Act 8

I have an ironic theory from my observations of people, when things don’t go there; most people tend to go back to what they know, or what they feel most comfortable with. I never thought I’d be doing it myself though. As she rounded the corner to head out of the complex, she gave a glance over and smiled from what I could tell and told me to call her later. For those that know me, they know I’m a natural smart ass, and can find a loop hole in any statement or situation, and for this particular one meant “later” could be an hour from now, or a month from now, and as I saw her reach down for her phone, the time frame for later, became much longer. I couldn’t stand to sit still for more than 5 minutes, I was still charged with energy even though I was mentally exhausted, I need something to even myself out with, unfortunately Tom was not home to get in a few games of racquetball. Frustrated I paced the apartment, stumbling occasionally on the boxes of still unpacked items from the house, granted I could have used the time to put some of the tings away, but that would take way too much thinking, and that’s when I stubbed my toe. When they had recovered my car, I had grabbed my blades from the trunk. 10 minutes later I was already a half mile away.

Tom and I used to blade in the neighborhood a few blocks away, I knew all the streets and back roads, not much thinking involved, perfect, except for one thing, it was Saturday and crazy amounts of garage sales and slow walking peddlers on the sidewalks. The streets were no better with cars breaking for no apparent reason, plan B took affect, or more or less was thought up of at that very moment. I stopped at the big B of A fountains, I contemplated whether I actually wanted to go as far as I knew I was going, it was a short thought. Tom and I used to blade from my old apartment complex to our work location, or as close as possible, which as about 8 miles away. I don’t recall if Tom ever did make it. The following spring, a few friends and I used to blade the route all the time, and eventually we started bladding to work from my old house, needless to say this was years ago, and I haven’t bladed this length of distance in quite some time, but it wasn’t going to stop me from trying.

“Just don’t think about coming back”, something I should have thought about a long time ago. It wasn’t long till I realize how far I’d come, and barley realized it. The majority of the way was spent replaying the previous night’s conversation, and with every replay, a pain shot through me. I still had to sleep and I hadn’t even made it to the Chandler center yet, I was thinking too much and had lost motivation, at time I found myself wandering into the road, and being grazed my passing cars from behind. Thirsty, I decide to stop at a store and pick up a drink and some fresh batteries form the CD player I had been tugging along with me but had yet to use, included with it was Sade, Jill Scott and 2 mixed CD’s “Bladdin” and “Da Drive”. Since I was already down as it was there was no use in trying to pick myself back up immediately, I’m stubborn in that kind of way, I’ve got to fall to the lowest of low before coming back up. I put Jill Scott in 1st and picked out a fairly decent cruising pace, with knocked off about 30 min of the trip. By the time I reached the Chandler center, the mid day shift was over and the night crew was just arriving, I switched CD’s and played around for a minute or to, until I decided to head back. Amazingly enough, I didn’t think about her the entire way down to the center, I more or less just dazed out it, for the entire trip there.

On the way back I started to drift even further thinking back, on the last several months. There was no real order to the thoughts, I think mainly they were based on whatever was happening around, audibly, visually, and sensory. A smell would catch my attention and make me think of her. Two imports cars passed me and I thought back to the underground race I took her to, and even though the night ended with thorns in our jeans, I remember the fun we had. This led to the seeing the Saleen Mustang outside the movie theater, when we went and saw “Sweet November”, which was an ironic evening, as the movie reminded me of my own past, yet I was seeing it with someone I wanted to have a future with. I wish I could say the thought were fleeting but, they weren’t, until the car I saw came out of nowhere, brushed up against me, or maybe it was I who brushed up against it. Either way, it was a sure sign that maybe now was not the best time to be skating, for me at least. I tried to focus, on what I was doing, but it just didn’t seem to be working out. Every stride I took, a memory would flash before me, and every breath I took reminded me of something we had once done. After an hour or so, I finally could see the apartment complex, as the sun started to descend.

It was a little after 6 when I finally got home, I had missed several calls on my cell, but I really didn’t care about it at the time. My head was throbbing from the migraine I had allowed to creep into my head earlier the day before. I had been in the sun now for almost 12 hrs, or at and as I walked into my room is when I noticed just how dark everything was to me. It was the only bit of comfort from the entire ordeal. I showered almost immediately, and as I laid down, I thought about eating, but there was still a knot in my stomach, as if it had collapsed in on itself. If only I could make the rest of me do the same. I could still here Alexis playing with her friends as the last bit of sunlight crept out of the corner of my room, and wished I was her age, without a care in the world, where the only heart break experienced was if you couldn’t go to McDonalds for dinner, which was usually forgotten within a matter of hours if not minutes.

I didn’t try to fight the sleep off, or at least I don’t think I tried to but, it seemed to come in small spurts at 1st, none of which provided in comfort. It was as if I was subconsciously playing a preview of what was to come once I did fall asleep, if sleep is what one would call it. Finally what seemed like forever, the curtains were drawn, the noise was silenced away, and the images slowly began to fade in.

I have a theory on myself that seems to hold true, that once a part of me is hurt is closes off like that of an armadillos shell, the only difference is once an armadillo, feels safe they will retract to the normal shape, whereas, I on the other have no control over it, not consciously at least. With each image, another layer slowly applied itself in the form a cold wave covering my body; it was almost as if an ice cold liquid metal was being poured over me from the inside out. It was pleasing feeling almost, but at the same time, I had to endure each and every experience over again. As if it were happening for the 1st time, but with an almost 2nd sight perspective, I relived every moment I had cherished; starting with the 1st time I allowed myself to open to her, and welcomed her in. It was going to be a long night and it was only 7:30 in the evening.

Act 9