there is the noise of voices. there is the sound of pans and dishes rattling. there is the stomp of feet. as the sun creeps through the blinds, as he tries to sit up but gets dizzy and has to lay down again he would like to think it was a nightmare but the pain tells him different. he fades out.
he wakes up to the sound of a car. he wakes to the sound of children laughing and running inside. he can trace their path as they move from the porch to the front room. as they move and call out to their mother. as they are greeted as they are held and whispered what happened. or a story of what could happen.
he has one eye swollen.
'____ so ____ stupid,' he says thinking about what he lost as he traces their wedding picture with a bent finger.
'dad,' they call. they move quick, they jump to the bed they hug him and he groans.
'careful,' he can hear a voice say.
there is a movement in his body towards vomit. the pain causes his vision to go white. he wants to hold them, to kiss them. he wants to feel the power of youth in his children. he wants to be loved and express love. 'careful,' comes the voice as he curls and moans.
they retreat.
there is the sound of the door closing. he looks, but is too late. there is only the folded upon itself white robe. the one with his name that she wears. it was a wedding gift. there is only the copper door knob that he fixed when they moved in. he can remember kneeling before it screwdriver in hand.
'what's next?' he thought as he unscrewed the knob. as he held the piece in his hand staring into the hole looking for what could be a problem.
she was there, at the edge of the bed, long auburn hair then. she was there indian style on the bed watching with baited breath. she was full of victory kisses. she was full of victory hugs. she was full of love to dispense on him, just waiting for him to give her a chance.
'what is going on?' he wonders the drifts to black.
he wakes up to the sound of laughter. he wakes up to find a dish with a sandwich and water on the night stand. he wakes up and has to use the toilet. it is slow but he moves. it is tear inducinng painful but he stands. he holds the wall like a drunk and teeters sliding across the floor. he braces himself for a few steps. he moves forward gaining balance. going from touching the wall to standing on his own. he sucks his teeth and groans but makes it across the floor to the tiled bathroom.
he does not want to see the mirror so looks straight ahead. he wants to focus on the grey wall. he wants to focus on the deep brown shower curtain. he wants to turn his attention to the tissue box atop the toilet. he is successful but for a split instant, out of the corner of his eye when he can see the purple, the red, the black and the blue. it is glimpse, it is swollen it runs down his face spilling across his chest across his arms down to his legs.
he holds himself as he urinates. he sighs. tears come and he has to use his free hand to prop himself up. he palms the wall openly weeping.
there is the noise of family down stairs and as the day fades towards the night he wobbles back to the bed. as the day fades to night and he can hear the clink of dinnerware he chews a bit of the turkey sandwich, drinks a bit of from the water glass sucks the snot through his nose and rubs his tearing eyes.
as the day fades to the night he leans back. he groans. he listens for a hint at what has become. he listens for anger or violence. children are laughing the television flicks on and as he fades he wonders what he has done.
he wonders what is to come.
somebody laughs. he is back to sleep.
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