Old Year's Helm

As I sit here, nursing the same drink I made for myself two hours ago, I look at the watch on my wrist. 11:27 P.M. it blinks back at me, confirming what I already know. "I'm never going to get this done." I say, not to anyone in particular. I stand up and walk to the window. As I open it, the cold air stings my face. I look out over the street below me and can't help but feel a sickness in my stomach. It's always like this. I can feel it coming as its happened so many times before. As I hear the screams from behind and below me, the cold air begins to numb my body as I fall, sailing through the air. With a deafening crunch, I hear as I hit the pavement below and snap upright in my bed. Drenched in sweat, I take in my surroundings. Everyday something is different than the last. Sometimes its a picture on the wall, sometimes its the watch on the bedside table. Sometimes its the person lying next to me in bed. One time, I looked outside and the sky was purple instead of blue. Today, however, a nice blue sky is visible through the window. No one is lying next to me in bed, though the covers are messed up like someone has already left the bed. That must be it. Yesterday... well, as "yesterday"-ish as I get. Yesterday I woke up and looked over to see a figure lying next to me facing away from me. They must have worked earlier than I do today. A few things stay the same no matter what changes. At 3:00 P.M. on the dot, my phone always rings. It's always my boss calling to say that there was a mix up at the office, asking if I can come in even though it's my day off. A few times I tried to ignore him. A few times I tried to say I was sick. Once, I even tried telling him the truth and what has been happening to me. That was not a fun ride to the mental facility. Looking at my watch, I see the time switch to 2:55 P.M. With a sigh, I begin to get dressed, answering my phone almost as soon as it rings and simply saying," I'll be there in ten minutes," before hanging up. As I finish getting dressed, I throw another pair of pants in my backpack and I set out to work. It's only a ten minute walk to work from my house. I pass the second stop sign on my way to the office and look over just as I see the same car I see speeding down the street every morning. Just as always, I watch as he slows down at the stop sign and throws a coffee out his window, too oblivious to realize that I'm standing right there. As it rains onto my pants, I'm thankful that it is iced coffee today. I hear someone laugh beside me as they begin to keep walking. Almost as a second nature, I reach out and grab their arm, pulling them back just as another car runs the stop sign and barrels through where he would have been walking. Their wide eyes and ragged breathing make me chuckle a bit as I continue walking to work. I walk through the front door of the building and immediately duck into the bathroom, changing my pants and wiping the drops of coffee from my tie. I get to my cubicle and see a note on my desk.

Ben,

Thanks for coming in, I really need these reports done by tomorrow morning. Feel free to stay as long as you need to.

Thanks again,

Sam

Hmmm, wait a minute, somethings not right. one of the things that always happens is that Sam always comes and talks to me when I get here. Always saying the same thing, but always in person. As I flip the piece of paper over, I see something else that alarms me. I see a note written on the back, but its not written in pen, pencil, or anything I've ever seen. The writing is visible, but I can't place the color. Its as if it was written on the piece of paper with water, visible to me, but I get the feeling as if no one else could read it. All the second note has written on it is a string of numbers. No, it's binary code. As I turn to my desk, I am startled to see Sam standing in front of me. "Oh, hey boss. I came as soon as I could." I say, putting the note in my pocket. Word for word, he says the same thing he always says. As he walks away, I pull the note out of my pocket. Turning it over, I see the coding again. Sitting down at my computer, I pull up google and find a binary code translator. Beginning to enter the code, I see my screen flicker. Ignoring it, I put in the code.

00100000 01110101 00100000  00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01100001 00100000 01101111 01101101 01100001 00101110 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101101 01100101  01100010 01100011 01101011 01110010 01100011 01100001

But there's something wrong. I push enter, and read the words, but they don't make sense. Maybe I'm just wasting time. I know what happens. I've been through this day after day. Mad at myself, close google and stand up, walking to the window. Making the same call I make everyday, "Hey babe. There's an emergency at the office. Unfortunately I don't think I'll be able to make it home tonight in time for the New Year's party. I'll call you as soon as I get off work. I love you Sarah." Looking out the window, I feel the same queasy feeling in my stomach before I turn back to the cubicle. Sitting down, I begin working on the reports that I know I won't complete, for a job I hate, for a life that I feel is spinning out of control. Maybe tonight will be different. Maybe if I work harder I'll get through the report. Maybe tonight I will finally be able to see the new year in. Maybe...

"Sarah, I know this is hard to hear, but we have tried everything we can." The doctor seems more annoyed than upset. I know that we have been at this for almost a year now, but I can't let him go. "Please. Just give it more time. Maybe the message got through and it will just take some time. Please." I say, feeling tears forming in my eyes. The doctor's eyes soften a bit and look at the patient lying in the hospital bed. The code flashing across the screen of the laptop that is hooked up to the patients frontal lobe. The rhythmic beeping of the heart rate monitor. Hard to believe that a year ago he had been operating on this very patient after he attempted to end it all. "Listen, we will keep the laptop hooked up a couple more hours. If nothing changes, we will have to discuss the options." He finally says, before turning and walking out of the room. As Sarah sits there, she looks at her watch and smiles. Reaching over, she grabs Ben's hand. "Ben... baby, it's 11:59. Please come back to me. It'll be better. I promise. I love you so much."

As the tears begin to fall and the clock turns to 12:00, Ben finishes his report.