You Found Me Read online

  “So how are you two doing?” Dad asked.

  “Doin' good,” Carl said.

  “We were anyway,” Berta said, “until that stupid leak.”

  “Oh yeah. We have this terrible leak somewhere on our roof. I've tried to find it a dozen times but haven't had any luck.”

  “Where's it leaking inside?”

  “That's the problem. It's leakin' all over the place. I've been over that roof with a fine toothed comb and still ain't found nothin'.”

  “Sounds like it could be the whole roof,” Dad said.

  “Could be, but I'd think you could find a leak like that.”

  “Ah, you'd be surprised. Sometimes you can and sometimes you can't.”

  “I just wish I could find it.” With the way Carl spoke, every word seemed to mesh into the next, forming one long many-syllabled word.

  As they talked, my attention began to wander before landing on the razors in my bathroom cabinet. They were calling to me, telling me I needed to come upstairs and pay them a visit. “We can make you feel better” they called to me. “We can make you feel better.”

  “What do you think, Rob?” My attention snapped back.

  “Huh?” I said in a frantic. Carl laughed. “You off in la-la land?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You think it's gonna be a bad drought this year?”

  “Naw,” I said. “I doubt it. Last year was bad enough so this year can't be too bad.”

  “I dunno,” Berta said. “They're saying this one could be one of the worst ever.” Berta was the kind of person who just had to say something that contradicted what someone else said, whether deep down she agreed or not.

  “That's a good point,” Dad said. I already knew it was.

  The drought of 2007 left the South struggling. There had been few hurricanes which was a primary way places like Alabama got its rainfall. Because of that, there was a harsh no-burn ordinance still enforced in some areas. They were worried that one small fire could take out entire fields. I found it hard to believe this year could be worse than last year.

  “Well hopefully he's right. I know alotta the farmers are worried things will turn sour again.”

  “Carl, you know how farmers are,” Berta said. “They think every crop is going to turn sour. Just how they are.”

  “True, true,” he said. I've noticed Carl seemed to bow to whatever it was Berta said. To be honest, it made me sick to watch. I really didn't like it. Then again, I didn't like them in the first place. They would come here, interrupting our lives and leave, only to return sometime later and the circle begin again.

  “Can I go to my room?”

  “Why?” Dad asked. “Not having fun?” No was my first thought. I decided it wasn't worth it. I knew it would help get rid of the wonderful guest we had, but when they left I would be stuck here with Dad and his wrath.

  “Just tired is all.”

  “That's fine,” he said, and let me go.

  “Later guys,” I said halfheartedly and walked upstairs. They said the generic goodbyes and continued talking. I know they talked about me, and it wasn't because I was vain or anything like that. It was just how things are.

  The floor creaked as I walked to my room. The off-white carpet made a slight scuff as I dragged my shoes over it. I was too lazy to pick them up and actually walk. I didn't see the point in wasting the energy. None of it matter anyway. We're all gonna die sometimes so why should I worry about picking my feet up when I walked or whether I just shuffled along in life. I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling.

  What was wrong with me? I was suffering from something and couldn't figure out what. Did I really miss Mom? No. No I couldn't have missed her. She was just another person out there, just like all the others. No, she was worse. She didn't love me, I don't care what she said. If she'd loved me, things would be different. She wouldn't be dead. She'd be alive, downstairs talking with Dad about the latest thing I'd done wrong. It would be something stupid, like parking in the wrong spot or forgetting to give them my schedule of events for next week.

  I checked my phone and found several text messages asking me how I was doing. I deleted them. There was just too much going on right now to answer them. My head hurt. My heart hurt. There was too much pain to think clearly.

  I closed my eyes and prayed for deliverance.

  Chapter Twelve

  The dream shocked Rob awake. He'd never experienced anything like it before. It'd been so vivid. So real. He laid in his bed in a cold sweat. The room spun. Wide and red, his eyes wanted to close, but they couldn't. Instead, they followed the circles the room made and tried to make it stop. His brain ran at a million miles an hour, trying to sort through everything that'd just happened.

  It had been a dream, but he still couldn't bring himself to believe it. Whatever it was had been so real he couldn't concentrate. His sheets were so wet he was worried he'd peed in them. His whole body was soaked, as if he'd been playing outside for a long time without taking a break to rest. That's what it was, he said to himself. Sweat. He was sweating.

  “...Mom...” the word came. Barely audible, but enough to give him comfort. He needed Mom. The room had stopped spinning and he was getting his bearings. What happened?

  “Mom,” he said a little louder, this time with more confidence behind it. He could feel the tears starting to form. He was afraid of something, but couldn't figure out what it was.

  “Mom!” he said, much louder than before. He wasn't shouting just yet, but he was getting closer to it, waiting until he was absolutely sure he needed to.

  The door slowly opened and there she was. She was in her night gown, so he knew she'd been asleep. Her eyes tried to focus, squinted in the way they always were when she woke up in the morning. Rob felt bad that he'd woke her up, but at the same time he didn't want her to go back to sleep. He needed her right now. They could get some sleep later, maybe.

  “What wrong?” she said softly. He could barely make out what she'd said, but somehow he knew the question.

  “I had a bad dream.” Her eyes comforted him. He was worried she would be mad that he woke her up over something like a dream, but she wasn't. She came and sat on his bed. His bed had the red Power Ranger on it in some random Karate move Rob didn't know. The ranger was making a kicking motion. Rob had them all twisted up and mangled.

  This wasn't unusual. This was how he slept at nights. He would make his bed before he got in it, then tear it to pieces over the course of the night. His parents were baffled by it. He'd get up the next morning, gather the sheets and covers back together, then do the same thing that night. They'd considered a sleep study for him, but opted out of it when the doctor said it was just one of many sleep behaviors that was “perfectly natural in growing boys. He'll grow out of it in no time.” She pulled her little boy close and hugged him.

  “I'm sorry,” she said. “Are you okay?” He was crying now, sniffling and trying to speak at the same time. He didn't know where the tears had come from, but he could feel them streaming down his face.

  “It was scary” was all he could say.

  “I know, honey, but we need to talk about it, okay?” He just sat there, unfazed by what she'd said. He was still crying and wanted to stop. The air penetrated his pajamas and made him cold. She held him close and gave him time.

  She was good at this. She knew it took Robert longer to talk about things than it did most boys. He was rather shy and had trouble using words. He knew what he wanted to say, but had trouble when it actually came to saying it.

  “I was falling,” he began. It was slow going at first, but he built up. “I don't really know where I was or how I started falling, I just was. I kept screaming for help and begging them to stop.”

  “Begging who to stop?”

  “I don't know, just them. Someone was after me. They were faceless. They were after me, Mommy.”

  “Shh. It's okay. They didn't get you.”

  “But they did. They grabbed m
e and pulled me. I was falling and didn't know what to do. I called and called but no one came to me. I was alone.” The tears poured now. She held him, letting him get it out of his system.

  Robert was a very emotional kid. Little things would bother him and make him sad. They worried about him not having the ability to stand up for himself and being bullied around, but they were reassured by the same doctor he would “grow out of it.” This was their first child and every little thing bothered them. He started pulling himself together.

  “You okay?” He nodded. She wiped his tears away with her thumbs. For a reason he couldn't understand, this made him feel better. He'd cried many times before, over different things. Some sad movie he'd seen on TV. An animal laying on the side of the road that had been hit by a car. Getting a paper cut.

  When he seemed better, she stood and walked to his closet. She reached into the top and pulled out some more sheets and a blanket. These had the Green Ranger on them, his second favorite. She set them on his dresser next to a towel they always kept in there for emergencies and searched for some pajamas. He slowly got out of the bed and walked over to the dresser.

  “You need to change,” she said as she handed him some new pajamas. She walked over to his bed and stripped to gross, mangled sheets. They were sticky and smelled terrible. He had wet it, but most of it was sweat. The sheets took a little work to get off the bed, but she did it.

  Rob changed into the new outfit and threw the others into the pile with the sheets. He was still shivering, his skin moist and rather clammy from all the action that night. He'd used the towel as best he could to get himself cleaned a little. His mother finished putting the new sheets on and smiled.

  “Okay,” she said. “Good as new.” He smiled at her and gave her a big hug and kiss.

  “Thank you.”

  “You're welcome.”

  “I love you,” he said. She smiled and kissed his sweaty forehead.

  “I love you too.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I woke up to my cellphone alarm and quickly turned it off. Today was work, not school. I didn't wanna go to work and deal with people again, but I knew it was necessary. People always get in the way of things, but that was something I've said and said until it went without saying.

  Once again, I was dreamless. I just floated through the dark until I woke up. I'd woke up at least once in the middle of the night and gone to the bathroom. The cousins were gone and Dad was downstairs sleeping. He wasn't sleeping in his/their room nearly as much as he used to. I think it brought him pain and was a cold reminder.

  I stripped in the bathroom and stared at my body. I was naked from head to toe. My back was raw. I didn't see any infections or signs of anything starting, which was good, but the rawness was still there.

  I consider myself an attractive person. I wouldn't date me, but I wouldn't write myself off as disgusting and go about my business. I fit right in the little circle you'd see just sitting around wishing for a girl even though we had the capabilities of getting one. My beard was thicker than I wanted. My hair was getting longer, since I hadn't cut it in so long. I thought about asking Dad to cut it, but that was asking for trouble. Maybe I'd get an appointment and do it sometime.

  As I stared, I made a split second decision. I was gonna shave my beard. I'd had it for a long time, it was Mom's idea to grow, and I needed to move on. I figured it wouldn't help, but tried it anyway.

  I ran the scalding hot water and let the sink fill up. The shaving cream was in my little medicine cabinet above the toilet. Most of my stuff is there, such as contacts, solution, razor, etc. There were a few generic medicines, such as Tylenol and cough syrup, but no aspirin.

  When I was little, I skinned my knee on the playground. I went to the nurse's office and was given some aspirin. My breath became shallow and my skin burned. The nurse realized what was happening and rushed me to the ER. Thus, from that day on, I have safely avoided using the pain reliever. A few times I used it by accident, which mostly consisted of people telling me it had none and end up being wrong, but nothing dangerous. I've managed to make it this far.

  I got my razor and cream down and walked back to the sink. It was filled almost to the top, which is what I like. There's a little drain about an inch from the top that keeps the water from overflowing. It's amazing how such small inventions (such as an extra hole in a sink) are taken for granted and simply ignored. Imagine if a lot of things didn't exist and how life would be.

  I turned the water off and rubbed the water on my face. It burned, oh how it burned. It was wonderful. I slowly felt the scalding water penetrate me and my tender, stubbled face. Oh the pleasure. I was in a state of ecstasy.

  All at once the pain drifted in and out of me. I was angry and satisfied, feeling things I'd tried to forget. I was angry with her. Why did she do this to me? We used to be so close. So close. Now I can't even think about her without my fist clenching, my throat getting scratchy and my eyes hurting. She'd messed me up worse than I ever thought possible. I was a nervous wreck, going from one thing to the next in life just begging for the ability to let go of all that held me back, but unable to see it. It was there, I know that. I could barely get up in the mornings because I knew I would find it...or it would find me.

  I applied the shaving cream to my face and watched as my beard slowly disappeared beneath a layer of white cream. The lather was smooth and such a sharp contrast from the burning water originally on my face. It was a lot like whipped cream on a hot chocolate. It cools it enough to make it drinkable, but not so much that it ruins the drink.

  I reached for my razor and began to shave. The razor scraped across my skin, removing my hair. Slowly, my bare skin appeared in the mirror, as if it had been hidden before and was finally appearing to see the light of day for the first time. I continued shaving, careful to get all the hair.

  Shaving is a tedious job. You must be sure that you get all the hair you want to get or it will look like you were a yard cut by a blind lawn-care worker. When you're done, you wipe your face with a rag. Some use aftershave, but that is something I've always avoided. For some reason, the aftershave felt different than I expected. I know it was supposed to burn or something like that, but it didn't for me.

  I stared at my face in the mirror and just looked. I was still naked, my body aching from the night before. I pulled the plug on the sink and let it drain. I looked at my razor as the sink gurgled. Gillette Quattro. The aloe strips have been scraped off. I was only allergic to aloe and aspirin

  It was time to shower. I made sure all my stuff was where it was supposed to be. I have this thing about things going where they're supposed to. It drives my family crazy, just as I expected it would. There are something you just can't deal with, they just sort of happen.

  Was Mom that way? Had it happened because it was supposed to? No. No. She wasn't supposed to go like that. Not now, not then, not ever. I stood there, leaning against the wall trying to pull myself together. What was wrong with me? Why was this happening? I didn't even like her that much and here I was, borderline crying over something so stupid. I needed to get passed this “she-died-and-I'm-never-going-to-see-her-again” phase.

  She was dead, Rob, I told myself over and over again. There's nothing you can do about it. Just move on. I stopped. Just move on. The words rang in my head like large bells. You can move on, I told myself. It's not that hard.

  I turned the shower on, pulled the curtain and got in, watching the steam engulf my body. I shuddered at first, the cool temperature of my body adjusting to the sudden change. The heat felt good, giving me a small boost in energy. I felt the hot water rain on my skin. I leaned against the back wall and grimaced at the pain. It was perfect, just what I needed. My mind was going in all sorts of directions. I wanted control. Where had all my control on life gone? I slowly sat down in the floor of the shower. The water wasn't nearly as hot as it was when I was standing, but I couldn't stand anymore. I laid head back in frustration.

 
Why was all of this happening to me? I asked. I need to feel. I need some sort of relief for what it's inside of me. There's something there, burning and burning. Tell me why it's there! Tell me why I can't get away from it! My heart and soul were shouting. They were calling out for help. Calling who or what I don't know. I just know I was calling. I can't handle this on my own. I need someone or something to help me. Why am I all alone? Where are my angels? Where are my friends? Where is my hope? I couldn't get a grasp on things. I started crying. The tears flowed with the water from the shower. I wanted it all to end there, but I couldn't do that. I didn't wanna die, but at the same time I did. Why couldn't I get passed all of this? I knew what I had to do. I had to move on. Just move on.

  The water cooled. I stood carefully, worried that I might fall over and hurt myself. I didn't want any attention brought to my scars or my body. I carefully put some shampoo in my hair, then lightly scrubbed before washing it out. The water was almost ice cold now. I placed my whole body under it and felt the tears begin again. I wanted to stop. I just couldn't. There was too much pain and suffering inside; too much damage done.

  I turned the water off and stood there, doing what I could to pull myself together. I'd cried and gotten it out of my system. I was going to be fine now; I was ready for today. I dried off and got ready to leave.

  ------

  The ride to work was long and gruesome. I was suffering from the shower I'd had this morning and was worried. I had another appointment this afternoon with Dr. O'Nassis. I'm so sick of seeing him. I don't feel like I'm making any progress. I went because Dad and UAH required me to. Actually, it was more of Mrs. Madison than it was UAH. I doubt UAH cared how I did, just as long as I funded their extravagant spending habits.

  I'm Already There by Lonestar was playing. It was a beautiful song, one of their best. In my opinion, the band that “broke up” the best was Matchbox Twenty. Rob Thomas didn't really leave. In fact, unless I missed something in Pop Culture 101, Matchbox Twenty played for his solo album. Thinking about them made me want to change the song, which I did.