I’m not really sure who I think I can go to with this request. The universe, I guess, whatever higher power out there that’s listening and can help me. Those are two big things no one out there seems to have in common. The people willing to listen can do nothing to help, and the people (or things or powers) that can help don’t seem willing to listen. No one can both help and listen. It’s a brutal cycle. There’s nowhere to turn.
But if there were…?
I’d be willing to make a deal.
That’s all bargaining really is, when you get down to it. Wishful thinking. All the things I’d be willing to give up if I could just get one thing back. It’s a sad realization to know there’s nothing I can do to change things. It’s a nice escape from reality, imagining all the scenarios in which William could still be alive, but there’s no point. It just makes my heart sick, thinking about all the ways I won’t be able to see him or talk to him again. I have to start living in the real world again. It’s nice to pretend things can change, but they can’t.
I see the exit before the GPS chirps at me. I guess that’s what happens when you start paying attention to the rest of the world. The Chinese place I found off this exit is called “Imperial China Garden” (not to be confused with the initial China Gardens). It was one of the few places I found through guide books instead of the Internet, so I’m hoping it’s got good food. Now that I’m concentrating on my surroundings the smell of the egg rolls is making me hungry. I could use a nice meal.
The building is bright yellow for no reason I can see, but the “open” sign is flashing and it’s right off the highway. I walk in and the whole place smells delicious. The floors are a little sticky (although most restaurant floors are sticky… I wonder why) but overall, the place looks clean (and even if it didn’t, I’m starting to get too hungry to care).
“You order?”
“Um, yeah, I’d like a table. I’m sick of sitting in my car. It’ll be nice to have something served restaurant-style. They actually have menus here. This place looks promising.
“Know what you want?”
“Sweet and sour chicken with fried rice and an egg roll.”
“Alright.” The waitress nods and walks back to the kitchen. There are only two other people there but they look satisfied. The kitchen is quiet and they only seem to have three people working, including the waitress. Probably more than they need, if business is this quiet all the time. The food gets here quickly and it is delicious. This probably tops the list of all the places I‘ve been to so far (seems like they just keep getting better). This is the first meal I’ve had on my trip where my mind isn’t running in circles. It’s so nice to be relaxed. I almost don’t want to leave. I don’t want to feel any more emotions or try and come to terms with things. This is nice, just dealing with things as they come.
I spend some time indulging in the luxury of people-watching . The place hasn’t gotten much busier after about an hour , but the people there when I came in are still enjoying their meals. There’s a man in the corner reading a newspaper and chewing on some kind of breaded meat (or possibly tofu), but he does not once pick up the Blackberry by his hand, even though I’ve heard it vibrate several times. There’s a couple in the back corner enjoying their meal and talking to each other in whispers. Neither of them seems too eager to leave.
Something about the atmosphere of this place is so relaxed. No one wants to leave. Even the employees are sitting behind the front counter, talking and flipping through T.V. channels. Totally relaxed. No one’s come up to bother me about paying my bill, or to ask if I need another refill of my water glass yet. It’s nice to be left alone while still around people. This place is perfect. If I could stay in this place, this state of mind, for the rest of my life, I think I’d be okay (then again, that’s what the lotus eaters thought). It’s just such a nice break. There aren’t enough places like this in the world.
But I have to go. I want to be with William again and going to Minnesota is the only way to do that. No amount of bargaining can change the facts.
“Do not sulk in your own mind.”
Only three hours left to my destination, and I don’t feel as nervous as I thought I would. I’m just going to my aunt’s house tonight - that might have something to do with it. I’m sure the nerves will finally kick in when I get to ‘‘That Place.” I don’t even have a plan. But that’s not what this hour is about.
Depression is a dangerous thing. It’s not exactly the state of mind anyone aspires to, and once it’s achieved it’s almost impossible to get out of. I thought about leaving it off my list, but it seems integral to losing a loved one. It’s not like anyone celebrates becoming depressed, but if you’re going to be, there’s nothing you can do to escape it. I think I thought that if I forced myself to be depressed with a time limit, it would keep me moving on. If it doesn’t, I’ll be stuck in a crippling mind freeze with no way to get out. I don’t have covers to hide under right now, so maybe it’ll all work out better than if I was at home. I find I’m always braver outside of my house – but only because it’s necessary. You can’t just quit in the middle of the highway.
Now. Depression. That’s not exactly something you can intentionally trigger. It’s more something that just creeps up on you. Pity is something to try. Self-pity is almost like the mother of depression. I have plenty to feel sorry for myself about.
My best friend hates me and wishes I was dead. She even wrote that on the Internet. My other friends are too busy with their new “adult” lives to care (or they’re all cowards). I have a handful of weeks to make a major life decision. I have no idea what I want to do with my life. The love of my life (and real best friend) is dead. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to love him or hate him anymore. If I say (or even think) I’m angry at him for what happened, I’m a horrible person – because he’s dead. I’m angry with him because if he hadn’t been such a dumbass for so long he’d be alive. This makes me a horrible person.
I can feel it starting to creep in around me. If my life were a weird art film the world would be fading into black and white. There would also be mist or smog or fog – probably fog. I’m not sure why. It just seems like another appropriate effect. Depression is a scary feeling, even more scary because it clouds your vision to what’s real and distorts things (like fog). Sure, there are the usual symptoms. I want to go to sleep. I don’t want to be on this trip. I don’t want to do anything. Even breathing feels like it takes a massive effort. Those aren’t pleasant feelings on their own, but there’s something worse: the questions. At first I think they’re coming from me, but really it’s just the fog.
Did I do something to deserve this?
Am I a horrible person?
Will I die alone?
Will I never make a real friend?
Do I not deserve friends?
What did I do to deserve this?
How can I fix myself?
Why did William die?
Why did I let William die?
Why didn’t I try to do more?
Was Amanda right?
Should it have been me instead?
Did the universe make a mistake?
Was it supposed to be me?
I take a deep breath and try to force the depression back. We’re heading into dangerous territory fast. I blame Romeo and Juliet and all this “thus, with a kiss, I die” crap. Talk about a powerful line (not one of my favorites though). It’s like we’re taught that if our love dies, the only course of action is immediate suicide. I don’t want to be dead. I miss William. I want to be with him again. I don’t want to die. Not only do I not want to die, but William wouldn’t want me to die either.
He’d hate himself for eternity if he knew he was the reason I cut my life short. I know William wouldn’t want me to die. That’s real love. And I want to make sure William’s memory lives on as long as possible. That’s real love too. Imagine how things would have ended if Romeo and Juliet loved each other like that? They would have set a b
etter example for teenage romance, that’s for sure.
I’m lucky William loved me the way he did. It helps stop the depression. Even if I’m having trouble living for myself, I know he’d want me to keep living. When it’s hard to keep going for myself I can do it for him. He’s keeping me going even now. That helps to beat back the depression. Not doing this for myself makes me feel stronger.
I don’t think I’ll ever find a guy to love me like that again. To lose the love of your life at almost eighteen…It’s not fair. I’ve always wanted to get married – eventually. Does this mean my one chance is gone? Why is it that depression makes you ask all the right (or wrong) questions? The questions that send you down even deeper. Down to the places you don’t want to look.
It feels selfish to think like that when William’s chances for everything are gone.
I’m a horrible person.
Here comes more of that fog.
I knew it wasn’t a good idea to mess with depression. From the day William died it’s been hovering around the edges, and all it needed was an open door. It came through a few times, usually when Amanda had done something to pile on even more pain and hit me when I was struggling to get up. I’d always had people there to help me through it: my parents, work, and… well, that was about it, but at least it was something. Being alone… I’ll have to take care of everything on my own. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to handle it, but I’m also not sure if that’s really what I think, or if that’s the depression talking.
I let out a long sigh. Pretty stereotypical depressed behavior, I know, but there’s no one else in the car, so it’s not like I have anyone to show off for. I feel like crying would make me feel better (like throwing up makes you feel better when you’re sick) but I can’t manage it. That makes it worse somehow. Everything stays bottled up and I can’t get it out, so it builds up and makes me feel even worse. I think not being able to cry is even worse than crying all the time.
This sucks.
Luckily, my GPS chirps. At least that means my hour’s almost up. Hopefully I’ll be able to pull myself out of the depression and into whatever other madness is in store for the final two hours of the trip. I’m not hungry and I really don’t feel like dealing with people, so I opt to use the drive-thru and order soup. This drive-thru is a little strange, although I’ve seen it several times at places that are small and unable to afford the massive drive-throughs of places like McDonald’s or Burger King. They have a small plaque with all the menu items (complete with pictures) as you drive up, but there’s no speaker to scream into or a computer monitor that displays your order. You actually have to drive up and order at the window, talk to a real person. You can even watch the kitchen while they cook your food. I wish all drive-throughs were like this. It’s comforting to know my food is actually being made by people, and not just pushed out of a machine and packed in a bag. Not that I have anything against fast food.I actually really like it. You can talk all you want about how terrible it is for you, but you can’t deny it tastes good if you don’t think too hard about where it comes from.
“Your order?” someone (Someone) leans through the window for me to shout out my order.
“Just egg drop soup.” I like being able to talk to the person I’m ordering from. I can tell whether or not they’ve heard me correctly or not. It keeps me from having to walk into the restaurant to complain about a bad order. which defeats the whole purpose of just driving through.
He nods, takes my money, and goes into the back. It doesn’t take long for him to come back with the bag. I’m sure they just have a huge pot of soup ready to be ladled out. That’s okay. It’s hard to mess up soup no matter how long it’s sitting on a stove. I look through the bag and notice some crunchy noodles to put in my soup (always a bonus), and, of course, the fortune cookie.
I pull over into an empty spot and decide to open my fortune cookie first.
It’s not the right way to do things. Fortune cookies should always be opened after food but I really don’t care. It’s going to be stupid, anyway. The universe has stopped talking to me – if it ever did to begin with.
“Don’t worry, be happy.”
Another lame “be happy” fortune. Those are the worst. It’s not like you can just “be happy” all of a sudden. I mean, plenty of people say you choose the way you act but that’s not entirely true. Sometimes you just have to be sad about things and you can’t just turn it off.
I realize that’s a little hypocritical, considering my whole trip is based on feeling and unfeeling emotions over an hour. But that’s just a last resort, not an everyday way of life. Besides, I’ve had no control over so many other things the past few months I feel entitled to control something.
“The you in the mirror is another self.”
Just two hours to go. I can’t even bring myself to be excited about being so close to what I’ve always thought of as “his world”. I’m just looking forward to sleep. I’m also looking forward to stopping these nine hours of emotional torment. But hey, if it’s this insane now, that has to mean I’m on my way to closure. After all, once I make it to my stop in Minnesota, there are only three steps left for the way home and they’re all about moving on. Things have to be getting better. I’m almost done with the list.
Well, they obviously won’t be getting better right now. I’ve got two more hours of terrible. But after that then things will be getting better.
I’m not really sure what the random web-psychologist meant by “reflection” when he put it on his Stages of Grief list. I didn’t put as much research into that as I did into the restaurant map (and I didn’t put all that much effort into the map). At first I thought it meant reflecting on me and my life. Then I thought it meant reflecting on me and William and our relationship. Now I’m not really sure. I guess it could mean some combination of both, like I’m supposed to reflect on my life now that William’s not in it, compared to our life together. Sort of like what you do after a break-up to prove to yourself you can survive without the other person, but on a more extreme level (and one that hurts a whole lot more).
I think the emotional part of my brain has been overloaded, because it’s getting harder and harder to call up those particular emotions. Or maybe I just don’t know what these emotions are. Everything changes when someone dies. Not just dies, really, but dies too young and unfairly. There is that whole “before and after” thing. My life will always be divided into the part where I had William and the part where I don’t. But there’s more to it than just a landmark. Everything, even things I thought I understood, change when they’re used in the context of his death.
All these emotions I thought I knew (I mean, what girl goes through high school without getting to know her emotions?) they’re all different. The anger I feel about William being dead is totally different from the anger I feel at Amanda’s bitchiness. Even the tears feel different when I cry for him. They seem heavier, more real than other tears somehow. I can’t really explain it, but I know there’s a difference. Everything’s different.
How do I get on with life knowing all this? I know William would want me to be happy. That isn’t a problem. How do I move on with other relationships after this? How do I make real friends I can connect with, how do I even start falling in love with a new guy? I know what it feels like to really, really lose someone. I’m not sure if people are worth the risk – worth this kind of hurt.
Sure, I don’t regret William. I loved him. But wouldn’t it be easier to never bother getting to know someone that well, than to risk hurting this much over them? I don’t think I could ever handle a loss this big again. It’s too much for any one person to take. I’d rather be a hermit for the rest of my life than have to lose someone like this again. How is that fair?
Well, maybe not . I’d get lonely and depressed. I guess people are part of the “healing process” in a way. So I need relationships to get me through this, but by relying on other people I put myself in the position for it to happen
again.
I hate the way life works, sometimes.
Most of the time.
I guess I don’t have much of a choice, though. I have to pick myself up and keep going, even though I know how (quickly) things can end.
It’s not just that it hurts though. I miss him too. I could act differently around William than I could around anyone else. We could talk to each other. I called him every morning the first few weeks he went to rehab because he wanted to hear a friendly voice before he went to those meetings. I could tell him about all the friend drama I had at school, stuff the other girls had me thinking was the end of the world, but in five minutes he could have me laughing it off.
We balanced each other out in a weird sort of way. I’m not sure if it was a healthy relationship or not, but I would have liked the chance to see where it was going. The heartache of a break-up is nothing compared to this. I’d rather lose him to something (even someone) else than to just lose him.
And yet, again, all I can think is that life really sucks.
At least I’m heading quickly to my last hour. It’ll be nice to do something other than sit in my car, listen to depressing music, and talk to myself.
I’m also getting really sick of Chinese food. I just want this road trip to be over. I’m tired and in desperate need of a good stretch, and not hungry. I hate to let the universe down since we had a deal, but it’s not like the universe doesn’t owe me one. I think I’m going to skip these last two Chinese food runs.
Chasing William Page 10
