I back the truck out, start driving through the town. The highway isn’t far, I know my way. I drive just above the speed limit. I know that if I drive too fast I draw attention, if I drive too slow I draw attention. I’m not nervous about driving. I know the risk I am taking sitting behind the wheel. I am making a decision to take the risk because it is worth it to me. If I sit here and wait I will go fucking crazy with worry. I want to get to Chicago as fast as I can. If I get caught, I get caught. I will deal with it if it happens.
I roll out onto the highway. It is not crowded. I pull into the right lane behind a large tractor/trailer. I turn on the radio. I find a station that has the news twenty-four hours a day. I haven’t looked at a newspaper or watched television in three months. I have no idea what is going on in the world. I listen for a few minutes. Same bad news. I turn it off. I stare at the road.
Time moves slowly when you want it to move quickly. Each minute is ten, each ten a thousand. I stay behind the tractor/trailer, drive three miles over the speed limit. I smoke my stale cigarettes one after another after another. I think about Lilly. I think about what it is going to be like when I see her again. I think about what it is going to be like when I stand in front of her door. Despite the circumstances, I know I’ll have a big smile on my face. I’ll knock and she’ll say come in and I’ll open the door and I’ll step into her room. Hopefully someone will have been sitting with her, helping her, holding her hand, Lilly will pull away and come to me. She’ll come into my arms. I’ll close them and I’ll hold her. She’ll start to cry and I’ll say I love you. I’ll hold her for as long as she needs to be held. We’ll deal with her Grandmother and her Grandmother’s death. We’ll get Lilly out of the halfway house and out of her job at the hospital. We’ll find a place to live it doesn’t have to be a palace, just has to be a place for us. We’ll get jobs, make some money, be together, stay together, live together, deal together, just be together. We’ll grow old together.
I cross the border of Indiana and Ohio. I smile. I’m safe now, I will not be back in Ohio for a long fucking time. I put my foot down, my old blue truck jumps, we go from sixty-three to eighty-three. I keep it at eighty-three because I know that if I get caught going eighty-five or higher, twenty-five miles or more over the speed limit, there’s a chance that I will get arrested for reckless driving instead of speeding. Part of being arrested for reckless driving is that the trooper has the option of putting the offender in jail. If I go back to jail, even if it’s for a couple hours, I’m fucked. I could give a shit if I get a speeding ticket. I’ll tear it up and throw it out the fucking window as soon as the trooper who writes it is out of eyesight. I drive eighty-three.
The miles start to add up. I see signs that have the mileage to Chicago on them. One hundred twelve miles. Eighty-eight miles. Sixty-three miles. Thirty-nine miles. I smoke my cigarettes and I smile I am almost there I smile. I turn the radio back on and I find a station that plays light hits, cheesy romantic ballads, lovey-dovey love songs. I sing along if I know the words. If I don’t know the words, I make up my own. I’m getting closer sweet girl I’ll be with you soon big kisses on your face my heart goes boom, forever and ever, oh yeah, oh yeah.
I cross the border into Illinois. The highway becomes bigger and more crowded. Smoke stacks and oil tanks dominate the land, the air smells like sulphur, gasoline. The sun is starting to drop, the sky is the menacing gray of deep winter. I should make it before it is completely dark. I should be there soon. I have the address of the halfway house and I have a general idea of where it is, somewhere on the north side of the city. Near downtown. It is a major street I should be able to find it without a problem. I start to get more excited. I smile. If I got in a wreck right now, I would do it with a smile. If someone shot me, I would take the bullet with a smile. If I got in a fight, I’d smile as I threw my punches. I am almost there, almost there. I love you, Lilly. Almost there.
I cross a large bridge I’m closer. I get off the highway I’m on a smaller road that runs along the edge of Lake Michigan. The lake is frozen. The ice is dirty and black. I can hear the wind screaming, I can feel it pushing my truck. My truck is a good truck a strong truck an old friend of a truck. My truck laughs at the wind, says fuck you wind, we’ve got somewhere to be, someone is waiting for us.
I take a ramp off the road into the center of the city. Towers of steel and glass on every side, crowded streets, horns. Pedestrians are heavily dressed, they lean slightly forward as they walk, they hurry to escape the bitter, bitter cold. I move inland, north and across the Chicago River. There are icicles hanging from the iron rails of the bridge, smoke and steam drifting through the girders. I look for Dearborn that is the name of the street. Dearborn. She’s on Dearborn.
I see it and I turn and I start scanning the buildings for an address. I start to get nervous, excited, scared. My hands start quivering trembling shaking. I can feel my heartbeat increase, it starts pounding, pounding. The last time I saw Lilly we were in a hallway at the treatment center. It was the day I was leaving. We stood in the hall and we held each other and we kissed each other and she cried and told me she was going to miss me. I told her to be patient that I would come to her as soon as I could. We said I love you, we held tight, we didn’t want to let go. I walked away and Lilly stood and cried. I told her to be strong that I would come back to her. I find the neighborhood, which was once the most glamorous in the city, fell into disrepair, and is now coming back. I see the building. It is a large stately home. Four floors, white columns, tall framed windows, a grand entrance. It is ragged, but still gorgeous, as if in a previous life it was an embassy or the home of a corporate titan. There is a small subtle sign in the front yard that has the name of the treatment center and in smaller letters reads Residential Extended Care.
I see an open parking space about half a block away. I drive down the street, pull into the spot. I see a florist at the end of the block. I fumble with the keys, my hands are shaking, I get out of the car. I walk to the florist and I open the door and I step inside. There is a woman behind the counter. She has gray hair and brown eyes, she is wearing a bright red turtleneck. She smiles, speaks.
Cold, isn’t it?
Miserable.
You should wear warmer clothes.
I would, but I don’t have any.
As I look around, I take a deep breath through my nose. I let it out, speak.
Smells nice in here.
Good. I’d be worried if it didn’t.
I smile.
I need some flowers. I’ve got thirty-four dollars in my pocket. What can
I get?
What would you like?
I don’t know shit about flowers.
She laughs.
What’s the occasion?
Reunion.
What type?
I smile again. I can’t help it. Lilly is down the Street.
I just got out of my jail. My girlfriend is in that halfway house down the street. Her Grandmother just died, and I want to give her something that will make her feel better.
The woman nods.
You want to cheer her up, and you probably want to show her that you love her.
I smile.
Yeah.
The woman steps from behind the counter, leads me toward a cooler. The cooler is filled with flowers sitting in white plastic buckets and arrangements sitting on shelves. She opens the cooler and she reaches into a bucket and she pulls out about twenty red roses, she pulls out every rose in the bucket. She closes the cooler. I speak.
I can’t afford all of those.
She smiles.
I’m having a sale. How’s thirty dollars sound?
I smile.
Thank you. Thank you very much.
Do you want them wrapped?
Is that what you do?
Yes, it is.
I smile again.
I can’t stop smiling.
I’d love to have them wrapped.
The woman steps back be
hind the counter. She reaches for some white paper, pulls it from a long roll, tears it along a sharp edge. She sets it on the counter in front of her and she sets the roses the beautiful red roses on top of it. I turn and I walk to the window. I look down the street toward the halfway house. It is almost dark, there are lights in the windows, on the front porch, along the front walk leading to the porch. Lilly is in there, in that house, I will have you in my arms soon. Beautiful Lilly, beautiful Lilly. I have missed you so much. I will have you in my arms soon. I have missed you so much.
I’m finished.
I turn around. The woman is holding the roses wrapped in paper, baby’s breath surrounding them. I step toward her, reach into my pocket.
Thank you.
I set the thirty dollars on the counter, take the flowers. The woman smiles.
Have a good night.
Thank you. Thank you very much.
I turn around and I walk out of the shop. I’m smiling still smiling. I start walking down the street. It’s cold, but I don’t feel it. I start running, gradually faster, as fast as I can, I’m running and smiling. I turn up the walk, I’m on the front porch, I open the door, I step inside.
A simple foyer. Dark carpet, beige walls, a worn wooden desk, a cheery landscape on the wall behind. There is a woman sitting at the desk smoking a cigarette. She looks up at me. Her eyes are red and swollen.
She speaks.
Can I help you?
I step forward.
Is Lilly here?
She stares at me for a moment. Her upper lip quivers, she looks like she’s about to break.
Who are you?
My name is James.
She looks at me, bites her lip. She takes a deep breath and stands.
Just a minute please.
She steps from behind the desk, walks to a door, opens it, leaves. I stand with my flowers and my smile and my pounding heart, my pounding heart.
The door opens and a man steps into the room. He’s in his late thirties.
He has short dark messy hair, wears baggy jeans and a wool sweater. He has bags under his eyes, which are also red and swollen. He speaks.
James?
He reaches out a hand. I shake it.
I’m Tom. I’m the director of this facility.
What’s up, Tom?
Would you mind coming back to my office?
Why?
I need to talk to you. I’d prefer to do it in private.
Where’s Lilly?
Why don’t you come back to my office.
I want to see Lilly, Tom.
Please, James.
I’m not going back to your office, Tom. Just tell me where the fuck Lilly is.
He looks at the floor, takes a deep breath. He looks up at me.
Before I tell you, I just want you to know that Lilly loved you very much.
She talked about you all the time and . . .
What the fuck is going on here?
He looks at me. He doesn’t speak. His eyes are wet.
Tell me what the fuck is going on here.
He looks at me, bites his lip, takes a deep breath. My heart pounding.
Lilly.
His voice breaks.
Lilly.
His voice breaks again.
Lilly passed away this morning.
I stare at him. I am holding her roses.
What?
My heart pounding.
Lilly died this morning.
My heart pounding.
What happened?
Pounding.
She took her own life.
I stare at him. My heart, my heart, my heart. He stares at me, speaks.
I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.
Her flowers slip from my hand.
What happened?
My heart.
We don’t know. Her grandmother had just died. She was very shaken. We found her hanging from the shower faucet. She didn’t leave a note.
I turn around.
I walk out of the House.
My heart.
My heart.
My heart.
No no no.
Suicide.
It is dark and it is cold.
No no no.
Suicide.
I start walking toward my truck.
No no no.
Suicide.
My legs start shaking. Yes, suicide. My chest starts shaking. Yes, suicide. My arms start shaking and my hands are shaking. Yes, suicide. My face is shaking. Yes, suicide. I take a step and my knees buckle. I try to take another, my legs won’t support me. I fall, fall to the sidewalk. I try to get up, but I can’t, yes suicide. I look around me. I’m on a street I don’t know in a city I’ve been in twice. Yes, suicide. I came here for Lilly and she’s dead, hanging in the shower, she’s dead. Yes, suicide. She was supposed to wait for me. I told her I would be here she was supposed to wait. Yes, suicide. She hung herself in the shower, I can’t believe this is happening. She’s dead. She killed herself. I can’t believe this is happening. She’s dead.
I start crying. I sit on the sidewalk and I cry. It feels like there’s a hole in my chest, it feels like everything has become a deep dark horrible fucking hole. There are tears, I shake. I lose my breath. There’s a hole and I can’t get out of it, I can’t escape. I’m falling deeper, deeper, deeper. I cry, I can’t breathe. I bury my face in my hands I feel tears dripping from my eyes and my nose, streaming across my cheeks, running down my neck. I was coming I got here as fast as I fucking could. She didn’t wait for me. She went into the bathroom and she tied a knot a strong knot. I want out of this hole I want out I want to stop crying. She put her neck in a noose she knew I was coming to her she knew what she was doing to herself. She put her neck in the noose. Please please please let me out of this please.
She strung herself up. She let herself down. She lost the ability to breathe. No, I can’t believe this is happening, no. She put her neck in the noose and she hung herself and she couldn’t breathe and she didn’t stop, she didn’t stop, she didn’t stop. Why she didn’t stop. Why didn’t she fucking stop. I came here to help her I came here to give her everything. She hung herself. I can’t stop crying I want to stop crying I can’t stop. Hang, my beautiful Lilly, hang. I would have done anything for you. Hang my beautiful Lilly, hang. Let me out of this fucking nightmare please let me wake up, let me wake the fuck up. She stopped breathing. I’m not waking up. She stopped seeing thinking feeling she stopped breathing. I can’t get out. She hung herself and she’s dead. She hung herself and she’s dead.
There is a church on the next block. I can see the steeple and I can hear the bells. The bells ring every hour. I can hear them above the wind. The streets are empty. It’s late and it’s dark and it’s cold as hell. I am sitting on the sidewalk. I am crying. I have been here for hours. Just sitting and crying. The crying comes in waves. Tears, sobs, screaming. The crying hurts. Hurts my chest and my faces, hurts the things inside that do not have names. Tears sobs screaming. Everything hurts. The same word over and over.
No.
No.
No.
Crying.
Sobbing.
Screaming.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop.
The bells are ringing.
The wind is screaming.
Nine times I hear the bells.
And it starts to slow.
Gradually slow.
Slow, slow, slow.
I stop crying. I stand. My legs hurt and my chest hurts. My face hurts, my eyes and lips hurt. I am cold. I am shaking. It’s dark and I am cold and my entire body is shaking. I can see the building down the street. The building where Lilly lived. The building where she was supposed to be getting better. The building where she was waiting for me, the building where we were supposed to meet. I can see the building. The building where she killed herself. The building where she killed herself.
My lips quiver. A chill shoots down my spine. I can see the buil
ding. I turn away and I start walking down the street. I stop at my truck. I take my keys out of my pocket. I open the door, climb inside, shut the door. It is warmer inside, but not much. I put the key in the ignition and I start the engine and I turn on the heat and I wait and I start to cry again. I start to cry. I want to stop, but I can’t stop. I want to take a deep breath and tell myself that everything is okay, but I’m unable to do so. I have no control over myself. I have no control over my emotions. I have no control over my body’s need to express those emotions. All of the time I spent sitting alone in my cell trying to teach myself how to regulate my behavior is worthless, irrelevant. Lilly killed herself. Hung herself in the shower. She’s dead. She’s fucking dead. It doesn’t matter that I don’t want to cry. It doesn’t matter that I want to stop. I can’t do anything. I have no control.
I cry and I wait for the heat. The heat comes and I sit in front of the vents and I stop shaking. The inside of the truck becomes warmer and warmer and I stop crying. My body needs a break, needs to rest, needs to try to let my mind and my heart accept what has happened. They don’t want to accept it. They know one word. No. They keep telling me that I’m going to wake-up and find her waiting for me. No. They keep screaming she’s not dead, she’s not dead, she’s not dead. No. She is the only person I have ever truly loved. She is the only person who made me want to live. She is the only person on Earth who could hurt me. She killed herself this morning. Walked into the bathroom and tied a knot and hung herself from the shower. It didn’t matter what I felt, how much she meant to me, how much I loved her. It didn’t fucking matter. She hung until she stopped breathing. She’s dead. My mind and heart don’t want to accept it. No.
I reach for my pack of cigarettes. I take one out and I light it. I take a deep drag, hold it in, exhale. I stare out the window. I feel empty. I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest. I feel disconnected, as if my body and mind are no longer part of the same vessel. I am exhausted. As I lift my arm to bring the cigarette back to my mouth, my arm is heavy, my hand is heavy, the cigarette is heavy. Everything I do takes great effort. I inhale slowly. I feel the smoke traveling through my throat and into my lungs. I exhale slowly, feel the smoke coming back. I am so tired. What the fuck am I going to do. Somebody please help me.