Evasive Evocation

You know that feeling you get when you are missing something? You check for your wallet, keys, and phone, and they’re all there, but something still isn’t right. It’s a pretty universal experience, I assume. Even the people who are the most organized and have their shit together must have experienced this at least once. The feeling is akin to deja vu in that it feels otherworldly and ethereal. Well, I have it and can’t shake it. This time, it feels almost ominous and is increasing my anxiety in a way that feels comfortable in its familiarity and frightening in its severity. Though the day is hot, I have goosebumps and am shivering. 

Today is an important day. I woke up early and donned the outfit I had laid out the night before, which I had meticulously assembled to be appropriate for my appearance. I arranged my documents and personal affects in my newly purchased briefcase, which I bought specifically for this event, in a manner that was not like my usual disorganized pile of papers and bills I always intended to deal with later yet never got around to handling. I prepped a healthy breakfast the night before so that even if I overslept or was running late, I could grab it and eat it on the train instead of turning to junk food or skipping breakfast altogether. But I didn’t oversleep or run late. I woke up before my alarm, which never happens, dressed in my professional attire, and ate breakfast in contemplative silence, focusing on how I would proceed throughout the day. I had it planned out step-by-step and moment-by-moment, which is a relief as I’m having trouble recalling any of the details right now due to my panic. Everything has been planned out, therefore, there’s no need to worry. I’m not naturally an organizer and spend my life running late and playing catch up, but today is too important to make any mistakes, and I am leaving nothing to chance. The most important thingl I know about my actions today is that my actions today are the most important actions that I’ve ever had. 

Now, I sit on the train knowing I fucked up. I forgot something. I left out a critical element needed to complete the plan that I can’t currently recall. Not my keys, phone, or wallet. I have my briefcase and check its contents repeatedly. Nothing is missing. My wedding ring is on my ring finger, where it belongs. What could I have forgotten? As the train nears the city, my anxiety turns to panic. I worked so hard to appear composed, but I feel I’m falling apart.  

The likely answer is that it’s just apprehension in regards to this court date, and I know it’s not that. I am truly missing something crucial, and will lead to my destruction. My life is about to be ruined, and I don’t know why; I just know it’s true. I stare at the passing landscape, sitting in my nausea and defeat. Sitting in acceptance that I’ve always known this was going to be the outcome. 

After a few moments of self-pity, I finally take in my surroundings. The train car had been nearly full when I arrived and now is emptied except for me. Was I so in my head that I didn’t notice a single person leave? I dissociate frequently but never so much that I’d fail to notice the whole car disappearing. I notice two more things nearly simultaneously. Outside the window, the landscape is no longer visible due to fog, and on my ring finger, I no longer have my wedding ring. But why should I? I’ve never been married or even desired to do so. The thought of romance and relationships has always given me a disgusting feeling starting in my stomach and radiating throughout my body, not all that unfamiliar to the feeling I was experiencing now. Between being nauseated, having clammy hands, and feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up in alert, I am certain that I’m facing death or worse, and the freezing sensation was taking a toll as my fingers and toes were tingling like they do when you’re outside in winter without appropriate gear.

As the train turns and heads into a tunnel, it hits me. I have a daughter. I was never going to court to fight for custody like I thought. Why did I think that? Who was I supposed to fight against if I thought I was married to her father?  Who is her father? What is her name?! I open my briefcase to find vials of liquids and herbs instead of folders with documents. Where my laptop should’ve been are candles of various sizes and colors in a protective box lined with bubble wrap. I was on my way to trade my life, and someone had altered my memories to intervene with my plan. I am heading away from my goal. I don’t know what it was or where it is, but I am never going to make it on time due to someone’s intervention. I’m a failure, and it has something to do with my daughter. Was I trying to protect her? Was she terminally ill, and I was going to trade places to save her life? Despite not being able to remember anything about her but her existence, I know she is the most important thing in my world. I love her more than my life. The sudden loss I experience is worse than this horrid deja vu-like something-is-missing feeling. I can barely picture her face or remember her name as if there’s a block preventing me from thinking about her.  I’ve been thwarted, not for the first time, but definitely for the last time, as I am about to die.

As the train exits the tunnel, the fog is gone, and the car is again full of people and their noises. Memories flood back painfully. My daughter tricked and betrayed me. I hadn’t been trying to save her, I had been trying to save the world from her. It’s just that she is such a powerful witch; I never had a chance.