I stretch my tired bones and open my eyes, hoping that this nightmare was exactly that. But, my hopes are let down when I realize that it’s still a reality. I’ve awaken to a cold lonely morning. Another cold morning without you.
I get up; not bothering to make the bed because I always left that up for you to do. I check the calendar hanging next to your picture on the wall; it’s November 17, 2009. My finger skims down the column to the bright red circle around the 25th.
Got a day and a week from Friday to see the preacher’s son*
Everybody says he’s crazy
I’ll have to see
I continue on to the bathroom to start my morning routine. I brush my teeth and wash my face, curiously checking my own reflection in the dirty mirror. It’s hard to believe how much my physical appearance has changed in the past few months.
The rough stubble along my jaw line is getting thick, growing wildly like an unattended garden. My skin is a lot more pale then it used to be, with its own imperfections here and there, even a few wrinkles on my face. I’ve lost the color in my eyes, the result of having such lack of emotion. The dark circles around them don’t help much either. My hands are like those of a worker who builds houses for a living, and I admit, I haven’t been eating properly.
I splash water on my face once more and shut the faucet off with a shaky hand. I grab the small wash cloth clumped up next to me and dry off. Not bothering to mess with my hair, I return to my room to get dressed, saving my shower for later.
I slide open my closet door, draw out a few clothes, and set them on the bed. On the far end of my closet is a few of your own clothing. I pull a yellow sundress off the hanger and bring the soft material to my nose. I close my eyes and the soft material against my body, wishing so desperately it was you instead.
I place the dress back, and discard my white cotton t-shirt and navy blue sweatpants, leaving them in a pile on the floor. I slip into a pair of dark faded jeans and a black, long-sleeved dress shirt, unusual from my recently typical attire.
From the corner of my eye, I can see my guitar standing alone in the corner, collecting dust. I haven’t touched that thing since I unpacked it, which is peculiar because I used to play it everyday. But for me, when there is no inspiration, there is no product.
I exit down the hallway, and descend down the long stairway to the kitchen, still not used to the placement of everything. I’m not greeted by Ozzie, Lou, or any of my other pets because I’ve decided to leave them back home with my mom. If I can’t take care of myself, how am I supposed to take care of them?
I look around at the still bare space, only a few items scattered around other than the boxes piled up in the far corner. I have no need for televisions or radios, or even furniture, seeing as how I don’t expect any guests. The icy temperature is starting to be unbearably numbing, so I get a pot of coffee going.
I finally moved to Jackson when the summer came
I won’t have to pay that boy to rake my leaves
I draw the curtains back just a little, and gaze out the window. It’s so different here and with all the adjusting I still have to do, feeling comfortable at home should be a main point in what they call “moving on”. But don’t they realize the only reason I’d ever live here is because this is where you are?
I take a look into my fridge, thinking that maybe this once I’ll have some breakfast. The light is blinding as I swing the heavy door open, crouching to search the shelves only to be met by a milk carton and a bottle of ketchup. Who am I kidding? I rarely ever go out anymore, even if it meant a quick trip to the grocery store.
I shut the door, and attend to the pot of coffee that is now ready. I open the cabinet over my head and reach for a mug. Empty thoughts run through my mind as I begin to pour the beverage into the little glass container. My hands jump as the doorbell rings suddenly, spilling the burning coffee all over them.
“Dammit!” I mutter, gripping at the hot skin. “Hold on!” I grab a napkin quickly and rush to the door, anxious to see the idiot who’s disturbing me.
I’m taken aback when I see a little girl, with long black hair and hazel eyes standing at my door.
“H-hello sir,” she stutters, “I-I was wondering if y-”
“No.” I try to shut the door but she begins again.
“I’m going door to door, s-selling girl scout cookies. Would you like to buy some?” She says, holding up a few boxes.
“I said no. I’m not interested,” I spit back. I’m not trying to be a grouch, but I am not in the mood.
“A-are you sure? All profits go to-”
“Look. I don’t care. Take your stuff and leave!” I shout, flicking my wrist at her.
I regret the words as soon as I say them. Her little eyes fill with tears as she begins to turn around.
Jesus, what am I doing? Taking my anger out on an innocent little girl?
“Wait,” I call, “Come back.”
She turns around curiously, staring at me with wet cheeks. I gestured for her to come back to the door.
“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” I tell her.
She hesitates for a moment before turning her wagon around and approaching my porch.
“How much are they, kid?” I ask.
“Four dollars a box.”
Four dollars for a small box of cookies? I… no, no, I owe this to her.
“I’ll take ‘em all,” I say, pulling my wallet out and hand her a hundred dollar bill.
“Th-thank you very much sir,” she says, taking the paper and securely placing it in her small carrier bag.
“No problem,” I sigh, “I’m sorry for being an ass… uh, I mean, I’m sorry for being rude like that.”
“It’s okay, sir,” she assures me.
“I’m Justin,” I say, reaching my hand out. “What’s your name?”
“Angela,” she half-smiles, taking my hand. “But you can say Angie, too.”
“Aren’t you cold?” I ask, noticing that the jacket she has is awfully thin.
“A little,” she tells me, but I know that’s not true.
“Wait right here,” I tell her, and leave for a brief moment to get one of my jackets from the closet. I wrap it around her and although it’s extremely baggy on her, she’s still cute.
“This is a nice jacket,” she says, observing it around her tiny body, “Where’d ya get it?”
“It’s Gucci,” I say, chuckling.
“Wow, I remember Mommy saying that word when we were at Goodwill. She said stuff from that place costs fortunes.”
“No kidding,” I say, leaning against my door.
“But then she said maybe if I get enough money from the Tooth Fairy, I can buy something really really nice.” She opens her mouth to show me a couple of missing teeth that I hadn’t noticed before. “Since daddy left, Mama has been working very hard to take care of me and my brothers.”
“Your parents are divorced?”
“No,” she frowns and looks at her feet, “my daddy died.”
I feel a huge drop somewhere in my gut, my heart stinging with sadness for the little girl. Tears spring to my eyes as I think about my own loss. “I’m sorry to hear that, Angie.”
“It’s okay. Mama says life is always a mystery, and that sometimes things are supposed to happen for whatever reasons.” She shrugs, “But I still wish my daddy were here.”
An idea comes to mind as I listen to her. “Would you like to come inside for some milk and cookies? If that’s okay with your mom?” I take a look outside, not seeing anyone out there. “Is she here with you?”
“No,” she tells me, “she’s at Mr.Berdin’s office, talking to him about the bills and stuff… I’m staying at my Grandma’s house down the street until my mom picks me up.”
“Would you like to come inside then? For some milk and cookies? It won’t be long, I promise.”
“Okay,” she smiles, getting a hold of the wagon’s handle.
I open the door as she follows me, her wondering eyes moving in all directions.
“Where’s all your furniture?” she asks, scrunching her face up at me.
Forgetting about that, I shake my head. “I just moved here a few months ago. I haven’t unpacked my stuff yet. Sorry about that. You don’t mind sitting on a cardboard box, do you?”
She says nothing, just shakes her head at me and follows me into the kitchen.
“Milk?” I ask returning to the fridge.
“Yes please,” she says, grabbing a few boxes of cookies.
I reach into the cabinet on the opposite side of the kitchen, and grab two glasses. I feel bad as I watch Angela from the corner of my eye; sit herself on top of a box.
“Here you go,” I say, handing her a glass.
“Thank you, Justin,” she says, and begins to sip the cold drink.
“How old are you by the way?” I ask, reaching into a box for an oatmeal raisin cookie, one of the first things I’ve eaten in weeks.
“Seven and a half. I’ll be eight next May,” she states proudly. “What about you?”
“Me? I’m twenty-eight. I’ll be twenty-nine next January,” I chuckle.
“That’s old.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say, “But I’m cool with it. What about your mom? She an old fart like me?”
Angela giggles at my comment. It feels good to finally have someone around me and not feel like their trying to console me or try to be sympathetic.
“No, she’s younger,” she says, “But she looks older now. Ever since she’s had to work three jobs, she’s been so busy.” I don’t know what to say back, so I stay quiet. “What about you, do you have a job?”
I hang my head a little lower before answering, “I used to.”
“What was it?”
“I made music.”
“Oh,” she sets her glass down on the floor, “Was it fun?”
“The best job in the world,” I say honestly.
“So why’d you stop?”
I know perfectly well why I dropped out of the music business. But Angela doesn’t need to know that. “I’m not sure actually,” I say, my voice cracking.
I’m probably going on and on it seems
I’m doing more of that these days
I run my fingers over the sides of a cookie and look at Angela, who is playing with her hair. “So, tell me about your father. What was he?”
“My daddy was a fire fighter,” she says, “He saved people, just like a superhero.”
I smile genuinely, “I bet.” We sit in silence for a couple of minutes, thinking about our own separate thoughts. “Angie, c-can I ask you something?”
She turns to me with a questioning look. “Okay.”
“How… how did your daddy die?”
She doesn’t say anything, just plays with a button on the jacket I’ve given her. I can tell how painful it is for her to continue, so I don’t urge her to go on. I sit quietly; feeling embarrassed I even asked her in the first place.
“Do you live here by yourself?” she asks, breaking the silence.
“Yup.”
“Where do your friends and family live then?”
“Some are in Los Angeles, some are back home in Tennessee.”
“So what are you doing here?”
I should have known that question would be coming. “Well you see someone that I love very much passed away also. So, I wanted to be as close to her as possible.”
“Oh, that’s a nice thing to do.”
“Really? You think so? Everyone think it’s a dumb idea.”
“I don’t know why they would say that.”
I smile warmly at her. This kid sure knows what she’s talking about.
“I think I should go now, before my Grandma gets worried.”
Something inside of me doesn’t want her to leave, but how can I keep here with me? She gets up, straightening herself out.
I lead her to the doorway as she turns around to face me. “Thank you very much, Justin.”
“My pleasure.”
“I guess I’ll be going now…”
“No, wait,” I stop her, “Do you think it would be alright if you drop by tomorrow? I know it’s really weird, me asking you this but… honestly, I feel like you’re the only true friend I’ve got right now.”
She shifts her weight onto her other leg as she tilts her head at me, “Well, mama says gaining a new friend, is like gaining a treasure. I’ll just tell my grandma I’ll be selling cookies again.”
“Great!” I smile, “I guess then I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yup. See you Justin!” She says, skipping down the pathway.
“Bye bye now, Angie,” I wave.
I close the door and once again, the loud silence is killing me. I face yet again what always haunts me every second of the day. I’m alone.
I gather up the dirty glasses and empty boxes, putting them in their proper place. As I hold a sponge underneath running water, Angela’s words replay over again in my mind.
I probably wouldn’t be this way
I probably wouldn’t hurt so bad
When I’m done putting every thing away, for some odd reason or another, I sit back down where Angela and I had our conversation. I look aimlessly around the room, until my eyes fix upon a box labeled “Memories”.
Without much thought, I take the box and actually begin to tear away at the tape wrapped strongly around each side. I fold back each cardboard flap, coughing as my lungs take in a cloud of dust. My hands reach inside and pull out the first item, a small jewelry box.
I never pictured every minute
Without you in it
Oh, you left so fast
I hold it up, remembering the significance of it. It was your most favorite item, with its small compartments and smooth ivory, the intricate flower detail on the sides. My fingers find the little knob and turn it, and the dream-like, almost eerie tune floats throughout the house.
Sometimes I see you standing there
Sometimes it’s like I’m losing touch
I look into the box, pulling out a few more items: seashells, postcards, teddy bears, jewelry, books and a few others. Even a few video tapes are in there, and it’s now that I wish I had a TV and VCR. But at the very bottom of the box is something covered in bubble wrap. I lift it out and place it in my lap, unraveling it from the thick barrier.
I turn it over in my hands and in an instant I know what it is. It’s one of our photo albums. My hands tremble as my mind contemplates whether I should look inside or not. Gathering up my courage, I flip back the black satin cover, and with watery eyes, I look at the first page.
Our younger years, from when we were just friends up to our first date, photos of those times are arranged right on the two large pages in front of me. I take deep breaths, reliving those moments again, cherishing them one by one.
Placed on the next few pages are photographs of us on dates, you with me on tour, us with friends, our many vacations, us… happy, together, and in love. Captures of our lives together, our relationship as it grew more and more each day, these pictures are the only way I can relive our times together, the only way I can see you smiling again. I close my eyes, letting the emotions pour out of me as my body shakes with sobs.
Sometimes I feel that I’m so lucky
To have had the chance to love this much
God, give me a moment’s grace
Cause if I’d never seen your face
I probably wouldn’t be this way
Once again, I’m cut short of my own seclusion when the telephone next to me is ringing. I wipe my tears and clear my throat before answering, “Hello.”
“Justin? Hi baby, it’s mom.”
“Hi mom, how are you?” I say, trying to sound as normal as possible.
“I’m holding up. I miss you though,” she says. It breaks my heart that I can’t be with my mom. Maybe I’m being selfish… God knows how many times I’ve tried to leave and go back home. But I can’t. I just can’t.
“I miss you too, mom.”
“Well, what are you up to?” She asks, and I try to give her the answer she wants to hear.
I close the photo album next to me, and stretch a little. “Nothing much, hanging back I guess. I’ve just finished eating.” Well I did, right?
“You’ve been taking care of yourself?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You sure? You don’t need me to come down there and visit you do you? Cause if you need me Justin, you know you can just call me and I will be there faster than you can say-”
“It’s fine mom,” I say, going up the stairs, “you don’t need to worry so much.”
“I’m sorry honey, it’s just… well, I wanna make sure you’re okay. Can you blame me?”
She’s right. If one of my friends had been going through what I am, I’d probably be worse than my mom.
“How is everything over there? Granny and Gramps doing fine? How about Jonathan and Stephen, are they okay too?”
“Oh yes, they’re doing wonderful. They just can’t wait to see you for the holidays,” she pauses for a few moments, “We will be seeing you, right?”
I sigh, not knowing how to answer. I want to be with my family more than anyone could imagine, but I feel that if I go, I’d just ruin it for everyone with my depression. But I’d do anything for my family; after all… they’ve helped me through this every step of the way. It’s the least I could do.
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Okay,” she says, and I know she’s appreciative of my decision. “How is Mississippi? Are you used to it all yet?”
“Sort of,” I say, entering my room, “It’s kind of different though. It’s hard to know where everything is especially when I don’t know anybody.” I look out my window, looking at the two little boys across the street ride their bikes.
“You haven’t made friends? I’ve told you to go out and meet people.”
“No, actually, I met someone very nice today.”
“Is that so?” I can hear the excitement in her voice.
“Yeah, her names Angela,” I say, taking a seat on my bed.
“You met a girl?”
“No, I mean, yes… but it’s not what you think,” I say, “I mean, not like that but… never mind.” How do I tell my mom that the only friend I’ve made in this stupid town is a seven year-old? Or as Angela would correct me, seven and a half year-old.
“Alright, as long as you’re trying,” she tells me, then says something to someone I can hear in the background. “Jonathan says he’s been trying to call you all week.”
“Oh really?” I say, knowing very well that he has. I’ve just been too ‘busy’ too answer. “Tell him that I’ll check up with him later. I gotta get going soon.”
“No problem,” she tells me, “Oh… you have plans today?”
“Yeah, I’m going to get ready to drop by and visit her later on.”
She doesn’t say anything for a while. “Are you sure honey? You know, maybe visiting her all the time isn’t the best thing for you. I mean, how are you supposed to clear your mind when you still dwell and mourn?”
A spark of anger ignites within me. Of all people, I thought my mom would understand. But it seems these days, she’s been brainwashed by the suggestions of my doctors, my friends, our other family members.
“I know that you don’t want to hear this Justin. But you have to understand I love you, and that’s why I want to see you happy. Baby, it breaks my heart that you have to go through this and I would do anything in my power to take it away if I could. But maybe you should just… cut back on the visits right now.”
I sigh heavily, both of us knowing her proposal is meaningless. “I can’t do that mom. I just… I can’t. And I won’t.”
“I know you won’t,” I can hear the defeat in her tone, “I’m sorry Jus, I don’t mean to pressure you like this.”
“Don’t worry about it mama,” I say, my eyes stinging with a whole new batch of tears. “I’m sorry for being so selfish lately. You guys don’t deserve it. Maybe I do need to go back home.”
“Whatever’s best for you baby. That’s all I want.”
“Thanks mom. I love you so much.” And I do.
“I love you too honey. I’ll be checking up on you later on okay? Send her our love.”
“I will mom, take care now,” I almost hang up the phone until I hear someone else speaking.
“Justin?” Another voice says. I recognize it when they repeat my name. It’s my cousin.
“Hey you.”
“How are you?” Susan says.
“Not too sure, but I’ll be okay,” I say.
“Justin… I miss her too you know.”
“That’s different Sue, you’re her best friend. I’m…I’m…”
“Her everything. I know Justin, but what your mom is saying is right. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
“Sue, can we not discuss this right now,” I rub my forehead, “please?”
“You have to move on, Justin. You know you have to. She would have wanted you to…”
Mama says that I just shouldn’t speak to you
Susan says that I should just move on
“Look Sue, thanks for trying to watch out for me. I know you’re doing it out of love-”
“I just want you to know I’m not trying to preach you, or smother you with pressure. I just want you to be happy, Justin. You’re my closest cousin and I’d hate to lose that.”
Her words are bittersweet to my soul. “You won’t, Sue. I promise.”
“I know you gotta get going, so I’ll let you.”
“Thanks,” I say, “Tell everyone I love them so much and I’ll be seeing them next week.”
She doesn’t say anything directly into the phone, and I hear an eruption of laughter. “Granny Sadie says we better cook up a storm, maybe it’ll make you stay home.”
I laugh sincerely, but feel so guilty at the same time.
“Alright, I’ll talk to you later, Sue.”
“Take care Justin. We need you.”
I say my goodbye, and hang up the phone.
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