(February 14, 2010)

Valentine’s Day and the single girl. A trip into the city with my parents for a quiet evening on the town in celebration of the holiday. A distraction, a familial comfort in the face of a loveless life. It was a night of bright colors. Dim sparkled lighting inside the steakhouse, the way the hanging string-lights cast a rainbow pattern inside crystal glasses, against the ice and the water, inside my mother’s eyes when she looked at me, a pang of regret at the things I’ve done, the trip to California, the fight in sophomore year. Necessary, but painful. My dad cracking a smile from one corner of his whiskered cheek in approval, talking about jobs and retirement, a contradiction unheeded, but easily forgotten; a daughter, her parents.

The waiter, hot plates and napkins, a gentle hand on the shoulder to reach across the table, a sparkle in his eye too, an extra gaze for a few seconds too long, the shredded cheese unimportant. It only took three bites. A unique recipe. The waiter returned promptly, the tinkle of the ice cubes, the sound of the water crashing against water too loud,

Too loud before replaced with a ringing and the world breaking apart.

go two dimensional, flat white explosions around the cracks, pieces of the scene break off and glimmer, the black swirls at the edges and threatens takeover, my head feeling light, too light, something funny, my dad catching on in barely the time of two heartbeats not pumping right, grabbing the waiter by the arm, to his feet in an instant, an old navy man pushed deep inside surfacing above cold deep water, a gasp of breath,

“Was this prepared with peanuts?! Anywhere near the dish?”

But it was me sliding from my chair that acted as more confirmation than the waiter’s wide eyes and murmurs. Going black, only bursts of white light, blurred red, the ceiling, string lights, supernova starbursts, fighting for consciousness, fighting.

“Call 911!”

Forgot the epi pen.

A sweet blackness pressing, my limbs gone, my torso gone, my head alone, eyes forgotten, senses deprived, a floating, a mind alone, no need for thought, see through the curtain, drift…

Forgot. So easily. An accident in the kitchen, an accident at home, a hand of God, that tonight should be the night. If such were the means, far reach, so be it.

A burst, pain, but sweet flow of air, fuzzy images back, my head too heavy now, a pounding, a screaming in my ears.

“Get her moving, bring the car around!”

“Paramedics are on the way, sir!”

“No time. No time. Eight o’clock traffic.”

“There’s a hospital six blocks from here!”

“We’re going.”

Drift… a sensation fluid, close your eyes and go. The blurry colors swirl, make me dizzy, head drops back, spinning, spinning, drift…

Murmurs and comfort. You’re gonna be fine baby, you’re gonna be fine.

Didn’t feel fine. Feel sluggish, then drift, gone again, gentle black cushion, a peace.

Back again with a flickering and a buzz,

“Stay with me, Katie, dammit!”

My mom.

“C’mon, change, light, change!”

“Dive safely, Gregory!”

“I am!”

The hand tilts, beckons, reaches and nudges, ever so gently, the violence of the steel,

Green light, punch it, pop the clutch and gear, the silver sports car, misses the light, catches a yellow, red, two seconds late,

It happens fast, the car crumples, metal shrieks, my father doesn’t cry out but my mother does. The doors go like foil but the steel is sharp, where it doesn’t pierce it folds and locks. We spin. The lights out of control, ice like glass, windshield fractals, car horns scream and scream and scream. There’s blood somewhere, there’s more bangs and more motion and more spinning and street lamps above flicker and twirl, it’s a dance, God pushes, leads, steps forward and opens, spins, a romance,

valentine’s day,

welcomes back. Come on up to my place? It’s a penthouse suite. A great courtship, end, a night beginning.

I don’t know when the car stops spinning because my mind is spinning. My throat wants to close. Blood on the pen, sprays, the urge to cough and the pain that cuts deep. I’m folded into a crouched fetal shape, a birth imminent for each, two up, one out.

The seat has snapped around Mom and bent her back at a funny angle and she’s twisted and staring at me, arched. Can’t talk. Dad reaches to hold her tight against him but she doesn’t feel it.

I’m staring into her eyes and she smiles.

A teardrop, beaded up and curled. Ignore the bleeding others and pay attention.

This one, reflects the outside in a warp, the image upside-down, the day running backward, college graduation, moving away from home, the fight, high school, proms and nights at home watching movies and eating pizza and laughing, birthdays, Christmases, full days lost under trees and family and the laughter and midnight coming, three of us, sharing a glass of wine, remembering, grade school, conferences, slumber parties and makeup, dress up, the hospital and a birth.

If I look closely, I fancy inside the drop I can see an image of myself, peering deep.

Water slips, a flat stream, too much weight, the drop grows thick, too heavy, out of control, it loses grip on the lash and slides down her cheek, the rest of the surface dries clear,

fade.

Her mouth moves soundlessly.

Fade.

The rain is falling on the car, a cold rain, sleet,

An ambulance flickers red and blue oncoming, throwing blind light to the glass again, a frozen moment, the water running, thick, first red, then blue, white. The lights don’t strike the glass, they don’t lay flat, outspread, shielding, in that moment I see the boxy vehicle, I hear its scream through the drum roll on the roof, I see the reflective tape catch my lights like a flashbulb on an iris.

I press a hand against the glass. Peer out.

I can’t see anyone. The water is a shimmer. The pane of glass like a fountain, melting into the street, refreshing from the top again. Two fingerprints smudge.

I can’t see out.

No one can see in.

A cat in a locked box.

A sense of decay.

Dad hasn’t moved since he leaned over Mom. I scream. I scream long and hard but it’s unheard.

I’m in here. I’m in here. I’m trapped in here.

Red and blue and white against the shimmer of water. Flat. Just me in here now. Just myself and my demons.

I scream again and my head goes light, fuzzy, the world goes flat and breaks apart again, shatters along the cracks, fades into a blackness.

Come back, Katie. Not yet.

Forced eyes open, the world still pixelated, a picture zoomed in, nothing between the cracks but colored boxes. There is no meaning here.

A face at the glass, looking inside, watching me, staring, considering, head cocked, mouthing something, a voice unheard. Like a fish outside of water, I mouth back, words don’t rise, nothing to say, communication shot, my head is passing again. They’re pulling at the handles and can’t open the doors, they want to break the glass. They want the jaws of life,

but then the world shatters again, along the spider-webs, black ink oozes, a world below, reach for the cracks, long for that peace, chase your parents, touch her face, look at the world through the teardrop and see it running backwards, a reversal near caught, your reflection upside down, a truth, an honesty, an emotion forced to physical,

the teardrop pressed at the finger of God,

made palpable,

a crack near the edge of her eye, an ectoplasm, a drop from that world into ours.

Reach deep, reach far, grasp with the fingers on the edge of the glass where it has shattered, the blood isn’t needed, just tears,

an emotion stretching, you can’t deny it, you can see it, it’s an act of love, a beauty in the situation, a meaning, her passing, my chasing.

Again, swirling and surrounding deep, head heavy, deny the physical and chase the floating black,

A deeper tear, tear, tear, tear.

Nudge it open, chase the light of those before,

Tear the world apart.

A white shatter, a madness hard, the light explodes, non physical, teardrop, glory and fear, the

monster, full in front, no eyes to close, no head to turn away, no door to slam but the one behind,

flash

paddles like a key, beat on my chest, shirt torn open, naked, water running against skin,

black swirls, the monster’s eyes aflame, screams, the terror deep, he is death, he is watching from that world, of the black, looking out, be wary and don’t come near, don’t follow when you shouldn’t, there’s meaning here

he isn’t it.

flash

paddles like a key, beat on my chest, shirt torn open, naked, water running against skin, a gasp of breath,

black swirls again.

The monster laughing, fleeing backwards, afraid, lost, the lights gone, the black pressing again, head spinning, feverish, coughing and hacking and clawing and breath,

flash

paddles like a key, beat on my chest.

There’s white light and electricity and I reach forward to wipe the tear from Mom’s cheek but Mom isn’t in front of me, the car is left behind, crumpled gone, and my arm won’t move. In a motion, toward the sky, shut inside and left, screaming, into the distance again, sucked away,

fleeing backwards, afraid, lost, the lights gone, the black pressing again.

“Stay with us, girl. Stay with us.”