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Farewell - 2006-03-15 |
2002-04-07 - 11:26 a.m. I walked up to a building � an insane asylum. No, that�s not where it starts� I rode to Lauren�s house on my bike because I thought I needed to take care of Molly, their dog. They were going to be leaving on a trip. I just wasn�t sure if it was that day that I need to stop by or if it was the next. But I thought just to make sure I would stop and see. I rode my bike up to the brick sidewalk. I got off and walked to the door, keeping my helmet on. I peered into the glass. It seemed dark in house. I looked at my watch. It was 7:30 in the morning. �It�s kind of early,� I thought. �They could just be asleep.� I decided I would come back a bit later. As I walked back to my bike the door opened. �Hey Sport!� John Lee called out. I ran back to him and hugged him. He is one of my most favorite people on earth. He knocked his fist on my helmet. �Come on inside.� I followed him and we worked up a bit of chit-chat. He sat down on the loveseat in front of the television and started to rip open another card � it was his birthday. I told him I felt bad for forgetting. I didn�t really and he knew I was just teasing so he grinned. Lauren and Andrew were in the room. Lauren came over to talk to me. Katherine sat on the ground at her father�s feet and Ryan observed from the corner. Vicki asked me if she could take my coat and hat. I thanked her and handed them over. Lauren and I talked about nothing inparticular. The doorbell rang. Andrew leapt up from his seat to answer the door. A slew of his friends came in behind him. I recognized two: Michael Peacock and Sarah Miller. I thought it a bit weird that they were there but I didn�t say anything. They found seats and watched John open his last card. He did and everyone started talking. The phone rang. �I predict,� John said and everyone fell silent, �that it�s your mother,� he said looking at me, �wanting to know where you are.� Vicki picked up the ringing phone. She handed it to me. John grinned. He was right, it was my mother. But he was also wrong � she wasn�t wondering where I was, she was wondering what I had done. She rattled off some name hurriedly. �I don�t know who that is!� I shouted. I noticed everyone in the room was watching me but I couldn�t help but be influenced by my mother�s panic. She babbled rapidly and kept saying �what did you do! what did you tell people!� I tried to calm her down. �Mom, exactly what has happened.� �They�ve charged you. This man says that it�s not that you have a stomach problem, it�s that you are actually bulimic and are trying to keep everyone from knowing and that in addition you�re an alcoholic.� �They can�t charge me for any of that.� �For the alcohol they can.� �I�ve never touched the stuff.� �They�re blaming you for a D.U.I. that went unexplained and you have no witnesses. No evidence! They�re going to get you for-� �Alcoholism!� I shouted. I began to sob. �I�m not an alcoholic! They can�t charge me with that! I�m coming home! Now!� I hung up the phone. Everyone starred at me. �Where are my shoes?� I hunted around and grabbed my coat, helmet, and my mother�s tennis shoes which I had worn because I had been too lazy to find my own. I raced out of the house, too embarrassed to remain inside while I cried my heart out. As I was putting everything on Andrew and a couple of the boys that had arrived ventured out into the driveway and half heartedly shot some hoops while they watched me. I left. Apparently, the only thing that saved me from going to jail was the testimony of one man. But because of what he said he was thrown into an insane asylum, which brings me back to where I was� I walked up to a building � an insane asylum. There were a four or five women standing outside the doors wanting to be let in. Before I reached the crowd I spotted a patient. I went up to him. �Let me in?� I asked. He escorted me to the door and swiped his card. The doors clicked. I opened one. �Thanks,� I said and hurried on inside. The mass of women caught the door before it closed and followed me. Up a flight of stairs I went and when I reached the second floor I shut a door and opened another to keep anyone from seeing me. I then headed down a hallway turning into another one that stopped with a window. There were four or five doors a bit close together and all of them heavily decorated. The women were still behind me. �It say�s it�s the third one down,� the overweight lady read from a piece of paper. They went to knock on the door and a huge man opened it before they even got the chance. �Oh excuse us,� they backed up and the huge man walked off the direction I had come. �Maybe it means the third from the window. They moved down one and knocked. The door swung open. No one was inside. �Perfect!� she yelled. �Let�s trash it before he comes back.� The room they went into was rather empty. Just a couple of chairs, a desk with some paper on it and a bed. I knew whose room it was. I went into the room next to it (the second from the window not the big oafs room). Inside was a blue bunk bed, a bean bag chair, a stereo, small fridge, desk with a lamp and toy, and two men. One white one black. The black man stood there. The white man, the focus of my attention laid in the bean bag chair with his sunglasses on. �They�re in your room. They said they�re going to trash it,� I told him. �Well, I had better do something about it,� he said. Martin, the black man, threw a blanket on him. �No you�re not,� he said. �You stay out of it. Just wait for them to leave.� �Relax,� he told Martin and stood up. �How have you been?� he asked me putting a hand around my waist. He pulled me towards him and we hugged. Too bad he was stuck in an asylum. It was nice to know he gave up his life so I could have mine, though. He went next door. Martin and I followed. �Hey!� he called out jovially to all the women. They swooned. He was good looking. �Wow! What�s all this?� he asked. The women had put together a small feast for this guy. They had jello pie and chicken. There was a bowl of potato salad, and another one of strawberry cream pie filling. �It�s for you!� the woman cried out. She took a handful of the strawberry cream pie filling and stuffed it into her mouth. Half of it fell out back into the bowl. She laughed and laughed. So did the other women. Martin and I looked on in disgust. But Guy said �Hey! Look at that! Good for you!� He walked past them and sat down on the bed. I followed him. The women started googling over him. I decided to state my claim. I sat down next to him on the bed and wrapped my arm around him. The women noticed this and looked up in a bit of disappointment. They finally backed off when I put my head on his shoulder and he kissed my forehead. There was a bit of telepathy going on between me in the women. �Mine!� I growled at them. �Back off.� And the obeyed as if I was the alpha bitch. The women eventually left and Martin went next door. I held Guy in my arms. We cuddled. He still had his sunglasses on. He smiled. �Do you want me to come by more often?� I asked. �Well if you want. I think it would be more of a benefit to you,� he said. �How�s that?� �Well you like this so much,� he said and kissed my neck. When he did that it felt like Joseph was kissing my neck and I hated it. I didn�t say anything though. �And this,� he said. He kissed it again. That time it was nice. I smiled and he pulled a bit away looking into my eyes. He smiled. He put his head down on me. The next time I was going to the asylum something happened on the way there. I was at the traffic light and I crossed when it said go. I noticed this man wearing a renaissance outfit coming up behind me. I walked a bit faster. He made me uncomfortable. He walked a bit faster. I sped up and so did he. Soon I was dashing down the sidewalk he caught up to me when I was across from the asylum. He grabbed my arm. �What do you want!� I yelled. �A duel!� he said and then murmured something in French. I noticed a van coming down the street. I dashed in front of it. So did the Frenchman. The van missed us both. I ran into the asylum and he followed me all the way up to Guy and Martin�s room. They were sitting near each other. �Who�s your friend?� Guy asked still wearing his sunglasses. �He�s not my friend,� I said. �He tried to attack me.� �Really? Well that�s not very nice. Did you try to attack her?� Guy asked the man. �Oui,� he said and babbled on some more in French. Guy is fluent in French and started conversing with the man. �I like him,� he told me. �Martin has something to tell you.� I turned my attention towards Martin. �We are the men that decide when we die,� he threw a ball at me. I caught it. �You�ve been trying to think of something profound to say all day, haven�t you?� I said. Martin nodded. I sat down on the bed, across the room from the Frenchman. Guy sat down next to me and placed his hand over mine. �I miss you,� I said. He bowed his head and put it against mine. I left. I walked down the hall and at a little desk sat an overweight woman in the middle of the room. �Miss Gibson!� she said stepping out from her desk. �I didn�t see you come in!� I flashed her a name tag that I had been using since day one of my entry to keep from getting in trouble. �Well, how did you get that? I didn�t give you one. I have yours right here.� She held up another nametag. I grabbed it from her and walked down the stairs. �Miss Gibson!� she hollered after me. I looked at the nametag: Sarah Gibson Indianapolis, IN I stopped. I think this is when I realized I was in a dream. I turned back towards the woman. �I live in Indianapolis?� �Yes,� she said. �Am I married?� �If you are I�ve never seen your husband.� I should have turned back and asked Guy who he really was but I didn�t. I ran downstairs and waited outside. �I should drive home,� I thought. I turned to a man on the street. �What kind of car do I drive?� �A red Kia,� he answered. I saw Blaine walk out of the building. I ran up to him. �Blaine!� I said. He looked at me. �Sarah Gibson,� I said. He grinned. �Well if that isn�t eccentric,� he said. �How�s that?� I asked. �Well given your profession,� he turned into this Academy kid named John who use to always say and did say now �shouldn�t you always buy a Gibson Guitar?� He melted back into Blaine. �Eccentric?� I asked �Well, you know since your husband�s a band director and all.� �I have a husband?� He just kind of starred at me. Then Bob Scales walked by. �Bob!� I hollered. �Sarah Gibson.� �Heh� she use to always hit me on the back of the head. Right here,� he pointed. I hit him in the back of the head. He didn�t seem to recognize me. �No not like that. She would hit here and then it would be brought up to here. It really hurt.� He walked away.
My dream then flash-forwarded me to when I was 61. I saw Bob. He looked to be about 80. He was sitting on these bleachers with his family. I approached him. He introduced me to his family and to his grandson who was a swimmer. �You know,� I said to his grandson but looking at Bob. I ran my hand over his wrinkled skin. �Your Grandfather was one of the best swimmers back in his day. Damn nice body too.� I kissed Bob�s forehead. He smiled. I awoke.
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