Darkness Makes You See

Darkness Makes You See

Brenda Cowey

All alone in the dark. One place you cannot hide from yourself. Thoughts run through your head keeping you awake. How can one shut them off? Please tell me all the bloggers and self-help gurus out there. I have read all the same ideas and tips written by the proclaimed experts all similar in style and directives with no avail. My head spins and won’t shut off the memory of you. Morning arrives signaling the need to drag my sleepless self out of bed and start “every day is a new day,” routine.

Is that not what people say? Every day is a new day. Put one foot in front of another. Eventually you will move on and be alright. I shower, brush my teeth, get dressed, fix my hair, etc. the daily morning ritual of getting ready for my day. No. You are still with me.

Arrive at work after a dazing drive ready for more putting one foot in front of the other. I pour some coffee into the paper cup. I take a sip… too weak. I sigh knowing it will be another long day of the mundane and coworkers asking the dreaded, “How are you doing?” I hate the “How are you doing?” or “How ya holdin’ up?” The Hell do you think? I just half smile and respond, “Alright. Every day is a new day.” They mean well however I just want to be left alone. How do you move on if everyone asks you daily how you’re doing reminding you all over again that you are the office water cooler topic at the moment till someone else becomes worthy of talk.

The day will end at some point, and I will be back alone in the dark with you. Why did you do this to me? Why did you leave me all alone to deal with the world. Confusion, sadness, and anger have all circulated through my system like the washing cycle on repeat. Over and over. No relief. When will there be relief? I believe never.

The day was over. Traffic heavy. I arrive home to my small apartment alone. I change into PJs and lay down to TV I really do not watch. I do not eat. No point. Nothing tastes good. I touch my left arm feeling the scares and slight numbness of the skin. The scares I will ware forever. The burn center did what they could for me. The nurses were great.

I close my eyes hoping sleep will take me over and I will dream and dream other than seeing your eyes. I see them everywhere. I see your eyes when I close mine. I see your eyes looking back at me in the mirror. I know you will forever haunt me. You will never let me rest.

You did not let me rest when you were here. A challenging child to say the least. Nonverbal autistic and wild. Being young and pregnant was hard enough when the father was a loser, teenager going nowhere but maybe jail one day, and you came along with difficulties in a cessation delivery by a doctor who made comments about babies having babies, life was to never be the same. My mother would not help having six other daughters to deal with. On my own. We did alright in the rent-controlled apartments. I got my GED and a job as a secretary. You started school. I got phone calls almost daily. Believe when I say I love you.

I met Adam while working at my job. He was a software developer with dreams to start his own company. He had money and lived the lifestyle I wanted. The lifestyle I envied of others while growing up on the mighty welfare dollar. Is this poor west side girl not worthy of the elevated status that a wealthy man could provide? I believe I am. Or was. Alone now in the dark it doesn’t matter anymore. You left me.

We were good together. Laughing, dancing, and great dinners out. Sparkling trinkets you adorned me with are now gone. Lost, just like everything else. I kept a secret from you. A secret I wished did not have to be; however, you expressed early on your wishes. I cannot lie and pretend I was not disappointed knowing if you found out it would be the end of us. The day finally came though when my secret was brought into the light no longer hidden. I could not hide it anymore. Things were moving so fast with us. Whirlwind. You had to be told, but you found out by accident. The office gossip informed you. Naturally you were upset with me hiding my son from you.

The confrontation in the office break room was unnecessary. If you just gave me some time, I would have told you soon. I just needed to know you wanted to keep me before my son caused you to pause. So wrong. You found out, pulled me into the break room, and demanded I fess up. I cried. You couldn’t understand why I lied. “You said you never want kids,” I managed to get out between sobs and sniffles. What a mess I looked.

“I like you and probably would accept your son. I could have dated a mother. What I cannot be with is a liar.”

Not sure I believed you. This is something people say to not look like a jerk. Making me out to be the bad guy saved face for you at the office. Maybe it justified it in your own mind so you can sleep at night. I am sure if you know about my son, my demanding autistic son, you would have never asked me out in the first place.

Handling my son has been a source of men running. Believing Adam would be different once I told him, on my time, it would all work out. In the end, he was no different than even my son’s own father. Pretending to be a man only when its conveniences them which disappears when it does not fit into their schedule.

Alone in the dark, I close my eyes. Remembering the day, I found out I was pregnant. Scared seventeen-year-old. My mother only laughed and said good luck. She was not going to help. She had six other daughters to worry about. The dad was “not ready” and “too young.” Alone. I had my son alone. Doctors and nurses looking at me with that disapproval of another teenage pregnancy. Poor. Welfare. Probably first of many to come. Typical story. They were not kind. My son was born into a room with no love in it. No happy crying. No congratulations mom and dad, it’s a boy. Not just a sterile operating room needing to be delivered cessation, with masked facing being the first thing he saw. No smiles.

I love my son. He was beautiful. He looked like me. We were happy in our little rent-controlled apartment. I was too young and dumb to notice anything wrong. My son was not an easy baby and proved to be a harder toddler. I had no family help. I cried all the time feeling sorry for myself. Feeling angry for my son not being normal. I tired the best I could.

I dated. Not easy being high school dropout and having a disabled son is a turn off for most men. So, when I met you, I decided I would tell you when I knew you wanted me no matter what. How naive of me.

The day you ended us, right there in the break room, I sat alone on my couch in a no more tears left daze feeling hurt and angry. My son playing on the floor with blocks, making noise wanting my attention, and there I sat not wanting to give it to him. Why can he not just stop and be still? Be quiet. I need my space to mourn the lifestyle I will never live. He threw a block striking me on the side of my head. It stung. I snapped.

There you were. Breaking up with me at work. Leaving me to face people with puffy eyes and runny mascara that even attempting to repair in the restroom could not hide it from the watchful glances of noisy female coworkers. You had the luxury of an office with a door. Not me. Nope receptionist desk out in the open where everyone walks by. Asked then too “how are you doing?” I have so much hurt and anger. I deserve a different life. I will have it. No matter what.

You had to go. I did not mean it to happen. Not like I planned it. It happened, you must believe me, by accident. There was just too much pain, frustration, and fatigue. So tired. No help from anyone. No understanding. You must believe I love you terribly. I did what was best for both of us. We both needed to be free. You are free from your prison. Me free from… Society never… The world would have been… I love you. Remember always I love you.

You went limp. I knew it was over. I had to hide what I did. I had to hide you. Fire was the answer. Evidence would be impossible to uncover. No cause of death other than a horrific apartment fire. It took them two days to find your remains… Not much left. I was at the burn center. Skin grafts and all.

Alone in the dark with the ghost of my son. Why couldn’t you just be quiet? Why did you hit me? Why couldn’t you be normal? I miss you every day. It is better though. We are both free. You found your voice in death. I close my eyes. I hear you whisper, “You can see me?”