THE CHAUFFEUR - Chapter 14

The confusion that follows through the coming weeks was not like anything I had experienced before. I lay on my futon mattress staring up at the brushed textured ceiling and feel void of emotion, feeling, hope. I do not feel bad or depressed about such, just... void.

When Brian made the second of the life-changing phone calls, it was after Eeyore's Birthday Party. I had already said my last 'good bye' the day before, although it was tragically pointless and empty. Jeb had been moved out to the lake for his final 3 weeks on this earth, and by the time I saw him his body had began to systematically shut down. He was nothing more than an all-encompasing star trapped inside a paper-thin shell twitching randomly from the nerves' obvious desentagration, something I had unfortunately seen before.  Jeb's mom, Eileen desperately tried to read into his movements, motions, responses, and reactions. It was a tragic attempt to avoid the enevitable obviousness which I had seen with my own mother just a few years before.  Sad.  Understandable, but still sad.

I walked away with nothing. My "goodbye", if I had one, was the six months prior where we drank ourselves silly every evening. I had nothing more to say. I had nothing more to take in.

It is 4:05 in the morning. I cannot sleep from sheer exhaustion. I've cried as much as I could. My brain, in a tragic flaw of geneology will not stop spinning about the loss... The world's loss. And yet... FUCK THE WORLD.  It's MY fucking loss. And yes, I wanted to scream until I was hoarse with anger. But it wasn't in me. It isn't there. 4:09 am and I have no movement other than a steady stream of tears trickling down the side of my face.

My nature, as it seems, is to put so many hopes and aspirations on the cute pleasantries in a Pollyannaeque gift box, and then weep when such expectations are lost to the violent winds of reality. This was not the case as the reality was firmly established and there was no future past Jeb's death. The lack of knowledge has always been my worst enemy and now, fully filled with exact specifics, I am able to breathe... I am able to smile at the memories. I am able to move on.

But not just now. 

The memorial service was the "real", and when the mountainous amount if coke I inhaled had worn off, I was left with my body, no longer shaking, no lingering pins poking into the back of my eye. I was able to feel. 

And here is where that finds me, 4:12 and alone. The apartment silent with my own whimpering. My heart so heavy it beats with a thud.  I don't want this pain to end as it is the feeling of respect and honor. It is the feeling of influence, presence... Love.

4:14am. The steam from my eyes runs steady still.