THIS Is Me... (3 page)

  In the silence that follows I just try to breathe.  I'm not sure what the problem is, but I feel like I should know.  I wish to god I could wake up, but I'm just so tired from all this sleeping.

  It’s like I’m trapped in my body somehow.  I feel so awake, but so damn tired.  I feel too awake to keep sleeping, but way too tired to wake up.
 
“All we do is wait.  That's it.  We wait and wait.  We've spent almost 3 months just waiting, and I can't stop wondering what we're all waiting for?  What if it’s bad?  What if nothing is the same again?  What if she really is gone this time?”
  “Kayla, I honestly don't believe that to be true.  I believe she's here just taking her time so she can come back to us fully recovered.”
  “But will she ever be fully recovered?  I mean really- look at her.”
  “I hope so.  I
believe
so Kayla.  I think she's going to come back again stronger than ever.”
  What am I recovering from?  What happened to me?  God, I wish someone would say one friggin' thing that makes sense for once.
 
“Do you think I'm a terrible person, Mack?  Am I a bitch for being tired of all this- this Suzanne
drama
all the time?”
 
“No, I don't think you're a bitch.  You're a mean, sadistic, nasty, man-eating woman, but you're definitely not a bitch.”
  Wow.  I think she's laughing. 
Laughing?!
What the hell?  Who makes someone laugh by saying such awful things to them?  This is just so twisted.
 
“Thanks, Mack.  You're always so nice to me.  When you dump the other Kayla, make sure you give me a call, okay?”
  “Give me a hug, and go home.  You're totally exhausted.  But I'll see you later, and I'll be out of your hair in the morning.  And by the way, if I ever dump Kayla, another Kayla is the last person I'll be hooking up with.  Just an FYI.”
  Is he smiling?  He kind of sounds like it.
  “Fair enough, Mack.”
 
  When there’s nothing but silence, I think I kind of exhale.  It's weird to be here, but not here.  I feel like I'm intruding on these people, though they’re here in
my
dream.  I don't know them and I don’t understand what's happening, but I feel kind of desperate to get away from them. 

  I wish I could just wake up because I'm really tired of all this shit, too.
 
“Mack, I really have enjoyed you being around.  You're a great guy to live with.  Actually, you hold the title of being the
only
man I've ever lived with.  And though it’s only been 2 and a half months, I'm gonna miss your Mackness around my apartment.”
  “Kayla, please don't get all soft on me.  Crashing at your place for the last 10
weeks has been absolute hell,”
he laughs.
 
“Go home and relax.  I'll see you later.”
 
“I'm sorry about earlier, Mack.  I just thought I could scare her awake or something.”
  “I know
exactly
what you were trying to do, and it was a good thought.  But I don't think scaring Suzanne is the way to get to her.  Increasing her heart rate won't bring her back, but at least it IS proof that there's more going on now than there was before.  We'll figure this out, and we'll have her back soon.  I know it.  You have to be patient, Kayla.”
  “I'm trying... But time is running out.”
 

  Times running out for what?
 
“I know, but I won't stop fighting for her.  Just be a little more patient and she'll be back with us soon, okay?” 

  Where am I?
 
“Okay.  See you later, Mack.  Did you want to have Chinese at midnight?  You know, our last hurrah or something?”
  “Sounds good.  I'll call it in and pick it up on my way back to your place.  Just go home and relax.  I need you to relax, and I need you to stay healthy for me.”
  “You know Mack... Suzanne was right about you.  You really are the most amazing man, certainly, that
I've
ever known.  I’ll see you at home.  And thanks.”
  “No problem.” 
  “Um, Suzanne… I’m really sorry.  I didn't mean to scare you, or to be mean to you.  I just want you to wake up so badly, I sometimes forget to be nice.  But I'll see you soon- maybe in a few days.  I just need a little break now, and I hope you understand.  I’ve got to go for a few days, but I'll be back soon.  I miss you, Suzanne.”
 
  When there is only silence I wait for more, and then...
 
“
Jesus,
Suzanne.  You just couldn't wake up and stop all THAT insanity, could you?”
  Ooops, sorry.

CHAPTER 4

MAY 5

  Am I awake?  Honest to god, I can't figure out what's happening to me.  I can hear people talking all the time.  I hear that guy talking nonstop, but I'm just so cold and dark and alone. 
  I can't understand what's happening here.  I can't even figure out what I'm doing here.  But I feel completely trapped. 

  It's like I'm in a little crawl space, or maybe in a cave somewhere.  It's like I'm a little girl hiding in the dark again, in the little hidden broom closet past the guest bedrooms.
  Oh!  I remember my hiding spot.  I remember staying in there when I was young when my mother would be calling out my name for my punishments. 

  Ugh, I remember the smell of the closet where I hid.  It was so gross in my little girl memory.  It was like I was surrounded by lemons AND alcohol or bleach, or something chemical like that.  It always smelled so potent and strong in the space where I hid.  God, the smell used to burn my eyes and nose when I was little.
  The smell would sometimes even stick to my clothes and hair.  Sometimes, after leaving my hidden closet I could smell that awful closet stench in my nose for a while, even after I changed my clothes and sprayed perfume on my hair.  I know I didn't
actually
smell like lemons and alcohol anymore, but I still smelled it in my nose afterward when I was finally free.  It was such a gross smell for me.  It used to make me gag, even hours after I left the closet.

  God, I remember the little hidden broom closet where I hid.  My mother would always pass the little closet on her way to our side of the upstairs; the side with our bedrooms.  But sometimes she'd wait there in front of the door, maybe just thinking or waiting for me to surface.  I don't actually know why she would just wait there, but she always did.
  Maybe she would wait in the hallway for me to show up suddenly because I stupidly thought she'd stopped looking for me... But I never thought that.  I
always
knew she was still looking for me, and I never came out.  I was never as stupid as she said I was.
  I remember sometimes hearing her talk to herself.  I remember holding my breath while waiting, almost crying with my fear because I didn't want her to find me.  I remember the bad things she would say about me when she didn't know I was in the little closet listening.  I remember all her bad words about me, all the time. 
  And I remember learning what some of those bad words meant afterwards.  I used to try to remember what she called me when she was angry, so I could find out later what the words actually meant.  I remember so many bad words from my mother, all the time. 
  It was so sad for me to finally understand the words she called me, especially when I knew they weren't true.  I knew I wasn't what she called me, and I knew I didn't do what she said I did.  But she would still mumble the bad words about me to herself while I waited in silence, desperate to get free of the stinky, hidden, little broom closet on the guest side of the upstairs.
   For years, I remember desperately trying to wait her out.  I remember counting for so long, sometimes even counting all the way to five thousand until she stopped waiting for me.  I remember once even counting to ten thousand until I stopped hearing her call my name- I was really scared that day. 
That
day she was extra angry at me for hiding, and she said lots and lots of bad words about me that weren't true.
  And sometimes even my father would call for me when my mother was very angry at me.  But again, I just held my breath and waited for him to stop calling for me as well.  I never came out of the closet for my father.  And I NEVER came out for my mother when she was angry with me.

  After a long time, they usually gave up looking for me.  Usually, they went away.  Usually, I could wait them both out.  Usually, if I was real quiet, counting silently in my head, crying silently in the dark, my parents would go away eventually. 

  Usually, if I was really quiet they would stop looking for me, and I would be safe for a while.  Safe from the punishments and safe from all the bad words.
  It's funny that I was so afraid of her back then because my mother was just so
small
.  She was so skinny all the time; it's like she stopped growing at 12 years old or something.  Actually, I remember my mother was always sickly skinny. 

  Why was I so afraid of her when I was little?  Huh.  It's kind of weird now, because I think I probably out-weighed her adult body when I was 12 years old myself. 
  Why did she like looking like that?  Who wants to be shaped like a little girl? 

  My mother was just so skinny and small, and she always wore dark clothes to make herself look even skinnier.  She told me I should always wear dark clothes to look skinny because she looked good and she was skinny.  She told me we had to be skinny so men liked touching us.
  So my mother was super skinny like a little girl, but she had awful wrinkly hands like an old lady.  God, my mother's hands and arms were so skinny and bony when I was little, she always looked like a little girl skeleton to me.  I didn't know why she wanted to be that skinny.  I didn’t know why she wanted her bones to push out of her skin, but that's what she wanted, so that's what they did.
  I remember when she bushed my hair when I was young I hated seeing her hands touch me through the mirror.  My mother would hum quietly while staring at my eyes through the mirror, just as
I
watched through the mirror her lovely face while she hummed and brushed my hair. 

  I remember always closing my eyes during this quiet time with her, and I remember my mother always kissing the back of my head once my eyes were finally closed. 
  I think she thought I liked her brushing my hair when I was little, but I really didn't.  My mother's skinny skeleton hands scared me so badly I used to have to try very hard not to shake from my fear of them. 

  I remember always waiting for my mother to put the brush down and wrap her tiny, bony hands around my throat.  I remember thinking her gross, bony hands would slowly work their way around my throat, gently closing, tighter and tighter, until I stopped breathing altogether. 

  Sometimes, I just
hoped
I would stop breathing, so I wasn't afraid anymore.  But I never stopped breathing, and I've
never
stopped being afraid of her.
  I don't know why I remember my mother always liked brushing my hair.  It's so strange to remember now but after our baths together she would dress me quickly so she could begin brushing my hair dry.  I think that was the only time my mother seemed kind of nice to me.  Well, as long as I didn't look at her awful skeleton hands, she seemed kind of nice to me. 
  But the rest of the time my mother was just a mean little girl-sized skeleton, whose hands looked like they wanted to wrap slowly around my throat, gently closing, tighter and tighter until I stopped breathing finally.

  I wonder why I don't hear her in my dream.  Has she finally stopped looking for me?
 

                                          *****
 

 
“Suzanne, it’s Z.  Can you hear me, love?  Can you open your eyes for me, please?  I'm so desperate to see your eyes on me.  God, Suzanne, I miss you so much.  Can you please wake up for me now?  I know you're here and I know you're coming back to me, but could you please try to come back now, Suzanne?  Could you please try to wake up for me?”
   I don't know this man.  And he's not the same man as before- the Mack.  I know I don't know this man.  How does he know me?  Oh, shit! Am I
still
sleeping?
 
“Suzanne, New York Kayla is going to be here any minute now and she's feisty as hell today.  Do you really want to piss off your New York Kayla?  Come on Suzanne.  It's time.”
 

  Time for what?  Who are these people?  Where's Marcus?
 
“Suzanne, I can't stay here much longer today but I'd really like you to wake up for me now.  We have so much to talk about.  We have so many things to discuss, and I can't do anything if you don't wake up for me.  Open your eyes, love.  Mack is here with you and New York Kayla is coming soon, and we all just want you to wake up so we can talk to you.  Please, love?  Please wake up for me.”
  I don't know you, and I don't think I can wake up.  Where's Marcus?
 
“Suzanne, it’s Z.  I'm still here with you.  I've been here every day, waiting for you to come back to me.  I've left New York and I'm waiting here for you.  We're all waiting for you, love.  Could you please wake up now?”
 

  Who's waiting?  Where's Marcus?
 
“Suzanne, I love you so much and I'm so sad without you.  Everything just hurts so badly without you, and I'm so tired of living like this.  I'll wait forever if I have to, but I'm begging you, Suzanne- I need you to wake up for me.  I know you're coming back, Mack told me, but could you please hurry up, love?  Please, Suzanne... I'm so lost,”
he moans.
  Wow.  This is so weird.  I have NO idea who this guy is, but his sadness is like, on my skin and inside me or something.  It's like I can feel his words when he speaks them.  His words wash all over my skin, and they make me feel sad for him.  His voice is so dark, and his words are so sad, and I feel terrible for him.