You Found Me Read online

  “Maybe you're the one going to hell.”

  “Maybe I am! But I'm not about to sit here and listen to you question every little thing I say. If I want to say 'if' then I'm gonna say 'if'. You got that?”

  “No, I don't. Rob, you have no idea what you feel or what you're about to feel. You're just going through the motions praying to God that no one notices you and just leaves you alone.”

  “And what's wrong with that?”

  “Not healthy.”

  “It's doing just fine for me right now.”

  “And later?”

  “What about it?”

  “Rob, later you're going to start suffering more and more. You can't just skip through the bad times so you can hope to see the good times. This is gonna take much longer than two, three or even ten weeks. Rob, this could take your whole life to overcome.” I was quiet. I knew the session was almost over, so I desperately tried to let it come to an end and not say anything else. I think he was okay with that, because he didn't say anything as the clock continued to tick. He was waiting on me to open up, which I had no intention of doing. DING and it was over. We both got up and I grabbed my jacket.

  “I think you did well today, Rob. Maybe there is hope.” I faked smiled him. “I want you to visit your mother's grave before you get back, understand?” I nodded and left. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I didn't want to see her when she was alive, let alone after she'd passed away. I wasn't going to go and that was that.

  I walked to my truck, fumbling with my iPod. I still had my music, I told myself. Nothing could take my music away. I trudged on looking for a song. I was in a terrible mood and needed some sort of pickup. Say by John Mayer. I love the strings that enter at the second verse and continue on from there. Never saw the movie it came from. It's one of those you-have-one-last-chance-to-do-something- amazing-so-do-it kind of movies, the kind you hate and love to watch. Unfortunately, I had yet to see it. It was supposed to be really good, and I'm sure it was.

  I pulled out of the parking lot just as the second verse started. I sang along, belting it as loud as I could. This was my therapy. Dr. O'Nassis gets on my nerves. I just wish sometimes people would leave me alone and let me deal with this myself. I'm doing just fine getting through this.

  Aren't I?

  Sometimes I wonder if I'm getting things done like I should; dealing with pains and all in a way I'm supposed to. I look at my body in the morning and just stare at it, amazed I'm even alive and, more often than not, wishing I wasn't. There are times when I just want it all to go away, but I can't bring myself to do anything about that. I don't want to do anything about that...or did I?

  One thing I was shocked we didn't talk about was my birthday. My birthday is just days away, looming like some due date for a man on death row. After Mom, I didn't want to celebrate my birth. It had nothing to do with her. Of course not. It had to do with me just not wanting to celebrate it.

  Unlike most people, I can get along fine without celebrating the anniversary and reminder that death is just one year closer than it was on the same day the previous year. There's something depressing about that, I know. I don't care if people know when I was born or not, just as long as I know.

  Two days away, I thought. Just two days. In two days I was going to be nineteen years old. Nineteen. It seemed so hard to believe, but there it was, just hours away. Forty-two hours or something like that. I don't really keep track of it like that. Mom did that...

  Harry Chapin was playing at the moment. Cat's in the Cradle.

  Great song, no matter how depressing it is. The Dad finally gets his due for being such a terrible father and role model for his son. As horrible as it is, that's the main reason I like it. The Dad comes to realize at the end that he's ruined what once was a great thing. I've always found things like that intriguing and a constant force behind me wanting to write. Stories about things people try so hard to avoid. Not me, I don't avoid anything. I confront it with everything I-

  No. No, I don't. I hadn't confronted anything involving Mom.

  Wait, that's not true. I'd gone to the funeral; I'd met the people; I'd done exactly what was expected of me. I don't care what anyone says. What more could be asked of me?

  I was on I-565 now. My life had become a boring, routine operation. School, work, home, O'Nassis, home, school, work...you get the idea. I just didn't want to be out and about. I was content going home and coming back. That suited me just fine. There are times you just can't be around people and have to get away from it all. Of course, that was all the time with me.

  My music was blaring now. All Summer Long, by Kid Rock. I'm not a big Kid Rock fan. Never really liked all the profanity, but this song was actually pretty good, if you ask me. The bass vibrated the speaker, making it sound incredible.

  I weaved in and out of traffic just like a crazy Alabamian should, getting honked at several times and I'm sure I was flipped off at least once, but that doesn't surprise me. When you navigate these roads, you just have to do what's necessary.

  I passed Wall Triana, Greenbriar, and Mooresville and merged into I-65 south bound heading for Lewis County. My mind was rather spaced out and my driving more mechanical than anything else. New York, New York by Ryan Adams. I'd never heard of the guy a few months ago, but a friend at work got me interested in him. This one was really good. From what I'd been told the song was released just a short while before 9/11 and the music video was made as a tribute to the city overcoming all the troubles it had just seen.

  I got off at my exit and turned when the light changed. The drive from Huntsville to home was a long one, but I enjoyed it a lot. It was the only time I feel my thoughts were my own, not influenced by anything or anyone around me. I've always felt that people invade my thoughts when I'm around them. I don't really get any time alone. The drive to Huntsville and back really helps me (to some extent, anyway).

  I turned into the driveway and happily found it empty. I couldn't handle anymore unexpected visitors. I just sat there. I didn't want to get up yet, didn't think I could really handle it just yet. I needed a little bit longer to myself. I moved my head back and closed my eyes.

  How did I come to this? How did we come to this? Mom had passed away, but we just couldn't move on. My birthday was hours away, not so much days as hours. I didn't want to celebrate it. I didn't. I had no idea what to tell Dad or anyone else.

  School was going decent, nothing good and nothing bad, just the usual. I had two papers to write and two exams. One paper on Emmanuel Kant and John Mill, the other on Don Quixote. Both wouldn't take that long to write.

  In my opinion, Kant and Mill were idiots, but I had time to write about that. Don Quixote is one of the greatest and important books ever written, and I intended to defend how wonderful it was and its influence on the writings that followed for centuries afterwards. I had an exam in Music Appreciation and one in Political Science. I wasn't bothered too much by MA, though the one in PSC had me worried sick. I remember a whole lot of what we went over but, rather than Music or Philosophy, this was all facts and dates rather than opinion. I prefer opinion, being a very opinionated person and all. I was sure I had them nailed, but was still worried.

  My phone vibrated twice, meaning a text message. I opened my phone and looked at the ID. It was Beth. Beth was a sweet girl, but she had a lot of problems, more than she ever admitted. I felt so sorry for her. Here I am, a parent lost and another fading fast and she was forced to put up with trouble, lack of self-confidence, and uninterested parents. My heart broke every time I talked to her.

  “We need to hang out sometime. Call me, okay?”

  And that was all it said. I didn't respond, just closed my phone and got out. I looked at the house and tried to collect my thoughts. The suffering had gotten worse. I was in pain. Not physical pain, definitely not physical. It was a kind of pain I couldn't describe to someone who'd never experienced like me. It's one of those thing you just...

  Anyway, I unlocked the house, walke
d in and slammed the door. The house rattled then went silent. I was alone and so thankful for it. I didn't want people. I hated people. My mind was moving so much, I couldn't keep up. There was nothing wrong with me, it didn't matter what they said about me.

  I mean, I was trying to move on, wasn't I? I know I was doing it in a much different way than most do, but I was still doing it. It's not that hard, but it sure ain't easy. To me, it's hardest thing in the world. My mother died. I can't forget about that. The point is that I have this strange pain swollen up inside me and I don't know what to do with it. I have to get rid of it somehow, but I don't know of any way to do that except the way I am doing?

  I checked the answering machine. Dad was bringing some BBQ, “so don't bother fixing anything.” This wasn't unusual. We'd started eating out a whole lot lately. It'd nothing to do with Mom. She loved to eat out as much as the next person. And it wasn't that we didn't know how to fix anything, we just didn't feel like it. We were going through some troublesome times. That's what we kept telling ourselves. Troublesome times.

  I deleted the message and sat down in the dining room. I was completely at a loss. I didn't really wanna do anything, but I didn't really wanna sit there and let life pass me by. Maybe I would write something. That sounded like a good idea. I got my laptop out of my room, carried it back into the dining room, and plugged it up. I'm very crazy about having it plugged in. I don't trust that battery no matter what the “time left” bar said.

  It was slow starting at first. I didn't know what to write about. I was going through so much so fast. Maybe a little something about that. Maybe I should finally write down what it was I felt, getting it all out in the open. Yeah, that was a good idea. I had my flashdrive here, so no one could just check out my computer and see what I'd been writing. I plugged my drive in, giving it a moment. I was taking my time. I had no idea what it was I was going to write. Did I even want to write any of this? Yes. Somewhere deep inside of me, that was the answer. I opened a document.

  There I sat. I didn't know what to write first. How I felt or what all was going on? Should I give background info so I can remember why this was written in the first place or just jump into it with everything I had? I knew I had to write something, I just didn't know what. I decided to start simple and work from there.

  April 22nd, 2008

  Life up until now has been hard. Mom died a while back, don't remember all the specifics, but then again it's been awhile. I'm trying really hard to hold myself together but I must be honest and say I'm failing. No, beyond failing.

  I find it hard to go on in life, struggling from day to day just trying to do thing most people can do in their sleep. My mind is so scattered, so I don't know. I don't know what to think of her death. I don't know what to do, to be honest. Life just feels like it is going on without me.

  My heart burns. Not hurt, but burns. I can feel things leaving me without my realizing it. But how can it be doing that? How can so much hurt hurt the way it does?

  I've tried getting rid of the pain, but nothing is helping. Well, what I've tried doesn't work. The more I do, the harder I try, the more everything hurts. Why doesn't anything help me? What is so wrong with me? I don't know. I just don't know. I just don't wanna hurt anymore. I just want her to go. I need to. I will. Yes yes, I will.

  And with that, I stopped. It moved in an awkward way, not really linear or anything like that. More of a stream of consciousness manner, as if I'd done exactly what I did, just sat down and write it. There was a lot of emotion in those few sentences. Probably more than I could ever get out of me.

  I sat there, exhausted from all I'd just poured out of me into this short, simple statement of my soul. I know it didn't seem like much, didn't really make sense, but it was helpful. It made me feel slightly better that I was able to finally get it out. I saved it in my flashdrive and had it password protected. It probably was unnecessary, seeing as the flashdrive was mine and Dad never messed with my stuff, but that didn't matter. I had no idea what may or may not remain the same. I know at one time it would've never crossed his mind to look into my stuff, but that was then. This is now. I was going to keep it in my top dresser drawer. I couldn't take any more chances. Not now, not ever.

  There was a lot of stuff in my top dresser drawer. I had stuff from when we went to New York, which was really fun. I had a few shot glasses, which I'd tried to collect and was now stuck with thirty or forty. It was something I thought would be amazing, but then I started working a lot and never really got back into it. Maybe it was for the better or maybe not.

  There were also condoms. I'd never had sex. I didn't wanna have kids, marriage, relationships, nothing. I enjoyed being alone and looked forward to it, in fact. I didn't have some random chick to answer to 24/7 and could go about my business doing what I wanted. I know it's selfish, but that is sorta the point. No worries, no concerns, nothing.

  I closed the laptop and sat for a second, then carried it and my drive up to my room. I plugged it in and went into the bathroom. I had a new idea in my head, one I'm surprised never came to me before. It wasn't really a good one, one that I should've been avoiding, but just didn't...couldn't. I opened the cabinet and was standing over the sink. My shirt was off, my burned skin on display in the mirror. It was ugly, sickening in a depressing way. Laying on the sink sat my razor; in my hand was the blade.

  I closed my eyes and waited for the pain deep inside me to disappear.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Though it wasn't his first concert, there were no words to express his excitement. Rob had had tickets since the moment they went on sale and The Eagles were his favorite. He'd been planning this for a long time.

  He'd actually gotten the tickets for him and his mother. His Mom loved The Eagles more than Rob did. He was gonna surprise her with it as an early Christmas/really late birthday present sort of thing (her birthday was in February). The tickets were rather expensive, eating two paychecks, but she was worth it. He loved her a lot and wanted to be good to her.

  It was September and the concert was going to be at the Von Braun Center. When he'd gotten the tickets, he'd done everything he could to keep her from finding out. Several things played into his favor, such as the tickets coming when Mom was at work, his bank statements getting to him first so he could hide them, and her radio breaking so she didn't know about the concert until he revealed they were going. He couldn't have planned it any better no matter how hard he tried.

  They were second row, dead center. He was so excited he almost spilled the beans several times, almost once a week, but caught himself when his Dad gave him a look. He made it through the summer, working to avoid his mother and the tickets. He checked them daily, making sure she hadn't seen them and they were still intact.

  The day finally arrived. It was actually a week before, but he wanted to make sure she knew in enough time to do whatever was necessary to go. A week was a good time frame for the two of them. Work had known for a long time and it fell on a Friday night so no worries about school or anything like that.

  She got home around four-thirty with Rob ready and waiting. She came in and was heading to the bathroom.

  “Hello, Robert.”

  “Hey, Mom. How was your day?” She gave an exaggerated and rather humorous sigh.

  “You'd think people would be smart and try to figure things out for themselves. 'How do I find a group in my area?' Hello? By visiting your local ARC and talking to them. People are so...fascinating. You know what is the most...” Her voice became muffled when she closed the bathroom door. Rob was smiling. She was still talking to him even though he couldn't make out a single word she was saying. He wasn't really trying either, which may or may not have been contributing, but he was too excited about what was about to happen to listen. She came out of the bathroom continuing on as if he'd been in there the whole time listening to her.

  “...but what can you do, right? So how was your day?”

  “Well, can't complain.” She rolled
her eyes. This was his usual response. Sometimes it was true and sometimes it wasn't, but no one could ever tell how Rob lived. Rob was always upbeat and perky, excited about graduating from high school and making his way in the world. For the most part, he and his family had avoided the topic, waiting until it came much closer to time, which was fine with him.

  “You always say that,” she laughed. This was a good sign, he thought. She's in a good mood.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he said as best he could, trying not to seem over excited.

  “Oh really? You got detention again?” He rolled his eyes and sarcastically answered “no.” He'd gotten detention only once, and that was in the sixth grade for three 0s in math (his worst subject). Now they expected him to walk in at any time and say he had it again. “That's a relief.”

  “You may wanna sit down.” She looked at him curiously with a sly smile on her face, then sat down.

  “Okay, this is, like, an early Christmas present.” Now she really was curious. She had a strange air about her. Rob pulled the tickets out and slide them across the table. “Ma'am,” he said in a funny pickup line method, “you free this Friday?” She picked up the tickets and almost screamed.

  “How did you get these?!”

  “I've had them for a while. I learned they were coming nearby and decided it would be fun to go.”

  “This is incredible, Robert.” Then her mother instinct showed itself. “How much did these cost?”

  “Don't worry about that,” and waved off the question. “Robert, I'm serious. I want to pay you back. You shouldn't have spent that money on this.”

  “So you wanna pay me back?”

  “Yes.” He leaned back and tapped his chin, mockingly trying to look as if he was deep in thought.