my downstairs neighbor had a psychotic break. the police came to take her to the hospital yesterday. i wasn't home to witness it. i just heard the words left on my voice mail. and felt some sense of relief. and an overwhelming guilt. i should have done more. i should have recognized it. i should have known, walking with her through town on the way home, that she wasn't drunk. she was broken.
saturday night was supposed to be girl's night. me. rae. baines. drinks and dancing. putting the past week's poor decisions behind me. forgiving myself for letting my guard down. same story. different boy. i'll never learn. but when they tell you that you are beautiful and ask you where you've been all these months, you want to trust that what they say is true. that when they kiss you, they feel it. and when they tell you they want to be around you as much as possible, you close your eyes and take a deep breath and enjoy it. don't run. this is what you wanted. he's the nicest boy in town. all your friends say so. and he holds you close and whispers that he wants to be with you. with hands full of your brown hair, he draws you to his chest. he whispers that he wants you. just breathe. this feels nice. don't run.
he'll do that soon enough.
it was supposed to be girl's night, but we spent the evening looking for kat. trying to get in touch with her mom. and listening to her strange tangents. strings of disconnected thoughts. but there was nothing we could do. not unless she was a threat to herself or someone else. fuck the system. that pathetic helpless feeling it leaves you with. suffocating you. heavy heart. tears in your eyes. i sat in the sheridan listening to kat, but seeing my sister. all the pain i tried to escape has found it's way to my doorstep. literally. and now i'm involved. invested. and devastated. and all i can do is wait.
kat fires off an hour of attacks. she doesn't know god cause he's not from our generation. but i pray that he'll save me from this scene. lift me out. make it go away. i don't want it to be true. i don't want to be experiencing this. and the guilt cuts deep. i dash for the lady's room. and all i can see is my sister strapped to the hospital gurney. and my mother holding her hair while she vomits charcoal. and tylenol. and entire bottle of tylenol. and i am no where to be found. and i can feel that helplessness. the overwhelming pain in my mother's eyes. and i want to crumble to the floor. but i am standing in some drunk girl's way in the sheridan and kat is in the parlor leaving clues for her love to find. a scavenger hunt to her heart. it all makes perfect sense in her head. and i can see the pieces. it all sounds so familiar.
but we get her to calm down. she apologizes for verbally attacking me. says that i am a safe place and i have to look out cause they will hurt me. don't let the fathers hold me down. don't let them hurt the babies. and she goes to her hotel room. and i wander down main street. and meet a friend at the bubble. turns out the boy behind the bar isn't the nicest guy in town. i got schmoozed. so i wave hello because sometimes i am pathetic. and i walk home under star laden skies. and i climb into bed. defeated. dooped. guilty and broken. and i cry for my sister. and for my mom. but i don't dare call her. she has too much to worry about as is.
sunday morning finds me walking through town. coffee. and marley dog. on my way to church. but kat is wandering the streets also. on her own mission. she is freeing her possessions. donating all her things to the freebox. i watch her lurch down the street with an armload of skis. clothes. picture frames. and i try to convince her to stop. so she takes my hand and leads me down the stairs to her apartment. she wants me to choose something special. something to cherish and give to someone i care for. to give it a new life. a better life. and she pulls out her book. a duct taped binder full of poems and songs. a stack of her work compiled in a beat up three ring notebook. and she offers to read me a page. and she holds my hand. and i stroke her hair. and i cry as she loses her voice at the difficult lines. the lines that pierce her heart. and she tells me she is angry. and she wants to kill people. and she wants to kill herself. and i tell her she is safe. and i rub her back. and make her slow her breathing. deep breaths. and she tells me she knew we were supposed to meet. and thanks me for being her strength today. she didn't have anymore of her own at the moment. and i go upstairs to call for help. and collapse into jane's arms. and she comforts me. and talks me off my ledge. and kat makes another trip to the freebox. this time with her guitar. and it's gone. and the police are called. and i go to brunch and drink mimosas in the sunshine. and pretend i wasn't just kneeling on the floor in the basement, crying because i was helpless. and scared. and angry. and guilty. and i lay on the floor of my friends' apartment and cheer for spain. and talk about antartica and it's global warming/hose potential. absurdities that help me pretend that this isn't my life. i snuggle in between ben and paul and talk about hiking wilson so i don't have to think about kat. and the police. and my sister. and handcuffs and restraints. and lithium. and how i am the worst daughter for leaving my mom alone to deal with everything all these years.
and i return home to find kat's mom on our porch. i ask her how kat is. and she fakes a smile and says she isn't doing too great. and i say i know. that my sister has mental illness too. and she says, "then you do know." and my eyes well up. and i nod because the knot in my throat has strangled my words. and she nods back. and i offer any help. and she hugs me. and for a moment we are comforted by our shared pain. it has meaning. it has value. and she leaves quietly. and i feel so much love for my own mom in that moment. and then i change for work and pretend that i am a bartender in a ski town and i'm living the dream.
"But memory fades, tricks, becomes convenient, reshapes itself. It’s been [nine] years..." just breathe. sometimes that's all you can do. and sometimes, even that feels nearly impossible.
