Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

I read a comic book one time that said, “you can’t feel numb, you can only be numb.” That was it. I couldn’t feel, I could only be numb. It’s not that I wasn’t sad, or upset or anything. I think it was that my mind and body just…shut down. Maybe I was in shock, or maybe it was to protect myself. I don’t know. I was a zombie.

I think that one of the things that made it so hard was that I had no one to support in their grieving. If it was just my Dad that died, I could be there for my Mom and sisters, and I probably wouldn’t be feeling it as much. But it was only me. I had all of it. Alone. Sure I have friends that were there for me, but they were not grieving with me. I think that grieving with someone would have made it easier.

At this point, I was way past the time off from school and work that they had given me to grieve. I wasn’t ready to go back however. Or maybe I didn’t want to. Maybe I had trouble finding importance in anything. How does that work? “My whole family is dead, but it’s really important that I go to school and get a degree so I can write music.” Makes no sense. And don’t even get me started on my job. Talk about pointless. “My family is dead, but I need to fold shirts and try to get the customers to buy a belt with their pants.” Fucking stupid. Even fun things lost their luster. I didn’t want to read, I didn’t want to play video games, I didn’t want to watch movies. Hence, I spent most of my time in bed.

One morning (or was it afternoon?) my roommate actually knocked on my door to ask if I was going to class. I guess he knew by this point that I had been blowing them off for a while. I told him no. He took some time trying to convince me, (which in retrospect I do appreciate) but I didn’t even care enough to make up an excuse or anything. I just let him talk. I asked if he was done, he said yes, and I told him to let me get back to sleep. I guess he respected my privacy enough not to come in, open my shade to let the sun in and drag me out of bed (like you see in the movies). After a moment I heard him walk away and leave for class. I lay there for a while, staring at the wall, and at some point, found my way to sleep.

I wake up to the phone ringing. I’ve got to turn the ringer volume down. I just listen to it, my whole body getting angrier with each ring. When it finally stops, I hear the answering machine’s outgoing message come on and then the muffled voice of someone leaving a message. I roll over and realize that I have to piss so bad it hurts, so I drag myself out of bed and go. While I’m up, I figure I’ll shuffle around the house for a little bit. I notice that it’s getting dark out, so I go into the kitchen to see what time it is. It’s 5:38, which gives me a good idea who was calling. I hit the message button and listen. Sure enough it was work. “You were supposed to be here at five, blah blah blah, we are sorry about your family, blah blah blah, but we’re going to have to fire you… Blah… Blah… Blah.” I look in the fridge to see if any food catches my eye, but nothing does. I check the freezer, but also nothing. Same goes for all the cupboards. Ok, now I’m bored. Then, something occurs to me. Hey, don’t I always complain about not having enough time to compose? Shit. No school, no work, I’ve got nothing but time! Unfortunately however, this optimism is short-lived. I turn on my computer and keyboard, and open all the appropriate files, and find all my notes…and end up playing the melodies to the themes of my favorite film scores. At least it’s something, I guess.

I’m still “playing” a couple of hours later when my roommate comes home and I hear him hit the message button on the answering machine. I didn’t hit the delete button after I listened to my message, so now it plays for him. He comes practically storming in and gives me a surprised and disappointed sounding, “You got fired?” “That’s what the message says,” I tell him. He tells me, “Tim, I know that you’re upset, but you can’t let go of all your responsibilities.” I tell him that, “It’s not because I’m upset, it’s because I fucking hated my job and at this point, it didn’t make sense to go anymore.” “What about rent?” he throws at me. The only response I can come up with is that, “I don’t really care about it right now.” “The world doesn’t just go away when you want it to,” is his last ditch effort. I tell him that, “I know the world doesn’t go away, but it will be fine without me for a while.”