The Great Escape: Absence

[Life goes on. It gets so heavy, the wheel breaks the butterfly.]

I thought about what I had confessed this afternoon, and wondered how quickly I could unravel. How quickly I could calm the urge to numb out the anger, with pills that I no longer had.  

As I pushed the wine onto the counter, it sloshed some, but I didn’t stop to clean it up. Instead I walked upstairs, and dug through my purse. When I found the container of tic tacs, I realized that it wouldn’t be as satisfying when I popped a couple into my mouth, but did so anyway and walked into the bathroom.

I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do next. I thought about locking the door, but had a rude awakening after the fact that I couldn’t quite catch my breath, and I couldn’t imagine my husband finding me on the floor.

It would cause way too many questions to be formed, that I wasn’t quite ready to answer. 

So I went to the next best thing and turned on the faucet, before splashing my face with cold water.

I thought about Claudia Joy and Denise—how they would need me to be strong as they both faced quite a major surgery ahead of them at the end of this week.

That meant that I couldn’t suddenly just turn back to drugs.  As much as I wanted them, I had met with an off-base doctor who had prescribed a schedule. I could slowly wean myself off the drugs. I had already taken my daily dose for the day, and was supposed to talk to a therapist on Wednesday. That was still two days to go and I already felt like I was falling.

In the bedroom, my phone was ringing. For once, I had no desire to answer it, and let it go on until it was silent again. I went on to dry my face with a towel that I pulled out of the drawer and looked at myself in the mirror.

I felt like crying, but I had absolutely no tears to give. I was pale and was no longer hungry: being both relieved and saddened when there was no sign of my husband as I pushed back the covers in bed, and lay down in the comfort of my home. The same home which held tension, sadness and secrets; creaked at the silence, like a moan that had been held in too long.

I don’t know how long I had been lying there, when I finally let my eyes drift closed—or when I felt the covers warm the cold that had been lingering over my skin. I had been too numb to move to do it, and could only think of who was standing beside me as I fell into darkness.

When I woke, the sun was shining through the curtains. As I ran my hand over my husband’s side of the bed, I found it long cold: which left me looking at the clock to see the time to be five minutes after ten-thirty in the morning.

I laid there momentarily, trying to think of the last time that I had slept in that long. Soon, I concluded that I hadn’t slept in since high school or the end of college—since the days making to-do lists of everything that I had to do.  

Speaking of to-do lists, I had missed a get together with Denise, Roxy and Claudia Joy this morning. We were supposed to go over some last minute things for the FRG meeting on Friday, since both Denise and Claudia Joy weren’t going to be there for awhile.

I grabbed a quick shower, and started the coffee to go along with my cereal. I was drying my hair with the towel when my stomach started rumbling. It was already almost noon, but I still didn’t feel like I could just skip breakfast.

Placing the towel around my neck, I ran the pick through my hair once more, before scrunching it a little and headed downstairs. I was beginning to feel better as I got a little food in me, but as soon as I stood from my chair, I had another wave of dizziness that caused me to grab a hold of the table.

At first I thought it was just a coincidence that I was getting these dizzy spells, but now that it had happened a second time, I wasn’t so sure. It was worrisome, although I still had a lot to do today—yet I didn’t feel like doing anything.

Recovering, I placed my bowl in the dishwasher and headed towards the back of house and outside for some air. As I did, I began to think of the causes: getting up too quickly, stress, sickness, exhaustion, or even my drug habit.

I thought the drugs that I took would elicit a reaction, but from the doctor’s point of view, I shouldn't be going through—if any at all withdrawal symptoms—if I kept on schedule.

I was.

Walking slowly out the door, I walked to the other side of the house and got as far as the trees before I emptied the contents of my stomach. Just standing there hunched over, reminded me of the banquet all over again.

Slowly, I walked over to the side porch and sat down. We almost never used this place, which made it feel more secluded than usual. And just as I sat down, I heard a car door slam closed.

I didn’t think much of what it meant, but continued to sit there like a mindless idiot. I began to shiver, the longer I sat. It hadn’t been apparent at first—in fact I was pretty sure that I had blocked out how sick I felt, yet it almost all made sense: passing out on the couch, falling asleep early, lack of appetite and nausea.

When was the last time I didn’t actually want to drink my wine?

That was probably my last logical thought, as I let my mind wander off. I was already sick of thinking, and I was cold. Very cold. Talking echoed through to the back of the house as I rubbed at my arm, then went up to my wet hair. I had almost forgotten that I had walked out of the house with a sleeveless shirt and jeans on. I was clearly not thinking at all.

“This is not like her Claudia Joy.”

My mind went back to the slamming of the car door, echoing like it had just happened. Something in the back of my mind, told me that it hadn’t. I stumbled out of my seat, and had somehow managed to make it to the trees before emptying my stomach again.