Barrett
Dark, silent, pain. These three words describe my entire existence lately. I don’t know what time or day it is, and I don’t even pretend to care. My life ended two weeks ago, and I refuse to go on pretending that it didn’t. I lost my family, my identity, and my purpose all in one horrible night. I’ve never been anything but Codi’s older brother. Everything I did, everything I am was for him. Without him, I am nothing. Have nothing. So, I lay here in the dark and I exist. I sleep and I exist.
I continue to fade in and out of sleep without caring about the passing time. I wake up on and off, and then fade back into the black. However, this time when I wake I can instantly tell I’m not alone. Sometimes Randy will be sitting at the desk watching me with his pain-filled, guilt-ridden eyes, and I can’t stand to look, so I force myself back to sleep. Randy isn’t in the chair however, and I highly doubt it’s him who is spooned beside me. I’m being held from behind, cradled, and it’s the first time in weeks I don’t want to be alone. I take comfort in the strange warmth, even though I don’t deserve it. I allow myself this weak moment. A selfish moment of not even caring who is giving the comfort. I need it, so I take it without question. I don’t even bother looking who it is when I snuggle in deeper and let myself drift off to the subtle smell of lemon.
I awake again. I have no clue how long it’s been, but the person is still there. By the scent and light gentle touch, I know it’s a female. She smells sweet, feels warm, and is rubbing my hair like my mom used to do. Just the thought brings hot tears to my eyes, and I let anger take over so I don’t feel so vulnerable. I throw the hand off my head and I sit up, glaring over at Presley. I’m not even shocked when I see it’s her. I don’t bother asking why she is there. I just give her a look that clearly says she isn’t wanted. She has the nerve to smile shyly back. She leans over and kisses my forehead, then stands up and exists the room, leaving me in pure shock.
She comes back only minutes later carrying a tray with soup, water, and crackers. She sets it down on the desk, then looks at my hands and frowns. I refuse to follow her sight. I hate the look of my casts. They are an ugly reminder of how frail the body is. Of my limitations and of my silent prison. With them I am trapped inside my mind. Unable to express myself, even if I could. Luckily, I have no desire to, so I sit and stare back at her in defiance.
“Eat. Know you not hungry. Need eat anyway.” Her signing has gotten better. And she’s still here. She doesn’t run off scared by my hostility like everyone else. I look down at my casted hands. Useless. This body is utterly useless. In one sweeping motion I use my cast to shatter the bowl and send the soup flying across the room and cover the wall. She says nothing, but leaves the room. I feel both relief and utter despair upon her exit.
Less than five minutes later, my light is turned back on and I glare up at the intrusion again. What is wrong with this chick? Can’t she tell she isn’t wanted? My mouth falls open at the sight of her carrying yet another plate of food. She is the most stubborn, forceful person I’ve ever met. Why won’t she just leave? Instead of leaving, she takes advantage of my open mouth, walks right up to me, and shoves a forkful of lasagna right in. I about choke on it, both in disbelief and in defiance. But it’s good. It’s better than good…it’s the best thing I’ve ever had. It probably helps that I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten. My body doesn’t seem to care that I’m done living. It wants another bite. I try to stay strong, but she isn’t having it. She just shoves another forkful in, this time I’m ready for it so I don’t choke. She smiles smugly, then puts the plate down.
“Thank you. Need eat you. Randy worried. Randy care about you. Eat. For him.”
She then picks the plate back up and holds out another bite. This time in question, letting me make the decision. I hate that I can hardly feed myself, but I don’t have the energy to fight anymore. So, I open my mouth, bite after bite. I chew and swallow. She’s right. I’m not being fair to my uncle. He’s had nothing but loss in his life as well, and having to worry about me on top of it all is selfish on my part. The food lodges in my throat and turns to stone in my stomach.
“Tell you how sorry and how horrible not. Nothing say me help you. Know.” Her face is filled with so much understanding and compassion that I want to ask her who she lost, but of course I say nothing. I’m a selfish asshole and I know it, but I can’t be pulled away from my pain and into someone else’s, not right now. “Nothing say me. Nothing help feel better you.” It’s the first time someone has voiced the real truth. Not just offered their apologies and said how much this sucks. She’s right. There’s nothing that can be done, and just hearing it, hearing that someone actually gets it, helps just the slightest bit.
“Cook, be here can me.” She sits down next to me on the bed and grabs my hand. “Scream, throw, break things you. Fine. Clean mess me. But need do something, Barrett. Need more than sleep you. Sign can’t. Drive can’t. Understand me. Scream, break things can. Need get emotion out you.” I pick my phone up off the dresser and I painfully type out every word with my pointer finger. The only two fingers I didn’t break are my pointer and thumb on my left hand, making it possible to still text…possible, but not easy, and certainly not fast.
Barrett: People scream, throw things to release pain. Hearing how broken feel them help. But can’t help me. Can’t hear pain. Can’t feel full impact with silent screams.
I finally get the text out and I hand the phone to her. Admitting that to someone leaves me feeling raw and vulnerable, but she put herself on the line today by coming here, knowing I would most likely reject her, but she stayed anyway.
She reads the text, not bothering to school her reaction. It isn’t pity I see, which is what I was expecting. An understanding flits across her face and then a moment later resolve. She sets my phone down and nods once in understanding. She just looks at me a moment, then comes to some realization as she stands up and turns on the radio. She puts it on something with a lot of bass and turns it up loud enough that I can feel it. I’m not sure why though until she kneels down in front of me and places my casted hands on her shoulders, causing me to lean down right in her face. Then she signs one word.
“Scream.” My confusion is clearly all over my face because she smiles sadly.
“Right say you. Hear can’t. Help pain not. Let me take the pain for you. Let me hear the pain for you. Scream. It won’t be for nothing. Productive will. Give me your pain. Take it me can.” She then looks up with watery eyes and nods once at me. I don’t even think about it, I just open my mouth and let all the pain, frustration, and torture I’ve been feeling explode from me. I scream until my throat feels like it’s going to bleed. I scream out my guilt. My anger. My utter despair, they come flying out of my mouth and this selfless girl absorbs it all. She doesn’t flinch and turn away, or wince from the sound of my voice. She doesn’t move a muscle, never taking her eyes from mine. The tears trail down her face, mirroring my own.
I’ve never believed in love at first sight. I’ve never felt an instant connection like people are always talking about. To me, that type of understanding, that type of deep connection can only be made through time and experience. Yet right now in this moment we share a connection deeper than I even knew was possible. I’ve just shared my soul with her and she accepted all of my pain and ugliness. Someone she doesn’t even know. She’s taken it on without cause or benefit. We just shared something deeper than I thought was possible, all without words and barely even any contact. When I’m hoarse and physically drained, I lean my head on her shoulder and cry. I cry until I can’t breathe, I cry until I have nothing left in me, and she holds me, crying with me, and doing exactly as she promised. She absorbs my pain.