thirty-six (approximately)

In the dark I'm chain smoking cigarettes with a head corrupted by whiskey. The screen of a computer monitor illuminates vowels, consonants, numbers, symbols and fingers. I'll attempt to summarize the last 36 hours (approximately).

Monday evening: I'm home after eight hours of work. My heart is racing. My head is a mess, drowning in thoughts of sadness, loss and self-termination. And this goddamn apartment is too quiet. I'm pacing. I need to reach out and speak ... share my thoughts ... release the pressure. Desperation blossoms tears. I pick up the phone and the flatlined dial tone fills my right ear. Unsteady fingers dial sister's telephone number. And I'm waiting. Waiting for an answer. A reception. Sister answers.

Fragments of the phone call:

"What's wrong?"

"... If anything were to happen to me, would you be OK?" (I never believed I would have the courage ... No, the audacity to ask such a question.)

She begins to cry.

I've been crying.

...

"I don't want to grow up without you ..."

I don't mention the gun.

"I want you to be part of [your nephew's] life. You're his only uncle."

"I know. I know."

More tears.

...

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid. Promise me."

I could lie. I could make such a promise to her, but I cannot lie ... not to sister ... no.

...

"Promise me this won't be the last time I talk to you."

"I promise."

"You swear?"

"I swear."

...

I love yous and goodbyes.

-------------------------------------------

Tuesday afternoon: I'm at work and my cell phone rings but I'm unable to answer. I check my phone moments later and find missed calls from mother and sister. Voicemails expressing grave concern. I call sister and explain my absent answers.

"I couldn't answer my phone because I'm teaching a class. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you.

"How are you feeling? Is everything OK?"

"Yes, I'm feeling better ... things are better. Everything is OK."

"I told mom about our conversation yesterday. I know I promised you I wouldn't tell her but ... I had to. You're not mad at me, are you?"

"No. I understand. I'm not upset at you, OK?"

...

-------------------------------------------

Tuesday evening: Mother calls me and asks if everything is all right. I assure her I'm in better spirits. She then proceeds to chastise me for not taking my medication (information I had shared with sister during Monday's conversation). I give her a litany of reasons why I've ceased taking the medication ... medication I haven't consumed for several months, a year perhaps. None of my explanations satisfy her.

"This isn't the type of conversation I wanted to have with you, mother."

...

Sobbing, she says, "I don't know what I would do without you, son. I love you so much."

"I know ... I know. Don't worry. Everything will be all right."

...

I love yous and goodbyes.

Don't worry don't worry don't worry don't worry don't worry don't worry don't worry don't worry don't worry don't worry don't worry don't worry don't worry don't worry don't worry don't worry don't worry ...

xx