A New Year's Why

Adam sat in the room which would be claustrophobic for anyone larger than a small child. His head cradled by cold bars as he stared into nothing. The room was dark but not dark enough to keep Adam from staring into bitter darkness. From the perspective of an outsider he seemed paralyzed without thought, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

 The year had come and gone, and it was eventful, it was something. Yet he wasn’t thinking about the past year, he reflected on the last three. He still had difficulty understanding how he ended up in this tiny room at 11:37 with these people who were seemingly strangers. How? But more important why? The end of each answer to this question was simply met with another question. Why? He followed this rabbit hole, like a dog chasing its tail as darkness slowly crept in on him as the moonlight waned.

*****

He knew she was gone, and he knew he shouldn’t be thinking of her, but he couldn’t help himself. It was for the best yet he still doubted it as the memory of who she was and what she was, what she had to offer, what she made him do and most of all how she made him feel and how she felt floated around in his head.

           Her glassy porcelain skin that almost glimmered back at him whenever he held her. He loved how he could hold her. She felt like a feather, soft and light which juxtaposed her ambitious and punchy spirit. She seemed fragile yet was enduring and had the capability to bring out what he thought his best was.

Her long black and smooth hair which fell slowly and steadily like hot tar pouring into discrepancies on pavement, graceful as it fell into her thin shoulder. But once again, it was no testament to who she was. He remembers seeing her face after understanding what she could do to him and others. One moment making him feel the euphoric high of love and lust like ocean washing over distressed and broken sand to reveal a new sleek layer which could lay unbothered until it was again. Other times he wrenched and puked while she sat there with a blank metallic stare. Yet he would always relent. These fights and fallouts between the two would always have the same ending. She would ask and ask him to return, each asks seeming for demanding than the last. People would ask him why he stays with something so awful, a monster they would call her, a thief of joy and life and peace they would call her. To which he would respond with the same, bleak, hopeless response. Why not?

           He couldn’t stay away, and he didn’t want to stay away. He needed her, and he wanted to need her because even if he hated her, the necessity of her in his life remained constant, so he thought.

           At this point she would dance over, grabbing his arm and brushing his muscular veins like a painter on canvas. Her shiny nails would grab him and yank him in every which way. From daring thing to uncomfortable thing, all of which scared him; yet her antics made him feel so alive. And that is why he loved her so. That is why he needed and wanted her in his presence, with him in any capacity.

           The more he thought about her the more he missed her. The more he thought the more he wanted her; the more he craved her. He felt himself almost fading into a fantasy of seeing her one last time and that’s all he needed and then he would be done forever. He jostled around ideas of just finding her for one last time to experience her and feel everything she made him feel.

           As his fantasy continued, the memories of his last night with her flooded back to him in lustful waves. It was in his old apartment. In his bed which was pushed up against the slate-colored walls he painted himself. He was sitting, wrapped in his white sheets after a particularly bad fight between them. This time he swore he was done, he knew why, he found his anchor, his rock-bottom where he would build his new life, a life he could be proud of. His why was clear until he heard his intercom ring. Her words dripped and poured, filling his ears with wishful thoughts and empty promises. Their fights were always resolved when Adam submitted and accepted this was all he had, his everything, after all, how could he ever find someone to replace something so powerful. She eventually would convince him to let her in and in that moment, in that last interaction he would encounter the worst of it. Usually, the feelings of nostalgia bring on the lovely and pseudo-beautiful euphoric rush would linger with him for a time. This time it didn’t. This time her mere presence brought him to his knees as he opened the door to her. She stepped into the ill-lit grayscale apartment and stared at him. Adam rolled and seized on the dark wooded floor of his apartment as he belched and shouted.

*****

           Adams head shuttered awake as his screams rattled and echoed through his head, as he slowly brought his head up from the bars which his head once rested. When he stood up he looked into the little wood crib. He gazed into his toddlers’ smooth eyelids which hadn’t even accumulated a wrinkle yet and her skin was soft and delicate. The little girl’s hair had barely grown in, yet it was deep and blonde.

           Tears slid down his bowed head and then faded into his pink wrinkled skin as he muffled his whimpers in his elbow. Once he is calm enough to hold his child, he does. Looking onto her kindness and buildup of potential. The beauty of a blank, unetched stone which lies with every opportunity in front of her.

And that was why. Why he gets up in the morning, why he goes to work to do something that doesn’t excite him, why he gets up to a crying baby three times a night but most importantly, why he will never pick up that needle again.

As he arrived at the end of his ruminations, Adam touched the child’s forehead to his lips. Just in time for midnight.