Twenty Eight: 1. Words

My reflection bounces back at me from the empty television screen across my living room. The entry door just shut - far from gently. I’m on my knees. The remote to the screen, sensitive to touch, must have shook with my fall. The screen wakes up. The football game I’m ignoring streams. I want to say something. Anything. To acknowledge what just happened. Even to myself. I can’t speak. I can barely think. For the first time in my life, I’ve run out of things to say. Fuck, man.

#

“They’ve died.” The status looms on my social media feed. It’s the first thing I’ve read all morning. I haven’t even rolled out of bed yet. Usually I’m pretty disoriented when I wake up far from home. This morning is frighteningly more disorienting than normal. We knew this was coming, but why now? Christmas is in a week. When’s the funeral? Damn, the wife & kids. Can I get across the state in time? Another goodbye. What the hell is going on? Breathe. Thoughts are silent now. My feelings still. I can’t even sense my heart beat. In one hour, my shit needs to be together. Early check out. Cool, cool, cool. Far from convenient. Fuck, man.

#

My lawyer is saying something. Not to me. To everyone else in the room. I’ve spoken less than a dozen times today. Single words. “Yes. No. Understood.” I’ve spent my entire life being able to talk my way out of things. Not because I’m smooth. Not because I’m attractive. Not because I can read minds. Because I’m sincere. Because I smile. Because situations never carried this much weight. What I have to say doesn’t serve me here. My past actions, money, & the voice of others does serve me here. The less I say, the better off I am. Wow. This is becoming a trend. Fuck, man.

#

They’re back. I want to say something. But saying something never goes well. “Actions go a lot farther with me than whatever someone has to say to me.” I know. I’ve been trying to adapt, but, damn, my patience is thin. Actions take time to prove a point. Especially when trust is thin. I’ve never been tested like this before. Jesus. Frustrated. Communicating like this is … hard. Thoughts matter. Body language matters. Other people matter. When did loving people become so complicated? Probably always has been. I swear, the older I get, the less I actually know. Where do I go from here? Fuck, man.

#

Three hours. Radio silence. “I’ve never seen you glow like this before.” Thank you. Running out of things to say is kind of nice. I’m confused, sure. But, I don’t know, losing your super power for a bit might be a good thing. It’s easy to take a super power for granted when it doesn’t have limits. I have limits. If I’m nothing without my super power, I don’t deserve it. I have to learn to live differently … communicate differently … love differently. Maybe it’ll come back. Maybe it won’t. But right now, I’m finding out if I deserve my super power. I’m finding out if I deserve to have words, again.

Fuck, man.