On my 20th birthday, I walked to the grocery store and purchased a bottle of Tylenol PM and a pack of Kool's. I hadn't been outside in days and was hoping to do something worthwhile on this particular occasion. It's been an Indian summer this year. There are amber colored leaves in every yard on both sides of the street. Most people I used to be friends with are off to college.
I made it home and crawled into bed for what would be the rest of the day. My weight had dropped from 114 to 108 and eventually to 104. My skin clung around my bones like saran wrap; my cheeks sunken in. I called my sister and told her that I was leaving town the following day. I told her about the medicine and the diagnosis' and the shrinks. I listened to her cry, and though she didn't understand, she wanted what was best for me.
The next day I made arrangements over the phone and packed a suitcase. I set out west on the interstate on a cold, cloudy day. Everything in the past 3 months behind me now, so I could heal.
* * *
I knock on the door but no one answers. I walk inside and call out her name, and make my way towards her bedroom. She meets me in the doorway and she holds me. I want this moment to last. I feel her talking, but the hum of dread drowns out her voice. A truck pulls along the side of the road. They are friends of the family, and ask me to come with them. I tell them that I don't need a place to stay tonight, but they insist I get in the truck.
I was at Becky?s house earlier that night. We were becoming closer and she had hinted of leaving her fianc� for me. Something that night felt "off". I sat at the dinner table, reading a magazine, trying to ignore this terrible premonition I felt. Then I left without telling anyone where I was going.
My father holds my hand as we drive down Brownfield Rd. The dome light is turned on and I can see Eric, my father's best friend, his eyes darting from the road to the rearview mirror, back and forth. I want to thank him for being there, but I just murmer on about seeing Becky.
The truck sits there, refusing to leave. I knew someone had died, because they weren't going to take me to the hospital. I scream obscenities at them. I can't deal with this now. Find me in the morning.
Becky tells me to call her in the morning and I go back to the car where Eric and my father are waiting. I ask them to take me to the Emergency Room. I need to be sedated.
A cop pulls up next to me on the sidewalk and asks me to get in the truck, so I comply. There is a group of people standing out in the driveway when we arrive. I get out of the truck and scream at every one of them. I punch the mailbox and walk out into the street. My father, my grandfather, and my uncle hold me still and tell me that my mother has died. She has died in a car wreck.
While walking downtown, I couldn't help but feel like my life was going to change. I was listening to my discman, and a song called "Kinderfeld" came on. I knew the song was trying to convey something to me. Something important, but I hadn't put the pieces together yet. Then at the song's end, a truck pulled up along side of the road and asked me to get in.