creative writing: devastation. the life after (chapter 14)

Continued from chapter 13 of the Devastation Series.

I noticed a car following me as I got to the end of the road, right before I hit the highway. There were several consecutive turns on the way out of my Dad’s neighborhood. The odds of someone hitting the exact sequence of turns as me – at the same time as me – was highly unlikely. The person behind me had their sun visor down and hyper-tint was active, so I could not see them clearly from my seat. I turned around to get a better look at the vehicle as well as the shadowy figure in the driving seat. I still could not make out who it was. I was growing more concerned so I started watching closer. I continued with my music and headed to the cafe not losing focus on the tail-gaiter. I convinced myself that this was just a coincidence and if it was not, I would shake them at the parking lot.

I pulled into the cafe and up to the drive-thru. As I navigated the parking lot I did not see the car behind me. While I waited in line I thought that my hunch must have been true. I made it to the ordering screen and selected a sandwich that called to me. It was one of those heavenly sounds a choir made with a miracle that happened. I also ordered another dirty chai and added a couple of small desserts. I decided that I would take my dad a treat. When I was growing up, a dessert when you were sick, was par for the course, so I thought that I would carry on the tradition. Before dealing with my apparent stalker, I planned on visiting my father before going to wait for groceries. So I asked myself – why not? The order updated on the screen and the total QR code appeared. I scanned the code with my phone and paid for the food digitally. Once the order was processed, I pulled forward – sort of off to the side and waited in a numbered compact stall. I looked around one last time but did not see the car that I believed was following me. I stared out the front window through my hyper-tint and watched birds fly overhead.

The restaurant was slower than normal that day and came out about 15 mins. later. A tall young high school aged kid brought the meal out to me. She had a see-through mask on and smiled wide while delivering the food. I handed her some paper money and I took the order from the carhop’s hands. I opened the order to verify that the contents were correct. I never had issues at that establishment, but had grown accustomed to verifying orders due to experiences elsewhere. I closed the order up to keep it warm and started to place the bag into the passenger seat. Suddenly my passenger door quickly swung open and a figure lunged into the car and right beside of me. I freaked out and dropped the meal bag while I shouted a string of frantic obscenities. My muscles stiffened and went to an instinctive defense strategy. I felt my body repel away from the passenger side and my right arm stiff-armed the figure. My left hand fumbled with the eject button, which I finally hit, and the seatbelt reversed. The passenger was not fighting as I would have expected someone to do if they were planning a crime. Not able to think quickly enough, I started smacking at the door to open it. A female voice loudly overpowered my sporadic movements and sounds. It was from Valerie. “What the F#@K is wrong with you?” I bellowed in scared anger. 
“Gotcha…” She said with sarcasm like nothing was wrong with the situation. We both calmed down and while I was annoyed, my muscles started to relax. My heart raced…
“Seriously Valerie. What is wrong with you? Why in the hell did you stalk me and cause me to nearly s*@# my pants?” I barked back to her.
“Can we talk?” She questioned. I was so baffled at that moment. I struggled to form words. My anxiety was alerted and muscles ached from sudden tenseness. My heart was still thundering in my chest, though. I wanted to push her outside of the car door and at that particular moment, run over her. Twice even…
“Yeah – Valerie – I s’pose we can. Is this how you get people to talk to you? What is wrong with you?” I reiterated.
“Where are you going – may I follow you?” Her tone had changed. Her demeanor was much softer and she was less prickly than the last couple of days. His mannerisms were more welcoming and friendly also. While she did do a crazy thing, she appeared genuine.

The stare-off only lasted for a moment. Several things raced in my mind. I tried to be warming and more welcoming but it was obviously forced at that point. My triggers were dissipating, but not fast enough for the direction of the conversation. “Would you like something to eat?” I asked. After a moment she thought that she would like something. We ended up going back through the drive-thru and I ordered a second sandwich and a side salad. She also asked for a chai coffee, like she had that morning. After paying we drove around to the same parking spot. I was so confused about what was happening at that moment. What changed, I wondered? I started with basic questions – such as where she parked, how long was she following me, and did she plan to abruptly jump in the car like she was going to hijack me. Before I could ask anything else, the orders came out and I checked her order then handed it to her. “I was going to see my dad next – did you want to tag along? While I am f#$*#& pissed off at you – I know you care for him too – and I am going there.” She liked that idea, so we started driving to the hospital. Since she was eating, I took a long way. My appetite had diminished for the moment. I settled on eating at the hospital.

I turned on some modern rock and played it at a medium volume. It was quiet enough that we could talk without shouting – but loud enough that we could not whisper and listen. “Seriously, though, what the hell is wrong with you?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. My voice cracked a little with the question.
“Jake, I am different…” She began.
“You don’t say…” I interrupted with an exaggerated gasp and reaction.
“I have not been very kind to you over the past couple of days.” She confessed.
“Thank you – I thought it was just me…” I cockily replied.
“Sometime, I will share more about me and why I am the way that I am. I didn’t mean to snuff out all of your attempts…” she explained, “… well, I did actually… I… well, I am sorry.”
“Admitting you have a problem is the first step,” I exaggeratedly winked at her.
“Why didn’t you see your dad before now?” She asked.
“Well, that was one of the changes in my life…” I shared and began telling my story of change. I talked about Maggie and not knowing my dad was trying to make contact all along. I explained that he withdrew after mom died and we did grow distant. She seemed aware of some of the stories. I had assumed that the distance with Dad continued to grow and then I had gotten caught up in my life. I started telling her about work – and how I feel like my eyes are being opened. It felt childish. I was sure I lost her somewhere in the story. I started sharing and speaking to her as if it was a lecture. I lost focus on Valerie somewhere along the way and almost day-dreamed as I explored the passions I have been having. My hands danced in front of me as I orchestrated the story of changes in Jake’s existence. Time flew by and before I knew it, we had made it to the hospital. I snapped back to the present and looked over to Valerie. She was looking at me and she had not lost interest. She paid attention the entire time. I smiled and then we got out of the car.

She pulled her PPE back down over her face as we walked towards the main hospital entrance. Even if you didn’t believe in the mask situation, which I guessed that she did not, she was respectful of the belief systems. Plus, it was a requirement, and we were out in public in a place that would get a whole lot more attention. I remembered my ticket and made a note in my phone to handle that. I walked to her left but a few steps behind. “Have you been out to see him… or any time before?” I asked her as we walked under the patient’s entrance awning. 
“Not this time, but every other time.” She replied.
“Every…other time?” I repeated.
“This isn’t his first time, Jake.” She answered back. The way she said it – at that moment – there were so many things that I realized that I did not know. I wanted to know more – but now was not the time to ask. My father would not approve of anyone dwelling over all the things that had gone wrong in his life, or issues that he had faced. Even, with out history, our gap, I was confident that it would still ring true. It was one of those beliefs that would become etched in a person’s core, and there was no changing that.

I motioned at her to follow me as we rounded a corner. I stopped at the elevator and pressed the up button. As we waited for it, I grew impatient not hearing any movement or chimes. I pressed the button a couple more times. After waiting for a few more moments, I pressed up a few more times. Well, until she put her hand over it. “What?” I asked her, looking over in a kid’s curiosity.
“Just relax. It will come down – there is probably a good reason.” She assured me.
“Yeah – like its slow… or maybe the wires are shorted. Or…” I continued on a rant – some sarcasm, some self proclaimed truths. The signal lit and a digital chime occurred as the doors opened. I started to rush in but was abruptly stopped and had to back away. I looked over to Valerie and noted how she had raised an eyebrow at me, as she gazed over the people leaving the elevator, very pleased with herself. A tiny elderly woman and man, both with walkers, scooted and shuffled slowly out the doors. The woman first, then the man creeped out afterward. She called back to him and him up to her like geese flying in the sky confirming their location. I bit my lips and glanced back at Valerie. Nothing needed to be said. I had gotten the message.

After the couple moved out of the way, I inserted my arm inside the door to trip the timer so we could enter. The door jerked back open and I motioned for Valerie to enter first. I selected the floor as the doors closed and we were raised to one of the top floors. “I get it…” I finally said, breaking the silence. She smiled and that was just enough to abide by my guilt. The atmosphere was confusingly different than when I followed her around at the farm. There was warmth in the air and she seemed like a completely different person. I found myself timidly exploring conversation and small talk since the learned reactions from the morning. The door chimed, opened and I followed her out. I pointed and led the way down the hall to Dad’s room.

The lights were still dim in the room and with the sun passing overhead the heat from the windows had subsided. The blankets were messy and items were rearranged on his tray and beside him, compared to my last visit. Dad’s eyes were shut and he has inclined again like he was watching the ceiling. Valerie and I walked inside slowly as to not disturb him. “He looks so peaceful,” Valerie whispered, “…and he is sitting still…” 
“You never see him like this – do you?” I sat down in the chair and began to open up my food packaging. I did not want to wake him and was hungry by that point.
“When I see him…sick – he is usually like this…” She motioned to his position in the bed. 
“How long have you known him?” I muffled out in between bites.
“Since I ran away…” She looked at me and then to Dad, “maybe 10 years?” I knew there were so many more layers to that situation, and I wanted now, to not be that kind of heartfelt time. I nodded with an “ah” and casually moved on to asking about the last time he was ill. Apparently, he had been in and out of the hospital over the past couple of years. Then it hit me, Maggie had become different around my Dad about the same length of time, ago. I wondered if, in her way, she was trying to protect me? I wondered if she did it to spite me – or did she keep it quiet so it was not a hassle to her and our little lives. I could feel a day of reckoning being formed – but I was not ready yet, and certainly not that day. My dad yawned a lion’s yawn and squinted his eyes looking at Valerie. “Val is that you?” He rhetorically asked. He was wonderfully surprised to see both of us. He was also startled by the combination but rolled well with it. 
“I am just eat’n don’t mind me,” I mumbled with tiny chipmunk cheeks. Dad understood and redirected his attention to “Val.”

The sandwich was nourishing and hit all of the hunger spots. The weight tugged at my eyelids, I rubbed my eyes and held off the yawns as I watched and listened. It was as if we were sitting by a campfire and story-time was the activity. Their interactions were like a choreographed skit. He would tell some story and she would laugh, they would both chuckle along and then wait with anticipation while each finished a story. Most of the stories were unfamiliar to me. It was a different life that they talked about. I sat and quietly listened to the reminiscing of how things were done on his or her farm. Several tales started with “One time…” It was cute, and I fell a rush of warmth jolt through my body, it carried some other feeling… like frustration. I rubbed my eyes and dismissed them for the time being. I listened with my feet on the ottoman and slouched into the fluffy pillow-topped chair. I closed my eyes and listened to them for a while until I didn’t hear them anymore.

I startled awake when he slid his dinner tray to the side. “Welcome back – sleepyhead.” Dad said, “I didn’t save you any…” he motioned towards the food with his head.
“Thanks, dad.” I sat up straight in the chair and massaged my hands along my thighs. Valerie looked conversationally exhausted, and Dad had a weighed down look on his face. She was also carrying something she was not before, but I attributed it to my dad’s relentless story telling and debates. His monologues or soapboxes could be quite extensive and would slay even the noblest rhetoric knight. Dad and I also chatted about the farm for a moment. He asked me again, how work was. He also investigated below the surface to ensure that I was “alright.” I shared a small bit in passing, playing it off as nothing. I shared some details about Samuel, my fascination, and that he was in the Midwest somewhere. At least that was where his group headed, considering that he may not be alive any longer. I had not given the thought much light until that moment.

Geared up for the next round, my dad barraged me with questions about what I was reading. He was intrigued by the stories and for quite some time, I felt like I held my own in the self-sustaining worldly conversation. I got lost in rants, and they both just listened as I shared everything that I could think of. My fascinations, the life I was leading, my mess of a life at the moment, and how amazing it felt to be free-er. We continued to chat until the nurse came in for the nightly rounds. I looked down at my watch and it was early evening. I was beside myself with how long I had talked; how long we had conversed. Valerie and I stood and moved out of the way as the nurse ran the AI-Scans. The nurse mentioned the results as they appeared. Elevated this… and that… low oxygen saturation… She pulled the stethoscope from her pocket and placed the sensor over my dad’s chest and lungs. She reached her fingers up to her ear as a natural reaction to ensure there was a seal in her earpiece. I do not think that was needed any longer with the magnification but the instinct remained; just like turning the volume down when looking for an address – even though the AI has been driving us for a really long time.
“Well, it looks like some of your numbers have improved, Jake. How do you feel?”
“You can go ahead and release me – I am ready to get back in there!” He laughed a bit, then coughed.
“Riiiighttt.” She exaggerated with a wink. “But seriously, I do think you need to rest. Your visitors have been here a while – and you need to recover. You can be a talkative one…”
“That’s the thing doc,” I think Dad called everyone doc, in a hospital, “they did heal me.” He affirmed in a serious tone that was no longer the sarcastic glimmer but a deeper story hook. I forced an obvious stretch.
“Yeah dad, you wore me out. Valerie too…” She snapped her head sideways, confused by me. “Can’t you see her dragging self..” I motioned up and down Valerie to make light of the heavy subject matter.
“Oh right…” She hesitantly agreed.

We finished with common pleasantries such as “What are you guys going to do tonight?” Dad asked referencing Valerie and me, together. It was as if we were already best friends and had been spending significant amounts of time together “What do you mean Dad? Us?” I inquired.
“Well, the two of you are here…. together… And when you leave… I guess it will be… together… so I just thought maybe…” Dad trailed off.
“Fair enough. Fair enough.” I nodded with a shrug.
“Well – he isn’t really taking me anywhere…” Valerie said playing up to Dad.
“What is that supposed to me? Fine I will offer you the best value-meal in a two-block radius.” I exclaimed with a small room echo.

We finished up saying our goodbyes and we walked back towards the car. “You don’t have to get a snack with me… y’know.”
“I know.” She replied, “… but I am hungry and you’re offering… and driving.” Of course, she was right – it did make sense. I opened my phone and followed her lead while I scouted something to eat. I was not very hungry but would love the food later. Just then I remembered my delivery window this afternoon. I was going to reschedule… and was now going to miss it. I had to stop walking and dive into the logistics for a few moments. I read the app’s fine print and settings and features. It seemed like I clicked everything but the right thing. Luckily – I discovered that they alert or call before starting. I was relieved that I did not miss my chance. For once, something running behind, in life, benefitted me.

Valerie started to talk and I put my hand to her mask without thinking about it. “Did you just shush me?” She acted offended. I let out a sigh and signaled for one moment.
“I just need to take care of this… I am all over the place right now…” I was slightly frazzled and showing signs of scattering at that moment. I found the link that I was looking for and selected later delivery. Since it was still early in the context of a delivery day, I opted for the latest delivery possible, 10 PM. I apologized up and down to Valerie, then offered a dessert as a bribe. “My life… is just a mess right now…” I confessed, “its… complicated.”
“Well, I have a little time since my ride isn’t leaving for a bit…”

We ended up heading to a nearby cafe. We made it to the car and there in just a few moments. She pretended to be annoyed at me but it was obvious that she exaggerated. We sat at one of the booths off to the side in the restaurant. The room light was glowing and the sun was on the other side of the building. The cool breeze of the enviro-stable circulation sent chills over my arms and hit Valerie too. It was peaceful and a good spot. We were able to take off our masks, and our faces felt the cool air around us. The waiter arrived and stood outside of the controlled zone, an imaginary line that was a barrier. He was slightly difficult to hear in his mask, but we had grown accustomed to “mask-speak.” We both ordered waters, a side salad, and a sandwich off of the menu. I had mine packaged in a to-go container. “So are you going to tell me?” She pressed me for answers while we awaited the meals.
“For…” I motioned for more information, slightly anxious at the table.
“Why are you…so…what did you call it? Scattered?” She cocked her head to the side like a puppy hearing a toy for the first time. I tried to resist but the puppy look sold me. I thought I would have been saved by the meal, but she persuaded me for more, the moment that I would tire or dwindle off. So, I continued talking for the duration of her sandwich and salad. I explained just about everything to her that I had not shared in another rant. I rattled off the great things about Maggie and the things that didn’t work. I showed her the puzzle of me I was re-piecing together. I also went over Samuel and 116. I explained how that had shaped to be a passion project for me. I shared the shady decision at work that had me stressing over what to do – and the trapped feeling that has encapsulated my freedom. There was a small disappointment, like an “oh” but she never shamed me – or judged me. The truth was told, all of it… that I could think of at that moment. I am not sure if it was the confession or just being acknowledged but the relief physiologically shaped me in those moments. I shared how Maggie and I had grown distant but comfortable. My fears for my dad – and regrets of not knowing he tried to reach out. And all of it just kept coming. It was more than she had bargained for but I could not stop. She never missed a beat, to comment in a pause. She remained engaged throughout her meal until the check came.

I paid online and we masked up to leave. I took one last drink of my soda and slid my PPE into place. I carried my meal bag and led the way to where we parked. I opened her door and we both got inside of the car. “Alexa, list the destination’s today,” I called out, watching the navigation pane list stops from the day. “Go to option 3,” Alexa confirmed for me, and then ran the take-off diagnostics. Valerie asked which address was 116, and I shared it with her. She was curious about which part of town it was in. While it was not the best part of town, it had easy access to some of the main roads. It also had the essential outlets. With a pause, I heard music in the background. I turned on modern folk music and we sat quietly listening for the drive back to her car. The drive was both awkward and peaceful. I felt bad for unloading on Valerie, but the chains that were lifted made it all worth it. I knew that I did not upset her. I guessed that the silence was just processing the overshare. That, and we covered a lot of ground. I wondered if we burnt out any friendship, already.

We got back to her car and we agreed to meet up tomorrow late morning to go over the chores at Dad’s. She said the workload would be less than it has been since we did so much Saturday morning, but there were tasks that we should do daily such as a vermin and predator patrol. We did not stay silent through the goodbyes but we were sizing each other up. What was our relationship? I was not ready for a girlfriend and while I found Val attractive, my life felt like it was in shambles, to paraphrase a discussion that I had earlier. I watched her get into her car and waited for her to drive off, then I did the same. I continued the mellow folk playlist that we had started at a much louder volume – and enjoyed the trees passing by. A notification on my phone asked me if I still wished to have the grocery delivery in a couple of hours. I realized how much time passed by in our time together. I accepted the delivery as I was driving home since I would be at the apartment in just a moment. The clouds looked fluffy again and the gray ones in the distance looked like a storm was due in later. I felt like the weather and outside was a version of me at that moment. Storms brewing, but enjoyable for parts.

I got back to the apartment and kicked my shoes across the room. I reheated my to-go bag and grabbed another plate from the cabinet. I pulled the whiskey bottle out of the freezer and carried it like a football with hot food on the other hand. I was feeling carefree and sprawled out on the couch. Taking a load off felt very literal, to me, at that moment. The food tasted like the bag this time but I was hungry and didn’t care. I felt too tired to complain, despite my best efforts and imagination.

After I settled in I opened the journal on the floor beside me and started reading from Samuel’s words. He was discussing a trip and travel at that point in the story. I caught myself in a tangent – what if this was a story? I shook that thought away and refocused on the book. It was the first mention of travel. He had listed several states in a hand-drawn table: Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, and The Dakota’s. Samuel had started to look up the state regulations for living off of the land – what a person could do, could not do, and where would benefit him the most. The momentum was shifting in the journal. The vibe started to feel more action-oriented and less spectator. I continued reading suspecting that he would name an exact spot, but that particular journal only compared and contrasted the information.

My phone chirped when the deliveries were en route to the apartment. I had only done this once before, and I made the drivers wait unintentionally, so I rushed out to the front doors. I thought to myself, “Finally – food!” I walked down to the entrance and waited until a ping “arrived.” I heard a noise overhead and saw a small box being delivered by the largest drone that I had ever seen. I pulled the box from the harnesses and acknowledged delivery on my phone. The delivery driver showed up and parked in a fire lane right as I was done getting situated. He got out of the vehicle and came around the car to hand me two strapped bags to carry. After approving that delivery too, I bumbled my way to the front door of the complex door. With some finesse and a lot of luck, I got everything in without dropping an item. I trotted awkwardly down the hall to the room door and I leaned against it. My luck must have faded because I lost my grip as the door swung upon. The keys were dragged from my hands as the weight of my load forced the door wide open. I stood standing still for a moment and rubbed my face. After a sigh, I made it inside and put everything into a spot, attempting to be somewhat organized. Cold in the fridge, everything else on the counter for the time being with like items together. I felt put together for a moment and had some semblance of normality. I debated just going to bed for the day and enjoying the positive moments that I had for all those hours. Things were bound to change, though. I heard thunder outside and lighting announcing a storm.

My phone rang. I answered, not knowing the number. “Hello?” I asked.
“Hello, this is St. Christopher’s Memorial Hospital, are you Jake McClain, Jr?
“I am…” I acknowledged.
“I am a nurse for your father. Do you have a moment?” She asked. I reluctantly agreed, but it would not have changed the outcome. I listened as she explained that my father had slipped into a coma. The complications of pneumonia and cancer had worn on his body. He was not converting oxygen any longer. Nothing could be done at the moment, other than waiting. The prognosis was not good, but it was too early to tell for certain. No decisions should be made now, the nurse assured me. A doctor had not reviews the AI-Scan/Analysis yet. I thanked the nurse and blindly walked to the couch. How does a person thank someone…

I could not think, or feel anything. Should I go to the hospital? Lighting and a large thunder rolled over the windows. Should I wait at the apartment? I was in a daze and could not think, but I would be fine with a few moments, I assured myself. The whiskey shot was competing with adrenaline at the moment and I felt torn as to what the appropriate action or actions were. I sat on the couch and performed some quick research. Internet searches for medical-related items are never a positive experience. I never learned my lesson, though. All investigation led to the same answer, for now. There was nothing that I could do but wait. I felt that I needed more reassurance – or maybe I missed something that she had said to me in my initial fluster. I called the nurse back and confirmed as many details as I could think of. They recommended for me to try to rest and then come out in the morning. By then, the doctor would likely have reviewed the case info and AI-Analysis. I took another swig from the iced bottle and stared at the ceiling, as I slouched on the couch. I was numb.

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creative writing: devastation. the life after (chapter 13)

Continued from part 12 of the Devastation Series.

The drive back to the apartment was spent listening to music and gazing out of the side window. I was frozen in the driver’s seat with my left arm propped on the steering wheel. My face cocked sideways and chin planted into place. Random life scenes scrolled inside of my head only to be interrupted by sudden bumping from side road potholes. The egg crushing, jarring, and jolting brought me back to the present, but only for a moment. The dark of the night saturated the city streets. I looked to the navigation panel and realized I was only a few minutes away. I grabbed the compostable dinner bag from the passenger seat and rolled it tightly closed.

I slipped the PPE loosely over my face and exited the car. I was not trying to use it, I just wanted to pass any patrols that would circle by. The evening settled into the complex and the moist stale air found its way to my nose through the unsealed mask. I slid it up on my head as I walked down the hallway to the apartment. I had lost my swagger tonight but I did get into the apartment on the first try. Normally, I would flip through the keys, but I had marked them earlier in the day. I contemplated how I could upgrade the entryway to bio-scan locks, but I was stuck for now, considering that the desired update would have been included in the renovation that I skipped.

Skipped. I cheated, I told myself. Several variations played through my head as I settled inside of the entryway. I found a plate after searching a couple cabinets. I pulled the sandwich and fries from the sack and sat the small side salad on the counter. I grabbed a trash bag from the lower sink cabinet and started tossing waste inside. It reminded me that I needed to get some very basic household goods, such as a trash can. I laid the open trash bag down and slid the plate inside the microwave. I pressed the “Intelligent Meal” setting, which auto-detected the food types and tailored the cook to what was being prepped. After a couple of minutes of hearing it unit continuously adjust the microwave signaled complete. I pulled it out and it was perfect.

I popped my shoes off by the door on the way back to the couch. I pulled the coffee table closer and took a bite of the sandwich. Even reheated, the burger was blissful, just like the name indicated. I needed something to drink so I got up and poured a glass of water into a mason jar cup from the cabinet. There were several of those in there, so I wondered if Samuel did canning at some point. Not many people did that with all of the tech today, but it still existed in certain circles. My dad used to tell me of apple orchard visits to can apple sauce or sliced apples for another day. While I was there I opened the fridge and looked to see what was else was in there.

Disappointed in the fridge, I opened the freezer and saw a medium sized bottle of whiskey. I was pleased to find one thing that would be better after sitting for so long, at least that was my theory. It could not have appeared at a better time. The swigs tasted terrible regardless. I finished my meal and took a couple more shots from the bottle. My goal was not to get intoxicated but to take the edge off and fall asleep immediately. It worked, even though I become a little more under the influence than I would have wished. It was not enough to forget things or have a headache the next day and my sips did allow me to sleep deeper that night. I was able to stay asleep and quiet my mind, other than one or two bathroom visit.

I woke up around 4 AM not able to doze back off right away. My body was not used to uninterrupted sleep. So when I did get it, I would often wake up early. Damned if I did or did not, it would have seemed. I opened my phone and scrolled social media sites to avoid thinking about anything significant. I finally gave up and decided to text Valerie just like my dad requested. I opened a new message and selected the contact information that my dad had shared at the hospital. It was a long text for an intro but I didn’t have the luxury of back-and-forth at this time of day.  “Hey, Valerie, it’s Jake, little Jake… That sounds weird. Jake McClain, Jr. My dad, Sr. was admitted to the hospital last night. He told me to text you and I ask if you would be able to check on the place, whatever that means. Valerie – would you be willing and/or able? I know you’re busy. If I need to do something – I am a “city boy” (LOL) but will help. I am rambling now. Let me know please/tx. ” Send.

I dozed back off after watching the ceiling fan blades hypnotically circle around. The dreams did not register in my mind but I was restless during my short naps. I woke when Valerie texted back. It was around 5 AM, and it read: “See you at 5 PM, sharp.” I wondered what she was doing up at that moment. Did she normally wake at this hour? I contemplated getting up but was still worn out from all of the emotional work that I was sailing through. I was just glad that I was able to sleep, when I did, after all that had gone on in the prior day. My alarms started going off around 6 AM. I hit snooze a couple of times and then pulled my phone into focus. I opened Val’s text and sent an acknowledgment. I wondered what that visit was going to look like. I then hit snooze a couple more times until I gave up and in to the day.

I shook off the stiffness and pulled myself out of the couch. Big and obnoxiously fluffy cushions could hide a person if need be. After separating myself, I dressed and grabbed my stuff for the day. I swung by the Coffee Joe’s on the way in and got a coffee called a dirty chai. I added an extra shot of espresso and a couple of ice cubes so that I could enjoy it right away. The coffee was just the thing to perk me up, it turned out. A sweet and smokey bitterness swirled in my mouth with a creamy chai. I looked outside of the window and sipped as Alexa continued to chauffeur me to the office. I did not see the drones. The driverless cars were in the background. The robotics and AI just blended into the scenery. That day, the clouds popped in the sky. Fluffy white swirls of whipped cream in a dessert of blue. The sun stretched along the horizon with a tie-dye of the rainbow-like colors. The birds flew in v-formations and I could almost hear the geese honking. I focused on a tree coming to pass me and saw the lavender flower blooms painting life into the budding greens. I just observed… until I got to work.

I arrived at work around the same time that I always had. I parked in my normal spot and took my normal route to my desk. Yet, nothing felt normal. I felt like there was an elephant in the room – I was sure everyone knew of my wrong doings and only I did not know that they knew. Every look that I received felt like a judgment. Every smile felt condescending. I imagined sneers where there were none and heard whispers under breaths. As I passed my peers, I was sure that they knew something and treated me differently. Of course, no one knew at that time, but paranoia had a way of distorting things. I felt like a celebrity would in a public place, as I walked the halls I felt a need to hide my identity.

I was very focused on another property that I had walked through for renovation when Rob bounced in, and startled me. I was triggered but tried not to appear on edge. “You lucked out there Jakey boy,” He playfully shot out.
“I…I don’t uh – know…” I stammered.
“They must have gotten tired of waiting on you.” He replied.
“Still… lost bud…” I played dumb.
“Someone opted to leave 116 alone – and renovate it later for some strange reason. Must be turning it into an office or something.” He curiously rubbed his chin.
“I guess so…” I said dismissively. I tried to make eye contact.
“Curious…” He emphasized and be-bopped off. I tried to remember that he is generally quirky, but I still watched to make sure he went back to his desk. Several moments passed before I could look away. I anticipated him making some spy-like move, but he never actually did. My ego was telling me stories and I was playing along it would have seemed.

Most of my day went that way. I kept my head down and stuff to myself. I wasn’t eager to share project updates or pose thoughtful questions. I was afraid that any attention would shine a light on something. I realized that I had done something wrong, but it grew from breaking a rule, in my mind, to some larger caper, bank heist, or murder. It consumed me and my attention for the balance of the day. Food didn’t taste the same and some movements triggered a reaction in me. I convinced myself to just stay busy and finished several reports. By the end of the day, I completed a quarter of my entire workload. Sarcasm told me that I should have done wrong sooner. It was nearing 3 PM when I decided to head to the hospital.

Like a bell went off for the races, I slammed my computer into my bag. I placed my mask on my head and slung my backpack over my shoulder. In single stealth-like motion, I exited my office door. I bypassed the main hallway and snuck out of the front. I had started my car from the office so the stabilization would be effective, like an A/C it cooled down the car, but also worked on humidity and sunlight by using hyper-tint. That day was one of the first days that I had needed to use it that season. The air was cool as I stepped inside of the car and more than the temperature relieved me. A person could have felt the sigh I let out if they were next to me. I think it was my guilt – and the fact that there was no way I could repair it without being guilty. I started to moralize it, “It’s not that bad…”

I got to the hospital around 3:30 PM. The lights were low and my dad adrift in his inclined bed; his head sunk into a pillow and his were closed eyes, aimed towards the ceiling. Despite the rest he had been getting, he still wore a tired but enduring face. The television streamed episodes of a show that he had been watching and was continuing the next as I walked in. Since it would enter screensaver mode after an hour or two of inactivity, I thought that he had dozed off shortly before my arrival. I was reassured to when I determined that he had eaten something; I glanced over his bread crust and fruit plus yogurt container. My dad usually checked out and lost his hunger when stressed – so that was a positive sign for the situation.

I tiptoed around his room trying to not disturb him. I picked things up and organized the little piles in the chair and on the dresser next to him. The Gideon’s bible was out and opened to Matthew. I was not sure where he fell on belief anymore but I grew up in a faith-friendly home. Before mom died, we went to church every week and participated in small groups. I cannot remember if it was every week but we always had someone over from church, which is what I remember. My father was very familiar with the lingo, the stories, and the rituals. As I grew older, something changed in me and I drifted away. I was not sure where I stood now but continued being faith-friendly in my life. I just stood in awe of him and walked over beside the bed and stared.

Age cut deep into my father’s face. Wrinkles accented his face like the bold lines in artwork. His high cheekbones glowed in the dull room with the oils from his skin. His hair wavy and gray laying messily on the pillow from his head turns. I gently ran my fingers over his head, and he let out a groan and adjusting his position. His Last Will and Testament was printed on the table and scribbled on. He had written down thoughts that he stumbled upon and wanted to hold on to during his opioid fogs. He still preferred paper for writing most of the time. I pulled his blankets up slightly and tucked him in and talked to him under my breath. I pushed his tray slightly to the side and lowered his bed to a lesser angle.

I sat with him until it was time to meet up with Valerie. I simultaneously hoped he would wake and stay asleep. It was peaceful to see him and realize that the slow deep breaths were a healing journey. I turned the streaming shows to an audio music channel. I grabbed a scrap notepad that he had beside him and scribbled a quick note for when he awoke. “Dad – I stopped by and spent some time with you. You weren’t very talkative LOL. Meeting Valerie shortly. We’ve gotcha covered – just rest. I am going to come back to wear you out. I love you, dad. Jake. 430 PM.” The smell of the fine-tipped Sharpie tickled my nose. My father was broken down to his core… I needed him. Better.

Adjusting my mask after getting strapped into the car, I plugged in my dad’s home address. I selected a jazz station and let the horns, piano, and guitar soothe my anxieties. I took the country way to his home, even though I did not have the time to spare. The long way and wilderness scenery were very aesthetically pleasing and I felt it was needed after leaving the hospital before the meet up with Valerie. I replayed my day to that point and critiqued the details over an over. I beat myself up for the foolish scam that I did at work. I thought of a million things that I should do or should have done: from work to housing situations, to hospital visits and was confident I would add to the list in a short while.

I wondered what Valerie wanted to show me or what help she wanted. I was just some city boy and could not possibly understand their way of life. Like I didn’t go through some christening or right of passage that they went through. I rolled the windows down and stuck my head out of the window. The breeze thick with moisture pressed against my face. I closed my eyes and took it in. The warm air splashed against me with the occasional burst of coolness through different parts of the drive: warm, cool, warm, cool… After a few moments, I crawled back inside the cabin and rolled the windows up. I ran my fingers over my head and tapped on the steering wheel to the beat. I would have made a terrible drummer. I pulled into his driveway slightly late. Valerie’s vehicle was parked with her leaning against it. I parked next to her and I started to put on my PPE then realized that she was not wearing any, so I stopped. I just wanted to fit in at that moment and overcome the awkwardness.

“Hey, Val…” I started.
“What’s the matter with your dad?” She cut me off.
“Well, hello…” I trailed off, “we think he has pneumonia… complications…”
“Oh, the cancer… got it.” She finished for me. She was not being hateful or snarky yet, but it was obvious that she would not cherish the next however-so-long with me. She used her hips to push away from the vehicle as if sending herself down the lane in a swim meet. I walked to the house main door. I started to pull my hand out of my pocket to give my thumbprint to enter when she did it and entered.
“Your dad has asked me to do this a few times. We help each other out.” 
“I see, ok then…” I accepted her answer, she didn’t really need to convince me. 
“Let’s get the gear.” She motioned to a back closet. We walked to the back bedroom, which contained a lot of my dad’s tinkerings, equipment, and storage totes. I had not spent any time in this room aside from walking past it. I looked around, as she opened the closet door. One wall looked like a shrine to our family. It was a wall of older photographs. Several were paired and below those junctions were more photos. My dad had our family tree assembled and I became dazed by the photo of my mother beside my father. It had been years since I had seen images of them side by side. “Take these…” Valerie pulled me back to the present handing me a couple of pairs of working gloves and a very worn, stained dress shirt, which was apparently used to work around the farmette. She placed a work shirt on and slid on the smaller pair of gloves. Her tiny hands filled the finger with room to spare. I squeezed into the larger set then followed her out of the house to the barn.

We did not talk much. Most communication was explanatory and on a need to know basis. Her words seemed to just tell me what I should do to help and seemingly stay out of her way. I got the sense that I was tagging along in some obligatory understanding between her and my dad. I continued to attempt small talk but it was coldly welcomed and flatlined right after being born. I followed her around the farm and continued doing as she instructed. I had wished there was more instruction, like the whys of what we were doing, but accepted our symbiotic situation for now. I watched her and made my own mental notes for later. I realized the research I desired to complete was just compounding between dad and Samuel.

We strolled through the garden and checked the plants and looked for any signs of what she called “vermin.” We grabbed a bucket of grains from the barn and scattered small piles around the chicken’s dwellings. We looked for any predatory signs and pulled eggs from the hen nests and ended up with nearly a dozen. I wondered what my dad did with all of the eggs? Surely he didn’t eat all of them? I took another stab at conversation. “Guess my dad really likes omelets,” I called out snickering. Her eyebrow raised slightly and I swear to this day, a smirk started to form.
“You haven’t spent time here have you, Jake? So much more goes on…” She shot me down.
“You’re right… I see…” And with that gunfire, I tossed the white flag and continued weaving and bobbing for the rest of the chores. I did not know what I had done to her – but it was apparent that I pissed her off in some way, or someone had. We checked the rain barrels, wiped the solar panels, fed the milking cow, and milked her. The pigs were sloppily stinking with joy and grunted as we tossed some overripe apples in and a feed mixture. We walked the small fence-line and checked on the small pond. A few goldfish like fish were at the banks. She reached in a bucket near the dock and launched some pellets across the pond. Envisioning arrows overhead in an ambush, the pellets showered down on the water. As we walked away a couple of splashes followed by a larger gulp as a fish jumped to the surface. “That’s it for today.” She said in an abrupt finishing tone. I trailed behind her back to the house and we sat our gear on the counter inside the door. I assumed we would just use it again if we needed to come back.

We quickly toured the house and checked things like sinks, fridge being shut, and normal routine things. We finished then exited there too and locked the door behind us. Still following her lead, we headed to the cars. “Thanks for showing me around…” I forced perkiness into my voice.
“Meet me tomorrow,” she snapped back, “I’ll check in daily. Well, until he’s on his feet again.”
“Saturday afternoon? Morning? Same time?” I fumbled for words was and off any game that I would have pretended to have. 
“Around 7 AM. That too early for you?” asquint happened in a microsecond as she appeared to read me.
“Ok then…” I said to fill the air. I got into the car and resumed music. I did not even wave to her. While I knew why I was upset – I couldn’t help but go over our conversation. How did I step out on the wrong foot?

I don’t remember making it back to the apartment. It felt as if I was running from some hitman and made it to a safe place. With everything going on – my anxiety had secretly built inside of me. I shut the door and leaned my back into the inside of the door. I focused on my breathing and how I felt exhausted from the burdens that I endured within myself. I settled in for the night around 9 PM and was relieved when I remembered that it was Friday night. I didn’t have to face work tomorrow. I did have to get up earlier than I had hoped, but it was as if I was double dared to do something; I was going to be prompt in the morning. I walked over to the fridge and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. I grabbed a couple pieces of produce from the basket and sat while eating the fruit and vegetable whole. I took a swig and washed it down. “What a hot mess…” I mocked myself. I sat my alarms and finally opened the journal that I thought about so many times earlier in the day. I was swept off with the narration and seeing the parallels between dad and Samuel. I fell asleep shortly after.

I woke around 5 AM and made a small pot of coffee. While I nibbled on the leftover veggies from the prior night, I finished an InstaCo shopping cart. The evolved grocery shopping polled several stores in the proximity of the orderer. The algorithms search for the best combination of deals and prepare micro orders at each location. Mostly, AI, the orders are then staged in a central location and either a drone or delivery driver would bring the order to you. Maggie had introduced me to the service. Once I tried it – I never looked back. Since I was going to be out until much later I scheduled the delivery for late afternoon/ early evening, with the option to pause up until two hours before the time frames. It made shopping manageable for just about anybody.

Before I left the apartment, I placed a to-go order for 2 dirty chai coffees to be picked up en route to dad’s. I finished my cup of coffee and rubbed my eyes. A deep and gregarious yawn echoed off of the walls and I stretched my arms wide. I inhaled a deep breath and forced a sigh out. With my lips pursed my exhale sounded like a steam relief valve. I held the glass bottle of whiskey out in front of my in the room light. I took a small sip of the room temp whiskey and gagged a little. I shook off the disgust and placed it in the freezer. “Je’sus I need to pull it together.” I shook my head at myself.

I blared music in the car. The guitars angrily shred riffs and I pounded on the steering wheel to get motivated while heading Dad’s. I was ahead of schedule until I picked up the coffee which was delayed for some convenient reason and set me back about 10 minutes. I grew disappointed. I felt that my tardiness proved some point that Valerie had associated with me. When I pulled into the driveway it was obvious that the imaginary expectations I assumed were met by confirmations. I stepped out of the car and she shared her opinion right away. “Glad you could make it. I didn’t know if they made alarms in your world.” She fired. 
“No, I just waited for a rooster. He slept in.” It didn’t make as much sense out-loud as it did in my mind. I was about 15 whole minutes late and I had already started to disappoint. Trying to redeem myself, I pulled the medium coffee from the drink holder in the console. I sat mine on top of the car while handing off the other one which was reluctantly received. 
“I don’t do coffee.” She said shooting me down, again. At that moment, I knew it was going to be a long day.

We continued all morning, repeating most of the prior day’s chores but with even fewer interactions. I stopped to rest for a moment by the side of the house. While stretching I explored several thoughts about Valerie, about my dad, about my work, and home situation… I walked over to the table next to the porch and grabbed the coffee that I bought for her. I went into the house, warmed it up, and brought it back out to her, and placed it back on the table. “In case I wear you out…” I tried once again to add some positive humor vibes to the atmosphere but was met with a somber gaze. I was wearing down and opened my phone as a social distraction. “Let’s go,” she stated, starting to move again.

We did that routine for a couple of hours. As we finished each task a new one seemed to spawn; a terrible game of lights out or whack-a-mole. We completed more in-depth versions of yesterday’s tasks and added a few new ones to the mix but with more silence. I still only wanted to understand why we were doing what we were. We prepped the feed buckets and cleaned where we needed to. I swept out the barn which looked like had been neglected for some time. Old Bessie, what I had named the cow, was milked and the chickens produced a couple more eggs. “Smaller omelet today,” I chuckled to myself. I could not decipher if it was confusion or anguish that crossed her brow. The time flew by. We kept mostly busy as I shadowed her and picked up little side tasks. We worked for hours and wrapped up the unspoken list. Day two was soon in the books but it still felt like I was digging a deeper hole in quicksand; I just didn’t understand. That was what bothered me most.

We took off our gear and placed it in the same place as yesterday. I wanted to make it work. All of it. But, I also knew that it was going to be miserable, for me, as well as here I guessed. I picked up my cup and finished my chai, which was lukewarm from sitting by that point. I wiped my forehead with my forearm and took a long deep breath. While I swirled the drink in my mouth over my tongue I dwelled on the awkwardness. Like a brick wall, I could not see past it. It had started to eat away at me. I wondered “what did I do or not do?” I cupped my hands and wiped my face tugging at my lips with my fingers as they rolled off my chin. We shut the door and walked to our cars to each go our separate directions.

By that point, I was brooding maybe even bubbling over. I opened the door and placed my right leg into the floorboard. In a quick and passive-aggressive motion, I turned to her and looked through her. “Listen Val…” I started out. She started to say something and I cut her off… “I do not know what I am doing. I did not grow up on a farm. I wonder what the hell is going on with my dad. I am trying to figure out where I fit in. I have had several things in my life that have change in a very short time. Change isn’t fun. And I know that I am a nuisance – but I am trying to do this. As much as I can without you talking to me. I am watching your every action… And if this wall between us has to do with me, personally, you don’t know anything about me – my passions – my taste – my life… style… And I quite frankly don’t care if you care right now. We do, both however, care for him. If you don’t want to get to know me – fine… So be it – but we are going to work together for a little bit – and it sure as hell will be easier if you would just talk to me. We don’t have to chit-chat and drink coffee, despite the coffee I brought you… But for Christ sakes – be human…” I looked back to the car, got in, and firmly shut the car door. I entered the destination for a small brunch cafe, and Alexa started the trip. I paused the car, rolled down the window, and make one last comment. “It is more chai, a tea, than coffee…” I resumed backing out of the driveway and rolled the window up.

In the distance I could see her take a sip as I slowly exited the driveway. It looked like smile crested her face. A moment of confidence stood me up on the inside, I took some of Maggie out on Valerie. It did feel good to stand my ground and speak out. I headed to the cafe and returned to my shredding guitars.

Read more of the Devastation Series.

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creative writing: devastation. the life after (part 12)

Continued from part 11 of the Devastation Series.

I had terrible dreams that night many of them I could not remember. I awoke in cold sweats several times throughout the night. The kind of sweats when you have some sickness that has taken over your body. It startled me upright and forced me to catch my breath. I tried to take off my soaked shirt but ended up changing into another after the suede-like cushion fabric clung to my skin. I tossed and turned in the two feet available to me, without landing on the floor. I was sure that the changes in life were setting my sub-conscience into a frenzy. A Freudian dream-reader would have had a racket with the circus in my head, whoever that self was.

The dreams were mostly of me helpless. Full of confusion and evil figures with familiar faces blocking me from one thing or another. In one segment, I recalled, that my dad was needing help and was just out of reach. We could not clearly communicate with one another despite our efforts and would then just fade away. It is funny how pent up emotions brew and your ego orchestrates different perspectives like a conductor for a choir. The night was long – and despite being safe on the couch, I felt far from it. It felt like I was onto something bigger… I was setting up the pieces of the mosaic… I just needed to be able to step back and see the larger picture. I figured I would continue to examine myself for some time and hoped that it gave way to deeper learnings.

Morning finally came and it was time to get back to work. I found the coffee that I brought from the house and set up the pot to brew. “Hey Alexa, play Hard Rock,” I called out. After a few moments, the Echo started working through a popularized playlist. I walked from pile to pile picking an outfit for the day then got dressed. The coffee was brewing, music was playing and I was starting a new day today, in a new life. It felt dramatic but the truth was that the changes were impactful. I had also tucked away my fascinations with Samuel, with everything else going on. I had a moment of excitement when I thought about digging back in tonight. That ended when I realized – I was technically homeless. It didn’t matter right this second, though. I grabbed a coffee and donned my PPE.

Rob checked in a couple of times that day, checking on the progress of the report for 116. I was able to delay any action for a bit since I was out yesterday. No one asked if I did anything fun – or if I was OK. We did not have that type of relationship in the office. It wasn’t that people didn’t care, it was that there was no time for it. Emotion took up space and muddied waters that people didn’t want to be in, in the first place. His inquires reminded though, of my current situation. I was staying in the apartment. I needed a plan. My first thoughts considered a hotel and then getting another apartment. While the most logical, I was not done with 116. Something was happening to me. I could not help but think that things happened for a reason and that I was supposed to learn something. For someone… 116 felt as if it was a rehabilitation, but I was unsure from what.

I did not have time to doddle for long, so I had to come up with a plan. I continued with my work for the day and fielded off email after email. I answered calls and worked on projects. I went to meetings about meetings and planned meetings to plan for meetings. The redundancy was humorous to me and passed the hours by. I performed my own research and weighed my options for housing. While I could afford a few options, I could not shake the feeling that I was having. I was going to find a way to stay in the apartment. I convinced myself that I would use that time to figure things out and make a plan from there. I saved a link to the internal housing applications to my favorites and contemplated just applying for the apartment outright. I would have to make some move soon.

I finished the day at work and pre-ordered from a restaurant before I left. I was not hungry but also knew that I did not have much at the apartment yet outside of my coop box. I decided to do order groceries later that night. It was Thursday, and I wanted things for the weekend. So I started making a mental list. I rested my mask over my head like ballcap, not slid on yet, as I picked up my computer and a copy of the file from 116 that was sitting on the corner of my desk. The office was nearly empty by now since everyone cut out after the last meeting. With no one there, I didn’t feel obligated to wear my mask as I strolled through the office. I walked along the isles and looked in doors and windows of each space as I walked by.

Each space looked like the other spaces. Some form of photo frame seemed to be present at each station. Most were 3D, some were holographic, a few 2D, and a couple of antique photo frames. Each had the standard company digital calendar board but only a few had personalized them. Some had birthdays – some tracked their hours – some just tallied them off like some form of a prison sentence. Many had their favorite books in digital format, which sent my mind to thinking about my dad’s bookcase and the tangible paper copies. It must have satisfied a texture sensory response. The SDI’s, or single digital issues lined several desks. Each small tablet-like device contained a standalone book and OS to navigate it. It seemed ironic to take the equivalent of a progressive step backward. Avid readers had their Kindle or GLAD, Google’s Library Android Devices on their desks. Each desk had sanitizer, UV lights, an extra mask, filters, and varying brands but similar personal care items.

As I started to leave the lights went black as I passed each cube, shutting down for the evening. It was apparent that I was the last person in the office at that time. As I walked by Rob’s workstation, I noticed that the system had glitched and froze before logging him out. In an instant, I found myself sitting at his desk. An adrenaline rush pulsed through my body as I wondered what the hell I was doing. Of course, I knew – but where did it come from? I could make 116 seem like the report was done already. I could skip all of that and just rent the place, somehow… The pressure was on to complete the reporting, moving 116 along, but I was not threatened yet. Not that I liked to gauge my professionalism by that, I was just processing options at that point. My conscience was screaming as I pulled the chair out and sat down. Like a snowball down a mountain, I just hoped no avalanches were in the near future.

I opened the company’s cloud dashboard and saw Rob’s username and information. He was still signed into that as well. I clicked through the portal entry and landed at the property manager and administration app. The properties were listed in categories and sorted by vacancies. To the right of the screen was an “incomplete properties” section. I expanded the view and saw the apartment complex 116 was at. Each unit had status indications next to them. The incomplete files were at the top followed by the oldest renovation date. Each unit inside of the property was marked as Renovation Needed, No Renovation Needed, Waiting on Survey, and Processed. The rooms that I had looked at and completed a report for, were staged for Renovation Needed. 116, being stayed by me, had several red flags and incompletes next to them. By this point I had silenced the angel on my shoulder so only the little demon and the cowardly, but a more intelligent voice, was present.

Naive to the process, I weighed the options. I weighed the likelihood of getting caught and if I was assuming that I would – what would the outcome of that be.” What was the administration process anyway,” I wondered? It was then that I noticed a small gray table at the bottom of the dashboard “Standard Work/Processing Instructions” in bold italicized letters. I opened the document and perused the table of contents. I picked a couple of sections and started to read. The document was very well written and detailed specifications for training, so it covered all aspects and perspectives of navigating the dashboard and property management from acquiring to selling. I found the details related to what the processes were and how to complete a renovation project followed by what that triggered – did it notify anyone, etc.? I finished reading and needed to decide.

I spontaneously felt pressured and rebellious which painted me into a corner. I felt like I had to bypass the system although I knew there were other ways. I didn’t have to make the apartment skip all the proper steps to renovate and rent. Surely, I could find another way… The questions continued: “What would I do if I got caught? Would I lose my job? Would I be fined?” I do not know how – but lots of nonsense rammed the front of my brain at that moment. I began selecting complete and N/A and decided that there was no turning back. I “selected all” for 116 and completed the unit out in the system. It would have been too obvious to only skip the renovation. If I only completed some things – it would require attention again. I checked the “Other” reason box next to the reason for or against renovation. In the other text box, I typed “special circumstances applied, per mgmt.” 116 was the only thing stopping the progress of that complex. As soon as I hit submit, the teams would be notified for the next steps and the work would begin; I doubted anyone would look back. I froze hovering over the button as if it was a nuclear code launch… In a split second, I cheated, breaking rules that a person should just inherently know not to break. I did not realize how much paranoia would come over me.

I finished the logout process and put Rob’s desk back the way it was when I snuck into his space. I hurried down the halls with lights rapidly snapping off with my escape. I adjusted my mask holster resting on my head and pressed the engage button locking everything into place. I opened the car door, threw my bag in, and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands firmly. My arms were locked and I stared out of the window with a 1000 yard stare. If someone was in front of me, I would have been looking through them. I had significant amounts of nervous energy and needed to get out of that space as soon as possible. I would suffer from my guilty conscious the remainder of the day. “What next?” I asked out loud.

As I got into the car, I removed my mask. “Alexa – take me to the restaurant that I ordered from,” I looked at the navigation panel and selected from the last artists played. Heavy guitars and vocals surrounded me as I began heading for the takeout ordered earlier. Traffic had died down for the evening as I pulled into Bravo’s Burger Bliss. I pulled up to the takeout kiosk and rolled down the window to scan my phone screen. After scanning had completed, the kiosk started warming up. The orders were mostly made to order so it always took a couple of minutes extra. However, everything still had a fresh taste and appearance if you ate it right away. The screen switched from preparing meals to delivering. The conveyance system brought the food capsule from inside of the restaurant to the kiosk that I was at. I opened the sliding door, removed the capsule, took out the food, and checked the order accuracy. I selected accepted on the screening questionnaire and rolled up my window to head to what I was calling home. I continued the music and Alexa began route.

It was 6 PM and Alexa had taken the highway due to an automobile accident on our normal route. The phone rang over the navigation system and “DAD” appeared on the navigation pane. I did not want to answer right then, I just wanted to check out, eat my sandwich, and maybe read some if I had the energy to expend. I still had not walked through all of the thoughts and wanted to move on. “Hey dad,” I answered. He does not normally call so I assumed that he would want to talk or needed something. “Jake, I wanted (excessive coughing) to tell you that I had to go to (coughing) the hospital, I am in the hospital.” He faded out. Caught off guard, I had to register what was being said. “Alexa pull over.” The car continued and when clear from traffic crossed the line on the shoulder. My next replies, scattered, “Wha-hey Dad? You’re in the hospital?” I was not thinking clearly. My mind roaming between worry and the need to take action.
“Yes, Jake (cough), I am St. Christopher’s Memorial.” He acknowledged.
“What’s up dad – what’s going on?” I questioned.
“Don’t know yet Jake, struggled to breathe. Became delirious and couldn’t think.” He shared.
“I’ll be right there…Alexa St. Christopher’s Memorial…” I said all in one sentence. Dad tried to detour me but that was not going to happen. There was no reason that I should, would, or could not go. The car pulled off at the next overpass and turned around on the highway. We would be at the hospital in 20 mins. I turned the music up and mentally buckled for a bumpy ride.

I parked close to the building at the emergency room entrance. I struggled to get my mask connected quickly enough to get out of the car. I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my cheek as I entered the large revolving doors. I had not been in a hospital for many years, so I was slightly stunned by all of the changes. I should have expected it to coincide with the rate of change outside of the walls but had an older image hardwired into my mind. Small drones buzz overhead acting as surveillance and condiment robotics stroll occasionally down the halls with the basics – sort of an active vending machine. As with most things, the check-in process was automated. I walked to the kiosk and scanned my thumbprint. A standard inquiry appeared on the screen and I selected “visit a relative.” I entered his first name and date of birth then pressed enter. I selected my dad’s name and a room number appeared. I signed the standard PPE and visitation guidelines and followed the signs to the elevator.

I knocked before entering the room. He beckoned me to come in. The lights were low and the bed reclined. He lay staring up at the simple television. Many of the issued TV’s for places like this were 2D and only had 4K technology. He was watching a movie when I entered. “Did they beat you up yet?” I asked approaching the side of his bed. He was slightly distant and lethargic but conscious and aware of normal details. “I have had my meds and they gave me some muscle relaxers or something. My cough had become painful.” He looked in my direction. “I am glad to see you son…” He trailed off. His eyes were full of emotion and were comforted by my presence. I scanned the room and I deduced that the was brought by ambulance or someone else. 
“What have they got ‘chu in for?” I asked.
“The AIA said that it is likely pneumonia, acute pneumonia…” he replied. 
“Ambulance? What time?” I tried to confirm my assessment.
“Oh a few hours ago – I got to coughing and couldn’t breathe… yeah – ambulance.” He confirmed. The AIA, or artificial intelligent assessment, was a preliminary diagnosis based on measurable attributes. A more thorough analysis was likely run as well, but the blood and antibody markers took a little longer. The accuracy was in the 90th percentile, so without any glaring flags – treatment would begin with the AIA’s regimented care. The accuracy level only differs on subjective items. Millions of scenarios are processed at the time a patient arrives.

It was good to see my father and that he seemed fairly stable at the time. The immediate fear had subsided; he had a way of making a person feel comfortable. I sat around and chit-chatted for a little while keeping him company. We would not likely have results until tomorrow since it was late. About an hour into our visit, a nurse came in to do dosing. I asked several questions and it did sound like they were certain of the diagnosis. He had started to hurt from his coughing so they issued his pain meds again. I knew that our conversation would likely dwindle but was glad that they care was able to focus on the symptoms. He was fairly weak and let the nurse move his somewhat limp body around. He resembled a man that had given up. I pulled up the soft bed-chair, that was in the corner, beside his bed. With the volume low, the nurse did what she needed to and left. Dad turned slightly in my direction.

“Jake…” followed by a long pause, “what is on your beautiful mind? I can see you. You are somewhere else. You are going through some sort of fight.”
“Dad – I am fine…” I stammered slightly, caught off guard, “let’s focus on your current…” He cut me off.
“Before I get lost, here is Val’s info. Can you call here tomorrow and ask her to keep an eye on the place for a couple of days? We do that for each other when one person is out.
“Sure Dad. I would be glad to.” I replied.
“Now back to whats important now. Jake… it’s ok. This isn’t my first rodeo. This is what I want to talk about right now…” Dad pointed at me tapping his finger on my chest.
“Dad…” I started to say something deflecting, but the words started falling out of my mouth. I had been holding it in. Like a pressurized soda bottle, the fizz just spewed out. The lost feeling that I had been feeling, the hurt and regrets of Maggie, Samuel, and my adventure, and dad’s choices after mom. The tears that welled in my eyes burst and rushed down the contours of my face. I was lost somewhere between saddened, and vulnerable. There was also relief – the kind when you remove pressure from a wound. His voice was so comforting and soothing. He listened and slightly nodded as I continued. He pulled a tissue from the box beside him and touched it to my face. And when he spoke, it was like a key to a lock. It was a conversation that you could not have planned for. When you schedule a meeting, sometimes they turned out well, sometimes it was mostly a check-the-box activity. Sort of to say “you did it.” This was one of the rare, the few, that everything aligned – even at the unlikeliest of times.

I learned that he gave up on technology for more than just mom dying. That was the catalyst for a desire that he had for a long time. He had lost faith in things. People. People and technology and how we chose to use the advances given to us. Manipulation of things beyond the original intent so that no invention ended being solely a good thing. Sure mom’s death was tragic – and solidified his view on certain things, but it was never the reason for the lifestyle that he chose. He was exposed to countless people that forgot how to do things. The art or the skill of simple and complicated alike. People learned to satisfy the machine requirements to get the outcome they desired. Like coins in a vending machine, the thing would just drop out with the right sequence fed in.

I learned that he never did like Maggie, but supported whatever I wished to do. He went along, always hoping for the best, and trying to convince himself the worst was just a phase. He told me that he saw a caged lion in my eyes. One that knew the wild – and yearned for it, but when confined, the fire was gone. The spark disappeared and the ashes were all that remained. In typical dad form, he did not harbor any ill feelings towards her, only regrets that I had not drawn boundaries for myself. And he assured me that if I wanted to go back to her – she would never know what we had talked about. He has learned hope for people again, and change. I found out, during that conversation, he had stopped by on several occasions, and as luck would have it, I was never home. I never knew he stopped by, The message never made it to me. He assumed that I was busy and chose something more important with my allotted time.

And just like that, his eyes grew heavier. His words started having longer beats between them and his blinks appeared to be exaggeratedly slow. He faded off as the medicine took over and I tucked him in. A memory of my bedtime as a child flashed before my eyes – and I pulled the blankets up his chest. I tucked in his sides and moved the serving table out of the way. My eyes bloodshot and red streaks eroded any tough guy appeal that I pretended to have. In a couple hours timeframe I released several months of anguish. I got to finally talk a lot of it through. I also had someone in my corner which was encouraging and would allow me to continue on. I wrote a small note on a hospital paper pad and set it on the table so he would see it when he woke up. It read:

“Dad, I love you. The pressures that you just released… but just listening. I am so sorry that we have lost so much time. Now rest up – I need you. I will be by tomorrow to check on you. If you need me before then, call. Number for work and cell on the digital writing board. “

I went to the digital whiteboard and sketched all of my contact information. I put on my PPE and exited the room then the hospital. I drove home with soft guitars and nostalgic vibes. I took the long way back to the apartment. I looked over to my cold burger and sighed – at least I have a microwave, I thought.

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creative writing: devastation. the life after (part 11)

Continued from part 10 of the Devastation Series.

I remember stumbling around to the bathroom in the middle of the night. It was even more memorable since the room was foreign to me. I fumbled for the light switches and stubbed my toes numerous times. I didn’t feel it at the time but that caught up to me the next morning with bruises and sore spots all over. I had way too much to drink and didn’t care at that particular moment. I continued sleeping for several hours despite my biological nudges. My body, not used to the extra carefree sleep, stirred many times mostly for the restroom, but I also laid awake with heavy thoughts several times that night. Late morning, once I had sufficiently slept everything off, I dozed some more and had several nonsensical micro dreams. I finally become alert and looked at the clock realizing it was 1030 AM.

I remember feeling my phone vibrate throughout the morning tossing and turning, but my care-meter was depleted. When I finally unlocked the main screen, I saw what I thought was going to be hundreds of messages. In reality, there were several groups of texts, but only a couple with a lot information in them. I got the OK back from work – encouraging me to enjoy the day off. I must have also texted my dad at some point since he responded to something. Lastly, there were a few texts from Maggie. Already in a funk, I went ahead and read the messages. I felt like Murphy’s Law was driving my life at that moment. I did not respond to her wordy assassination attempts, but deep down it stung and I would have to work to overcome it.

I rolled around on the couch and pulled a journal out of the stack from one of the boxes that I had piled everything in. Glancing around the room I also noticed several stacks of stuff that I had packed in a hurry. The realities of the situation had started to settle in. From the financial side with new expenses that I would have to take on, to my daily routines that I was accustomed to. I also knew that a part of me would miss the smart home that Maggie and I had built together. I looked around Samuel’s for the basic automation setup, but as I expected, it did not exist. I rubbed my head and realized that I needed coffee. I hobbled my bruised feet to the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinets. For a moment, I felt like I was getting lucky. In his quick exit, he had left several items behind. There was a coffee maker as well as a bag of coffee that was not opened so I plugged it in. I was delighted when the smell of coffee saturated the air. The taste may have been slightly stale, like that of cheap fuel station coffee, but was like sweet nectar to my pallet.

I walked around the apartment and took everything in. I ran my fingers over the furniture, the appliances, and counters. I had desired to get to know Samuel in a sense but was not expecting to spend a couple of nights in his old apartment. I was glad the apartment contained the basics appliances, but all were very dated. Many of the items would be what my dad would have grown up using. However, everything that I tested, was functional: can opener, coffee maker, a range, a microwave, radio, fridge, and an original Alexa echo. I checked the internet connection and enabled the BlueTooth speakers and turned on Alexa. If nothing else she would be a talking companion, I thought. I did, after all, enjoy her terrible jokes, and she was also the nicest woman in my life.

The laptop was caked with dust and unplugged so I plugged it in, dusted it off and watched it come to life. The iconic Apple appeared on the black background and a progress bar moving from left to right below it. Unfortunately, the screen had a password requirement and I had not seen a password list yet. I hoped anyway… I made several basic guesses but the screen shook with each incorrect entry. I was confident that I would find a way in, but it wasn’t happening at that second. I left the unit plugged in to charge and went to the kitchen to get a dusting cloth. Inside one of the drawers were ragged washcloths, so I wet one and rang the excess water out. I walked back to the desk and cleaned the area up before sitting with the journal that I had carried around.

I looked at the cover and noticed that I had one that was out of order compared to the sequence that I had been reading. This book was much further along, date wise, than the sets that I had been reading. I remembered that the tape was day 600 something and this journal was labeled “Day 225.” I paused when I heard a noise coming from outside. I looked through the slits in the blinds to see the rain starting to pour down. A strobe of light followed by a rumbling echo roared through the glass and I hoped that it would stall for a moment in the afternoon since I planned to work with Maggie to get any remaining personal items that I had missed. I grabbed the majority of items when I left the house, but wanted to pull extra clothes from the dispenser as well as anything else that would make my situation easier. I shook it off and started to read the journal in front of me.

“I have been researching non-stop for hundreds of days now. I will keep going, but I am tired. Life continues to be a drag honestly. Businesses have mostly reopened from the last wave – but it seems to vary. The country is at different phases. Since Federal regulation has all but disappeared, the states are managing their cases differently. New York, where we are, has been the most diligent in establishing solid plans and regiments for citizen’s success. I also read today that POTUS is more like a mediator now for the Governors than any real position of power. I know that the Governors have grown in power, well at least from my perspective, sitting in my apartment. Every text that I read aligns with that.

Over the past several days, when I am not researching self-sustainment or locations I have been following several theories on viral spreading. The most popular theory comes from a creditable university and discusses the concepts of social distancing, extra precautions, and sanitizing. It then goes on to discuss that we may have solved one set of problems only to create another. The evolution of things, as they are, have changed the patterns present in the world. Bacteria and viruses have started to become more airborne and live on contact surfaces much longer. So fomites have become a real concern.

The startling information, though, was that we have weakened our immune systems in a sense. With all of the prevention, we are losing resistance to everyday organisms. The articles continued and noted that is why severity has increased as well as the frequency of symbiotic relationships, organisms that spread together, has also become a worry. We have witnessed this for a long time in the visible animal kingdom – a host animal carries a parasite creatures around… it is now thought to be happening at the microscopic level too. Flies, fleas, ticks, mosquitos were the first documented cases, but organisms have evolved to mimic that on a much smaller and wider level. Zoonoses and reverse zoonoses is happening. It is also like the micro organisms are leveraging each’s evolved traits…”

Another vibration on my phone pulled me from the article. My dad tried to see if I was okay again. I confirmed that I was fine and also that Maggie and I were through. I do not think he was saddened or caught off guard by that. We chatted for a moment and we agreed to catch up later in the day. He was busy doing something and I was busy letting my sobered mind catch up with the state of things. After we paused, I texted Maggie. “When you leave this afternoon, would you let me know? I will grab the rest of my things and leave you the key. Please and thank you.” She read the message right away but took some time to reply. “I will be out from 1 PM to 3 PM… I have a hot date, cannot miss it,” she proclaimed. While there was sarcasm in the text, it still hurt at that moment. I did not care that we were not a thing at that moment. I would grieve that in time, I thought. I was bothered that she was likely saying things to antagonize me. There were reasons we did not always get along.

I sat in the desk chair for a couple of hours. If my dad would have called, I would have been elated to answer, but instead, I stared outside. The rain that came down seemed symbolic that day. It was indeed, a gloomy day. The wind blew and skies crackled with fierce booms and bangs. At one point hail fell and sounded like marbles being dropped over the roof. About 30 mins until my appointed time, I put on the only jacket that I had with me, pulled the hood over my head, and walked to the car. Just days ago, I was an outsider looking in. Now, I felt more like an insider but was not sure what I was looking out for or at. The car secured me in the driver’s seat, and Alexa navigated to the house. The rain continued to spread its gloom and I waited outside of the in my old driveway while Maggie backed out. She did not acknowledge me or even look in my general direction.

I didn’t mess with my PPE to walk into the house. The drones were not in the area, and I had a slightly rebellious nature to me. I entered the house and took it all in. The familiarity was not welcoming and the house energy felt oppressive. I honed in on several small details and in an instant knew where I stood. The photo frames that once held our vacation pix were empty or replaced with other photos. Even one of her favorite photos, where she looked flawless, was taken down. I noticed a couple small piles of things that she did not care for and several home-goods that I had liked in garbage bags. She had erased me. Quickly and did so with apparent anger. It did not matter by that point, I was mentally checked out and had no desire for any rekindling. The hurt that I had tolerated or had received recently gave me emotional causes to quit. There was never really an us.

I strolled through the house and took note of the items set aside. I do not know if I was becoming a minimalist or despised items from spite, but I had no interest in most of the piles she sat out. I grabbed one of the bags and emptied the contents into a pile on the floor. I took the bag and cherry-picked from the pile: a photo frame, a set of coasts, a coffee mug. I left the small balance of the pile outside of the kitchen and continued to look around. “Alexa, how are you today?” I asked cueing up an AI response. “Fine, Jake, thank you for asking. How may I help you?” She asked back. Maggie was a consumer of the technology but not an advanced user. I happened to appreciate the aid of AI and spent time understanding how it worked, what machine learning was capable of, and often tested the limits of tech. I was surprised that she had not deleted my profile yet, but assumed that she had not gotten around to it. It was on her list somewhere, I figured, considering the environment she had started constructing. Or deconstructing, I thought.

“Alexa set a password for anything related to me, Jake,” I commanded asserting control over the intelligent devices. There was a moment of silence followed by password setting prompts. I set the number to a memorable sequence and confirmed it. The password would block any information that pertained to me or profile preferences for me. I was tempted to block several more things but talked myself out of it, I decided that I was not like that. “Alexa, log out of Jake’s profile and set the lock for Jake. It was nice knowing you, Alexa.” I trailed off. “I appreciated serving you, Jake…. preparing to reset…” followed by a long pause, “I am logged out, user, log in for personalized features.” I looked around the kitchen. I felt large amounts of distaste for the materials around me. I ended up grabbing a couple more mugs, my favorite coffee beans, and recipe cards passed from generation to generation.

I grew less and less interested in materials as I walked through the house. There were so many acquired things in the rooms. While I enjoyed them all at the time – at that moment I was second-guessing everything. In the bedroom, I picked up a bag in front of the dispenser. She had already emptied the contents and tossed in my toiletry items. I continued to slowly accumulate in the bag I was carrying as I walked from section to section. I caught myself remembering the memories for many of the material things. I remembered why we purchased items as I ran my fingers over them. There was a part of me that would miss that life – but I had started to reject those feelings of contentment. I had grown accustomed to a cutting edge life and convinced myself that we were doing it the right way. I became sure as I walked around though, we drifted apart some time ago.

I ended up with a loosely full garbage bag, which I put inside of a large rolling tote that we had purchased for our trips. “I am taking a trip Maggie,” I confidently said as I prepared to embark on a solo journey. I felt a lot of uncertainty but also started to slightly relax. Many emotions were present but sadness was not one of them at that moment. Strangely, I started to feel relief as I passed up item after item. I remembered the times that I tip-toed to avoid an argument. Her way or no way and the proper this and proper that… I recalled the good causes that were not worth our time. Or the new purchase because friends had it… whatever it was in that period. I continued my stroll through the house, finding less and less that I desired. I ended with the tote full of a few things. I stopped in the main entrance doorway. I took one more glance at the closing chapter in life and sent a text. “Donate everything else.” And I walked out.

Alexa, being a cloud-based machine, would remember all of my preferences from the house. So most of me would remain intact. Maggie, with any real effort, could have figured out how to access portions of my files. Back in the car, I watched the driveway change to the rear view mirror. I turned on an appropriate song mix and just let go. The distance felt nice – like I was escaped. I could not explain it just yet, but I was certain that things would eventually be on the up and up. I silenced the texts from Maggie since I did not want to hear any more rants. She would find complaint with what I didn’t take, what I did take, and what I should have taken. I would be wrong regardless of my selections. A classic old metal song came on from my playlist: Battle Borne by 5FDP. It was appropriate for the time and place. I nodded along with the chorus until it faded with an incoming call. It was my father.

“Dad?” I asked, knowing it was him. After the greeting we proceeded to discuss what was going on with my life. It was prompted by his inquisitive nature. Before I knew it, I was heading into a monologue which he stopped abruptly, “Jake, what are you doing right now?” I explained that I had left the apartment to pick up items from the house that I used to call home. In typical dad fashion he assured me that I always had a home with him. I acknowledged his warm gestures and thanked him – but I desperately wanted to maintain my own space. I just started that new feeling and wanted to explore it more fully. In a few story turns, he enticed me to come to see him sooner rather than later. When we hung up, I instructed Alexa, “…go to dad’s… country route.” The music resumed where it had faded out, but I started it over anyway. Angry music soothed my soul. I changed the course and headed to dad’s.

In between sorting fragments of the discussion that I just had, I remembered my dad’s counter packed with prescriptions. I suddenly felt terrible that I did not pause and ask how he was. A slight chill raced through my body – cancer. He seemed to be in good spirits during our talk, I supposed. Surely, he would have shared results if they were major… I trailed off for a moment but reigned myself back in. I would see him in a short time. I looked up from the dashboard and gazed at the trees jogging by. The rain had stopped for a moment to rebuild strength, I imagined. The lighting and thunder were quick to emphasize that they had not left and had more work to do. The trickles turned to downpour as I neared dad’s. I could almost hear the wind howl as it picked up with the storm rolling in. I was going to get wet going into his house. I pulled my jacket over my head and took long strides running inside. I envisioned a slow-motion image of a child stomping in every puddle possible on the way in. I was inevitably saturated as I entered his home.

I greeted him with a warm hug. I was not thinking about my PPE and left it in the car. My dad did not care, he was much more in favor of natural processes. “It is what it is…” was a favorite saying as long as I could remember. I got inside, dried off and warmed up. I watched him grind beans and boil water. He carefully put the cone filter in his pour-over and put a pre-measured amount of beans in. With his thumb, he gently packed the grinds and poured just enough water to moisten its contents. Little bubbles climbed to the surface of the mound and he swore this was the proper way to do a drip. He lost me through most of the explanation but it had to do with acidity and unlocking the flavor without bitterness. He was meticulous and valued his ability to make…

We moved to the couch in his living room. The laptop was still most of his tech, aside from a phone. That did not matter to him. Despite the jokes, he was not less intelligent. He was not less capable. On the contrary… His bookshelves proudly displayed a series of notable books from historical staples to current noteworthy authors. A couple of digital photo frames, only 2D, were on the wall beside several printed pictures in frames. He only had the digital frames because I got them for him several years ago. Regardless, the room was peaceful and elegant. It felt like prim and proper, like what I imagined from stories long ago. It was classic even for my dad’s origins. To the eyes only, he never had much. My dad was an uncommon sort of wealthy. Wealth was determined by your value system.

The afternoon slipped away from us and the only reason that I realized it was the darkness crept in. We had not caught up like that in years. I had no idea what sort of isolation that I had created. The associations that I had made, materials I sought, and activities I immersed into created a life only like minded people knew to follow. I had created selective blinders for the world around me. Realizing all of this made the conversation hard.

It was through the conversation that evening I shared everything with my dad. He never judged me and only asked probing questions to understand my thoughts. He was very empathic, and somehow I had forgotten that. He asked me if I was hungry and then made us each a cold sandwich. I had not seen a handmade sandwich outside of an artisan restaurant in ages. He needed to eat something to take his pain medication. I noticed that he changed slightly as time progressed. I could see the aching in his occasional squinting eyes. It was after the sandwich, and prescription that he, in turn, confided in me. I was not prepared for the truth.

My father had been battling cancer for a long time. Like normal his care for others came first. He did not call me, or anyone else really, to share the news. Some of it was stubbornness and some of it was pride, but the vast majority was simply not that important in his eyes. His troubles should not impede on another person, so he thought. The irony was always that handling things that way, does, in fact, cause more problems from shock and last-minute circumstances.

The prognosis was only a couple of years and he was well on his way in that timetable. He had already gone through chemo once. He also tried experimental medicines and alternative healing methods. His remission only lasted a short amount of time and he made a different choice when it attacked again. This time he chose to live out his days as he saw fit. Other than some minor inconveniences, the implications of his illness were not barriers to him for a while. However, that was changing and recently he had to alter some of his lifestyle. Hence the tech he told me about in our first conversation. More stunned than scared, I listened, asked, and waited…

He was weak by the end of the evening. The medicine kicked in and the passion faded from his face. The pain had overtaken him and the reactions of the prescriptions made him numb. All of him. His cough worsened by the end of our talk, and I was certain he would sleep well that night, though I wished it was for other reasons. I made an excuse to leave and we wrapped up with an extended hug. Not an I love you hug, more of a goodbye embrace.

The rain had died off through the evening only to come back with a vengeance. Like the perfect movie scene – the lighting struck as I approached the car door. I made it inside the car and out of the driveway before I let the tears jump from my eyes. Snotty, whiney and tired, I called to Alexa, “Play my emotional playlist.” The guitars started strumming softly. The night sky strobed and the windshield wipers swooshed and swished. The unfamiliar route home seemed to take an obscene amount of time.

Seeing the drones I put on my PPE to go into the apartment. After making several trips I brought everything inside from my car. The emotion had been washed from my face by the time I finished. Both from rain, and exhaustion. I piled my wet clothes next to the door and rummaged in my toiletries to take a shower. The shower felt cleansing. It was quiet, without news headlines to read. I realized that I did not need to wait through the cycles like a car wash to clean my body. I was a functional human and was able to do it for myself. I felt in control for those few moments. The water streamed over my head and a lifetime passed in my mind. There was peace in the quiet.

I finished the shower, dressed in comfortable clothes, and wiped a circle of condensation off of the antique mirror. The aged lines and the dark circles were still unrecognizable. I wondered, “Who had I become?”I walked through the apartment turning off the lights. I made it to the couch, laid down, and closed my eyes. Heavy thoughts and feelings circled and I waded through them as best I could until I drifted to sleep. I was going to need a distraction. I had to work in the morning.

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