Like You Do
these bones
february 15th, 2015
_____
Running my left hand through my dark, tangled locks, I let out a low groan, pinching the bridge of my nose with the thumb and forefinger of my right, trying to will the pressure that is building in my skull to disperse. I've been awake now for 32 hours straight and haven't moved from my spot in this rock hard steel chair save for the couple times I've gotten up to piss.
Shifting my weight uncomfortably, I sling my right foot onto my left knee, which continues to bounce impatiently, despite the added weight, as I tap my sneakered heel against the sterile tile floor of the ER waiting room. Letting both hands fall to my lap, I fold them together, letting them mesh so tightly that the contact almost hurts. I bite down hard on my lip, stifling another agonized groan.
The sound of rubber sliding against tile meets my ears and I jerk my head to the left, my bloodshot eyes straining to see through the tear-stained lenses of my glasses as I search for your smiling face amongst the small group of exiting patients and nurses. You aren't there.
I slump down in my seat with a half-choked sob, letting my head fall back against the wall. They won't even let me see you. Because we're not "family".
"It's bullshit."
Maybe it was the lack of sleep that made me say it aloud. Maybe I was just sick and tired of sitting here, worrying, wondering if you were dead or alive. But I said it, and boy did it come out slurred, tangled, as if I were speaking through cotton.
I catch more movement out of the corner of my eye. A nurse stretches her neck up to glance at me above the raised edge of the nurse's station. Her round face is full of loose wrinkles that deeply contrast her tight-lipped scowl. She looks like a bitch and a half, and I'm not in the mood.
Tears begin to prick at my eyes as all of my memories come rushing toward me at full force. This can't be the end. We have so much more happiness to share. I felel my heart start to swell. My chest begins to tighten. It starts to get hard to breathe.
Damn it, Mark. Hold it together. I squeeze my eyes shut and tuck my arms around my body, tightening them as the pain and uncertainty hits me full force and sweeps me away, into the growing hopelessness inside my head.
_____
How did we get here? It isn't supposed to end like this.
_____
Running my left hand through my dark, tangled locks, I let out a low groan, pinching the bridge of my nose with the thumb and forefinger of my right, trying to will the pressure that is building in my skull to disperse. I've been awake now for 32 hours straight and haven't moved from my spot in this rock hard steel chair save for the couple times I've gotten up to piss.
Shifting my weight uncomfortably, I sling my right foot onto my left knee, which continues to bounce impatiently, despite the added weight, as I tap my sneakered heel against the sterile tile floor of the ER waiting room. Letting both hands fall to my lap, I fold them together, letting them mesh so tightly that the contact almost hurts. I bite down hard on my lip, stifling another agonized groan.
The sound of rubber sliding against tile meets my ears and I jerk my head to the left, my bloodshot eyes straining to see through the tear-stained lenses of my glasses as I search for your smiling face amongst the small group of exiting patients and nurses. You aren't there.
I slump down in my seat with a half-choked sob, letting my head fall back against the wall. They won't even let me see you. Because we're not "family".
"It's bullshit."
Maybe it was the lack of sleep that made me say it aloud. Maybe I was just sick and tired of sitting here, worrying, wondering if you were dead or alive. But I said it, and boy did it come out slurred, tangled, as if I were speaking through cotton.
I catch more movement out of the corner of my eye. A nurse stretches her neck up to glance at me above the raised edge of the nurse's station. Her round face is full of loose wrinkles that deeply contrast her tight-lipped scowl. She looks like a bitch and a half, and I'm not in the mood.
Tears begin to prick at my eyes as all of my memories come rushing toward me at full force. This can't be the end. We have so much more happiness to share. I felel my heart start to swell. My chest begins to tighten. It starts to get hard to breathe.
Damn it, Mark. Hold it together. I squeeze my eyes shut and tuck my arms around my body, tightening them as the pain and uncertainty hits me full force and sweeps me away, into the growing hopelessness inside my head.
_____
How did we get here? It isn't supposed to end like this.