"somewhere other than inside the out there." --part thirty two.
to and fro, there's a spider spinning what will only end up a cobweb right above my head between the metal slats of my ceiling fan. fasten, jump, fasten, jump, examine, fasten, jump. it's a soft x-y-z just for a bit of dinner tonight.
i wish my fingertips could dissolve and mutate into pen tips, doing all the work for me while i take a rest between the large pillows on my bed.
i don't have too much in the way of filler. as much as i tap my foot or put my chin in my hand, only so many sighs can attempt to assist elapsing time.
i climbed into my car yesterday after work. it was about four thirty, and the sun had been playing peekaboo all day. my car was a toasty sort of warm. my car coughed as i turned the key, and the music i had been playing on the way to work popped in the air. peter gabriel and his "so" kinda made me smile. it had been a long day. without forewarning, all of these old things, that i try not to think about, invaded my head. i sat in the parking lot, and my panic attack sat in the passenger seat with raised eyebrows and a childish smirk. i turned off the music and listened to my own breathing and two employees teasing each other by the store entrance. i drove home and went straight to bed.
it was sticky humid when i woke up. it was dark outside, and my room was the same. stretching with a deep breath, my lungs took in some air a lot like the mississippi river.
when i moved here, i expected a change, but i almost expected it on a proverbial level. the level that we all just talk about, "oh that will be a nice change." the type of change with only a zip code to tell the difference.
my mom came down to new orleans to help me move. the boxes were packed. the cds were haphazardly divided between the two of us. we still didn't know what to do with all of them. it was a collective collection. my clothes were stuffed into suitcases. i left him pots and pans. we moved some stuff into the living room, which would be his new room.
about a week before departure date, my friends from work wanted to take me out to dinner. i kissed boy goodbye; he was laying down with one of his frequent headaches. i told him i'd be back in a bit, and did he want me to bring him back some food?
not ten minutes away from our place, the cell started to ring.
"yeah, bean?"
"i can't feel my hands."
"are you ok?"
"i don't know." there was a tangible panic in his voice.
"i'm coming home." i called my friend and cancelled as i was performing the most dukes of hazzard u-turn ever done on carrollton (i'm convinced).
i ran up the stairs of our building.
he was laying on our bed, and although i had made a raucous, he hadn't heard me come in. he was calling my name, but he was surprised when i answered.
i sat next to him and held his hand. i put my face to his forehead and talked soft things to him, jump fasten jump examine.
his words got a little jumbled here and there. at one point, he screamed in pain. he couldn't feel his hands or his feet. his lips were numb to touch and to all else.
"do you want to go to the hospital?"
"i don't know," but it was a weak answer.
i called his dad, and we decided to take him over to their house. i helped him up, and down the stairs, and into my car. he dozed in the car from the three ibuprofen he had taken.
when we got to his dad's, i was trying hard to eclipse my panic. his dad and i spoke briefly before deciding to take him to the emergency room.
boy and me and his stepmom and his dad got into the car and took off for oschner.
once there, they fasttracked him since he wasn't bleeding or unconscious or anything.
i had never seen him so scared.
a couple hours later, he was called back. by this time, most of the headache had subsided, taken its place in the wings. boy could walk and talk again. he wasn't feelling fine, but he was on the up and up. the doctor went through all this hooplah. he made boy touch his nose, close his eyes and sway, jump up and down. ecetera. he noted it as caffeine and nicotine withdrawal, but as he was leaving the room, i told him that boy wouldn't have been able to do those things a couple of hours ago. i felt pretty silly for questioning the doctor, and boy kind of glared at me. but it was the truth. they gave him a shot in the ass and sent us home.
back in our bed, we held each other close. nose to nose, we thanked whoever for bringing us to each other, and we both began to cry. eye to eye, we promised, forever, to take care of each other.
silently, i prayed that he was really ok and that i could sleep forever right there.
