Irretrievable

Chapter 5

It was Friday morning and I was sleepy. I did not understand, in fact, I’m not even sure I was aware of the implications of ‘Friday’, as I drove myself to school that morning. I was in some sort of trance that held onto my mind like a dog does its bone. I couldn’t shake it. I turned up the music, I opened a window to let a crisp morning chill slap me a few times, I slapped myself a few times. I could not think and I had no desire to. I had never felt like that before, and I haven’t felt it again since. I wasn’t even entranced in one of my circular thought processes about nothing. I was nothing. Before I knew it I was in the school parking lot, slipping my backpack around my shoulders, getting ready to start another day at school. I couldn’t remember anything about the drive: the slow-moving traffic down Beach Boulevard, the quick pace of the expressway, the climb over the bridge. What the hell was going on?

I heard a voice say ‘good morning’. I heard it but I did not comprehend it, at first. It was just another sound in my head. But as my eyes told me what had produced the words I understood. Katelyn was speaking to me. We were actually walking side by side. “Good morning”, I repeated. I looked at her with a dumb expression on my face and slowly brought myself out of my mysterious hypnosis. She laughed at me and asked, “Rough night?” “Yeah, sure”, I said. She proceeded to make dumb small talk over the weather, saying it was “so cold” and she didn’t like it. I think I just groaned in response and eventually she stopped talking. I stared up at the sky: the clouds were not puffy. They were thin wisps of white dust stretched out in the sky and I remember wanting to run on them.

“Don’t you want to just run on them?”, I asked to no one.

“What? Run on what?”, invoked a confused Katelyn.

“The clouds. They’re like runways waiting for me to take off from them, and fly to nowhere…”

“What the heck are you talking about?”, she asked sternly.

“Ehh I don’t know, I don’t really know…” I trailed off. I was staring at the sky, paying no attention to her. I stopped walking and just stood with my head tilted at a severe angle, observing the sky. When I finally brought my head back down Katelyn was nowhere to be seen. How long had I been standing there? Oh well. I suppose she got bored like anyone would and proceeded into school. I did the same now. I walked into class and everyone else was already there. Katelyn gave me a funny look. I sat down in my seat and started getting ready for class. My teacher addressed me in her annoying high-pitched voice that always found a way to irritate me. “You need to get a tardy pass. You’re ten minutes late”, she told me. I said, “Oh. I’m sorry”, and stood up to leave. I made the trek all the way from the portables to the main building and back. I did not pay much attention for the rest of class. Other than Ronnie’s incessant singing I retained nothing. Second period came. That was the class I had with Layla. I wanted nothing to do with her for the day. I only wished to skip to the bonfire and be with her then. When I got to class and saw that she had not arrived I felt a great amount of relief. I went straight to my out-of-the-way seat, and stayed there. I did not even to turn to face the class. When class ended I made sure I left when she was not looking, packing up her things or something, and did so in a stealthy manner.

The rest of the day was a blur, and I didn’t care that I was missing it. I was thankful that it was Friday and I had no responsibility for the next day. When I got home I sprawled out on my bed and turned on the TV. Eventually though, I fell asleep in the middle of some sitcom that I was actually enjoying for once.

I woke up feeling much better, much more coherent. I took a quick shower and got dressed for the evening. It would be cold so I wore a few layers along with jeans. I was ready to go to this bonfire and I was excited. I could hardly wait. It would take place at Eric’s house. I knew Eric as an acquaintance, I suppose – well enough to be comfortable going there. I wondered how many people there would be though, who I would know, would not know, wished to see, wished was not there. There was a picture on the refrigerator, and it caught my eye. It was of my father, with my mother. I don’t know where they were, I didn’t recognize the place at all. My mother was in ecstasy, wearing a wide grin on her face as she looked up at my father. But my father, my father had a vague look in his eyes, staring at nothing in front of him. It looked as if he were unaware of the company he was in. It struck me as odd. I’d never seen this photograph before. But I must really be my father’s son because I was a spitting image of him at that age. And somehow, somehow my mom looked, distantly, like Layla with her golden hair and comforting expression. I was intrigued by the picture and I stared at it, as if I were expecting something to happen. I studied it for a while to the point where I was frustrated that I couldn't name the place, or even recognizing the picture at all. Oh well, I wanted to leave for the bonfire, and I wasn’t about to get preoccupied. So I left the kitchen and proceeded outside.

I hopped in the car and was on my way, happy, and nervous, as ever. For some reason I was not in one of my concentrated realms of thought, so I put on some music, The Doors of course. It seemed nothing could ruin this night; it would be absolutely wonderful. The CD transitioned to the song ‘Love Her Madly’. Jim Morrison asked in a deep, intent voice, “Don’t yah love her madly? Don’t yah need her badly?” Yes. Yes I do, I thought. And I laughed. I sure as hell wanted her. Soon enough, my head lights drew back the darkness from Eric’s driveway. I sat for a few minutes reassuring myself I wanted to do this and that it would be fun. There were lights flickering from the backyard. The glow danced drunkenly on the wall of the neighbor’s house and a deep bass line rattled my insides as I sat in my own silence. Finally I mustered up the meek confidence to walk back there. As I unbuckled my seat belt the song was still playing. All your love, all your love is gone, so sing a lonely song. I twisted the keys out of the ignition and walked briskly towards the backyard. I stepped through the gate and saw a fire blazing wildly high in the center of the grass. It seemed to be wavering back and forth, as if pointing at me then directing its finger elsewhere, then back at me again. It made me oddly self-conscious. And there was no one there. I did not see Eric or anyone else. I was really quite confused and I began feeling that eerie doubt like I had at school the other day. This time it was worse, and it directed me. It compelled my legs to turn the corner to the patio of the house - for what I did not know. And when I did, I-I died. Standing there in the arms of someone I did not know, was Layla, sharing a kiss with that unknown kid. My heart sank like stone to somewhere within me I did not know existed. I was frozen with dread, telling myself that what I was witnessing was only a trick being played by that wicked fire. But when Layla opened her eyes and glanced at me, and only kissed him more, I knew it was no trick.

I turned and walked painfully toward the gate again. Each step was like a strike to my chest, and it was getting harder to breathe. I stumbled over to my car door, having trouble gripping the handle. I could barely find the strength to pull it the two necessary inches to open the door. When I finally did, I started the car, not knowing what else to do. “Don’t yah love her madly?” Fuck you, Jim. I sat in utter shock, contemplating what had just happened. Did she actually look at me? Did she mean to? What if she didn’t want to kiss him? What if I had just showed up at the absolute wrong second? But then why wouldn’t she be running out here now to explain? What was happening? ‘No’ was the only thought running through my head, the only thing I could come up with. No. No. No….

Chapter 6

I awoke in a heavy sweat, panting as if I’d just been running. I sat up quickly, eyes wide, my hands searching for anything to grasp. My shirt was stuck to my back as I began calming down, understanding that it had only been a dream. A great rush of relief swept over me, alleviating the painful weight on my chest. I threw myself back down on the bed in a grateful respite. I covered my face with my hands, dislodging a few curls stuck with sweat to my forehead. The dream had felt so real, so indistinguishably similar to reality. It was the worst experience I never had. I felt physically disgusted and emotionally spent. What the hell was that dream supposed to mean? It was some subconscious fear illuminated in an all too real nightmare. I did my best to shrug it off, running through a list of reasons that wouldn’t happen. And I think that was the beginning, despite its subtlety, of my understanding that something was not right, not quite normal. Attempting to logically justify an emotionally irrational thing is never good, and never satisfying. Of course I overlooked that then, and shrugged it off without much consideration, although I did take notice. I jumped in the shower to wake myself up and get ready for the night.

I felt better afterwards, but not quite the same as in the dream. That gave me a bit more confidence. It was nearing the time to leave, and I really had nothing left to do at home. As I walked through the kitchen to get out the door, I remembered the dream. I glanced over at the refrigerator to catch a glance of that haunting picture. It was not there. I searched the entire face of the fridge door, but found nothing. Interesting that I would create such a significant image on my own; I suppose I really was sort of enamored with Layla. Again, I was happy that reality was different than my dream, that there was no such picture that could have possibly confirmed my subconscious projections. I left, satisfied with myself, and comfortable with the hours to come.

The drive over was an apprehensive one, however. I was nervous, but who wouldn’t be. The night was alive and I was aware. A slight sheen of light dancing about a water-slickened road slithered along the road next to my window as I proceeded to Eric’s house. It would bend and hop with the imperfections of the road, seeming as if it were happily traveling with me. I found it somewhat amusing. Then, as I reached to turn on the music in my car, I remembered the dream again. I hesitated, fearing that it would parallel what had happened in my mind’s little scene. I did not push the button, and drove in only the noise of the engine’s constant hum. I was being superstitious, stupidly careful. I knew it would make no difference if the CD was in fact The Doors, or even if I listened to the same song, that what happened in my dream could not possibly be replicated in a sequence of actual events. But, I was being careful because I had convinced myself it meant something out of a foolish concern for what might happen if I wasn’t.

I arrived at Eric’s house shortly. It was completely different than in my dream. The house was larger, wider, more decorated and intricate. Why hadn’t I realized that in the dream? There was no backyard visible from the front, no fence through which to enter, and cars littered the street, lined on either side narrowing the space though which one could drive. A beckoning glow shone from inside the windows, creating a soft, rounded luminescence contrasting the commotion going on behind it. I added my car to the line, and began walking toward the house. The night air was cool, but not uncomfortable, just enough so that a small cloud of air would form in front of your face if you took a big enough breath. As I approached the driveway, Eric stepped out the door, looking for something in the garage. He saw me and seemed excited.

“Hey man! Glad you could make it.”, he said.

“Yeah, I’m happy to be here”, I said back. I don’t really think I meant that. He was rummaging around in a cooler, picking out drinks. I assumed they were alcoholic but I didn’t pay close enough attention to know, and didn’t need to. He told me he’d take me out back where everyone was in just a second. I waited for him to gather everything he needed and then followed him in a winding path through the house out to the backyard. We entered a screened off patio where a long table with various foods was set up and Eric deposited the drinks he had in another cooler at the end of the table. He asked me if I wanted one of the cans, and I declined, speculating what it was. He opened the screen door and motioned for me to walk through it. I did. And it was as if I had entered a different night than the one I was in out front. It was different, somehow, the lighting, the feel of the air, the soft static of idle chatter. Eric veered off to the right to talk to some people I didn’t know, so I looked for someone I was familiar with. I saw Phil and Jack and a few other people I knew standing closer to the fire. And the fire. It was calm, controlled, burning peacefully in a pit a little lower than the ground, crackling and wavering in a gentle sway. It was inviting and entrancing, not wicked like that of my dream. I felt its soft heat even from a distance as I approached the group in front of me. They appeared as vague silhouettes, as the fire’s light peered out from behind them, masking any detail of their faces or clothing. But as I moved closer they all came into detail and all had a loose smile on their face paired with that bitter breath that clued me in as to what filled their cups.

“Hey dude, what’s up?” Jack asked me. I answered casually telling him nothing at all. The others said their hellos, and I returned them. I sort of melded myself into the group without drawing much attention, just listening to what was being said. They were discussing something that happened at school, some garbage that didn’t mean anything. I just stood quietly, observing the rest of the yard. I scanned the others, looking for Layla. I soon concluded she had not arrived yet, which was preferable. I would see her soon enough. I grew bored with the people I was with; their discussion had become even duller. I silently left the circle, shuffling closer to the fire. There was an arch of chairs around the reddish-orange center. I observed the people sitting in them. It really is revealing to observe people when they’re not aware of you. They’re real that way. There’s no barrier between their true self and your raw perception. It’s humanity understood in its simplest form.

I searched for someone I knew to take a seat next to but found no one. I thought about sitting in one of the empty chairs but when I came closer I saw a sweater had been lazily draped over its side. I remained standing, especially after realizing the next three chairs were filled by girls. They would have undoubtedly engaged me in some awkward conversation about something insignificant and ultimately aggravating. I ventured away from the fire, back towards the house. I was becoming uncomfortable. I felt as if I were out of place, yet no one really noticed. I don’t know whether it bothered me more that I didn’t know so many people, or that no one had really taken into account my being there. Attending was a mistake. I didn’t belong at things like that, I had no interest in them and they were in most respects stupid. Layla wasn’t there and she was the reason I went. Again, how stupid of me. I decided I had to busy myself just for the sake of not looking like a complete idiot. I trudged back up to the patio where the table was and collected an unnecessary plate of food to look occupied. I wasn’t hungry at all.

I started at the left end of the table, as if I were following a premeditated set of instructions, and slowly made my way down the rest. I grabbed something from literally every bowl and dish containing food. It was so mindlessly done. Chips, cookies, all kinds of crap, even some truly frightening dip that someone probably made them self, found their way onto my plate. It just made me feel even more awkward, standing there with a full plate I did not intend to eat. A girl I didn’t know walked into the patio. She eyed me but said nothing. She was curious – just kind of floating about there, not speaking, just watching. I stared back, perplexed as ever. She stumbled around to the opposite side of the table from where I stood as she shifted her eyes continuously from me to the table and back at me. I figured she was judging me somehow, but did not react to her strange behavior.

“My name’s Rose”, she said. Okay, so what? I didn’t say anything, just kept walking. “I didn’t come in here for food, you know.” Her breath seeped across the room in a wave of the terrible stench of stale beer. This would be funny.

“No?” I replied, “Then to get warm?”

“Nope” she said in a goofy, playful voice. She put on, or attempted to put on, a seductive look with a less than innocent smile spreading across her face. She bit her lip as if to tease me, but I saw her ease the force. She probably hurt herself. I knew exactly what she was doing and I was having none of it. I was waiting for Layla and there would be no distractions, especially not some drunken girl who had no idea what she was doing.

“Well, shit, what’d you come in here for?” I asked. I didn’t wait for an answer and walked back outside without the plate I had gathered. Where was Layla? I was getting frustrated, regretting my decision to come more and more as each minute passed. I could feel a light sweat beginning to break the seal of my skin as I stood, scanning the yard over and over again finding the same empty results. Everything felt wrong, as if I were watching the night from behind a pane of glass laced with a gentle fog. I was beginning to think I should leave. What was the point of being uncomfortable and alone even amongst a yard full of people? It was stupid and I was done with it.

Yet, something compelled me to stay just a bit longer. I persisted through my discomfort, in the anxious hope she would arrive. I paced around the yard a bit, stepping in briefly on various conversations, yet never really involving myself in one. After a nervous five minutes or so my wishes were granted, my anxiety transformed to a pure appreciation. I had made my way back towards the house and as I turned around once again in my desultory gait, I finally saw her. She was standing in front of the fire, in a group of people, beautiful as ever. Never was I struck so tremendously by her mere image as I was at that moment. My blood quit rushing around inside my veins in its furious frenzy and it slowed to a calm, peaceful, absolutely comfortable flow. The breath in my lungs vacated at once and I just stood. She was immaculate, and she was everything I expected. She smiled and laughed at something someone else said and she was perfect. Yes. This is what I came for. She is my purpose, I thought to myself. And I was glad I came. In an instant all regret was wiped clean; all anxiety was replaced by utter content. Layla was there. I remained standing there, just looking at her. She caught my gaze and I knew she saw me. I didn’t do anything. I just waited. She seemed to be parting from the circle she was in. I hoped she was doing so to come talk with me - after all she was my purpose for being there. And to my great delight she began heading in my direction. Her eyes were on the ground in front of her but she looked up at me and showed a slight smile. I only smiled wider.

The fire illuminated her essence as she proceeded towards me. The image was literally straight out of some sort of movie or sequence of events thought up by a screenwriter. I was awestruck. There was nothing to say. The orange glow caressed the outline of her body and seemed to make her emanate a glow of her own. Everything I expected and more, or so I thought. She approached me in her flawlessness and at that point I was happier than I’d ever been. She was there, and for me, and I for her. It’s what I wanted. But I would learn that it wouldn’t last.

As we said our hellos and engaged in the actions of greeting I sensed something was different. Something was not right. It was her. She was acting very odd, like she was drunk and in a state of happiness that would be broken by nothing.

“You’re here! Yay! This is wonderful.” Here sentences were fused together in a lazy train of thought. “Oooh I like your shirt. It’s so,“ she paused for a second as if looking for a clever way to describe it, “green.” Green. My shirt was green. Wonderful. I didn’t quite know how to respond to that. I suppose I thanked her, awkwardly. As we walked on towards the group she was just in, she seemed to stumble slightly as she went. It was not a natural stumble, it was forced. I asked her if she were alright, and she replied with, “Of course I’m alright! I feel incredibly…” she was searching for a word. It seemed as though she forgot and ended her sentence with a clarified smile and a cheerful nod. She must have been drunk. What else could explain that?

But her breath carried no odor, and if it had I would have noticed. Her drink was a bubbly black, not the golden brown of beer. She was not drunk. Yet she danced about to no music, and exaggerated the length of her words for no reason. I couldn’t really understand why she was doing it, why she was pretending to be something, something else. My bliss was slowly departing, oozing out of me like the way spilled water crawls about the ground so painfully slow, and like air replaces the water’s occupation, my bliss was being replaced with a newer emotion, or lack of emotion, rather, that was in a way more comforting. I was still happy to be with her, in her presence, even just talking with her. But she had completely changed who she was at that bonfire. I don’t know whether it was in some unnecessary scheme to impress me or what her reasoning was but I was slowly entering a deeper realization that most things were absurd. I had been trying to connect with Layla, I wanted to, more than anything going on at the time. She really was a special girl, one that I admired more than the rest.

But this night, this night that was supposed to be of absolute content and what I hoped to be the foundation of something great, shattered everything I had planned for it. It was disheartening yet revealing, disappointing yet very necessary. Layla was no longer my focus. She was no longer the subject on which I dwelled, she was just another girl. Why had she acted that way? Why had she feigned herself? It angered me and it was heartbreaking. Just when I thought I’d found someone who stood out from the rest, someone resilient and individualistic, she took it away. She too had acted differently from what she was only to be accepted. All it got her was my rejection.