The Last 48 Hours: Sunday
No dreams last night. That’s actually kind of out of place. For the past couple of weeks or so that I’ve been talking with her I’ve been dreaming far more often. Could it really be only a couple of weeks? The journey to Oklahoma always comes up in my dreams. I guess that is probably because it’s all I can think about. I lie in bed and muse for a few minutes but, suddenly, the events of last night come flooding back. Where was she? I need to find out, so despite the warmth of my bed I jump out and hurry downstairs. Check online, she’s not there. I guess she could be sleeping in or something. I decide to wait an hour or so to call her. I remind myself not to worry until after I call her. She’ll answer, I know she will.
I dial her number. Every ring is like another knife to my heart. After more than enough knives to kill me I get her answering machine. I mumble something about missing her last night and tell her to call me as soon as she gets the message. I hang up the phone. Okay, now it is time to worry. She has always answered her phone before. Maybe she recognized my number and decided not to answer. What if she is purposefully avoiding me? Why would she do that? I realize to my horror that it is Valentine’s Day tomorrow. I’ve never had much faith in my luck, and it would be just like fate to screw me over like this. Panic sets in. Various scenarios fly past my mind’s eye. I begin to assume the worst. What if she is dead? What she met Prince fucking Charming last night? Which is worse? I induce myself to calm down and stop being ridiculous. She loves me, right? If she really loved me she would have found some way to let me know what the problem is. I feel like screaming and banging my head against the wall. But I don’t.
I thank my nonexistent heavenly saviour that I have some reading to do for tomorrow. I’ve got to keep busy before I go insane. I attempt read about female teachers in 19th century France. Normally reading is pretty effortless for me, no matter how boring the subject matter. Today is a different situation entirely. The words seem to meld together into one incomprehensible mess. That’s what I am right now, an incomprehensible mess. At the end of every sentence my mind starts to drift back to her but I force myself to concentrate. Somehow I make it through the reading. Now what? Nothing seems appealing right now. I turn on the TV; passive entertainment will keep me occupied. There is a really good basketball game on right now, I watch but I don’t know the score.
I watch a little basketball, think about her, turn off the TV. I play a little counter-strike, think about her, turn off the computer. Nothing is working; nothing will shut that stupid brain of mine up. If it’s just a computer problem why hasn’t she called me yet? I decide to use reason; reason has always been there for me. She wasn’t online last night because of a computer problem of some kind. She hasn’t called me yet today because my phone number is on her computer. I forgot to leave my number when I left her that message so she must not be able to call me right now. That makes sense. I will cling to that for now. Temporarily satisfied, I turn back to my lovely passive entertainment.
Passive entertainment, you’re my only friend. Thanks to television I was able to stave off dementia for an hour or two. But wait, she’s still not online. Shut up, Shut up, Shut up. Stop thinking about it. Any minute now she’ll come online or call me and all this grief will be for nothing. Hmm, I smell roast beef and mashed potatoes. Must be Sunday. I eat some food and feel somewhat better. At least good enough to do a little textbook reading until the Raptors game comes on at six. American history, blah blah blah, post-civil war reconstruction, yakity-shmackity.
For some reason the Raptors hold a lot less appeal nowadays. Maybe it’s because they haven’t won a freaking game in about two weeks. Maybe it’s because I’ve actually got something more important to think about for once. Yes, that’s it, it must be her. Watching basketball was important to me because I didn’t have anything better. Sure, school is interesting. Sure, my friends are fun to hang out with. However, these are not exactly absolutely fulfilling. Love, on the other hand, is. Absolute fulfillment. The way she constantly occupies my mind is proof of that. Is this what happiness is? If so, why am I so scared that I haven’t talked to her in a day? Ack, bad questions. There is a game on, you idiot, just sit back and watch and shut up.
Well I’ll be damned, we won and I don’t feel any better. Normally the Raptors win and I’m on top of the world. Oh well, don’t overanalyse, you’ll just end up in another psychological disaster. Thankfully, Kevin calls me to see if I want to hang out for a bit. He’s got some episodes of Mr. Show on DVD that I’ve wanted to watch for a while. Man, I miss that show; they should have never cancelled it. I find myself wanting to talk to someone about her and about how worried I am but I don’t mention it to Kev. Guys just don’t talk about this kind of thing. Oh well.
I wonder what she would think about this particular skit on Mr. Show I just watched. A guy steps up on stage wearing an American flag and just starts spewing left-wing anti-authority anti-American sentiments. The kind I love and she hates. All of it is ironic though, I don’t think these guys actually hate America (they are from the states, I know that). But anyway, he takes off the flag he was wearing, lays it on the ground, and pulls down his pants and starts trying to shit on the flag. Here’s the bit: he’s constipated. So he keeps telling the audience that it is on it’s way and he’ll be shitting in no time but nothing happens. So he changes his strategy. He tells the audience that he will now piss on the flag. I guess he’s a little shy because nothing happens once again. So he’s real upset with himself and apologizes to the audience, and the scene ends with him wondering why he could not do it. The next scene starts: it’s America’s founding fathers sitting around a table trying to figure out what the flag should look like. It’s obviously not supposed to be historically accurate; Lincoln is at the table with Jefferson, Washington, Benjamin Franklin and some other guy. But anyway, for some reason they are specifically designing the flag to make sure nobody ever tries to shit on it. They come up with a few different ideas (Benjamin Franklin’s is the best, he proposes the flag actually be made of shit because then shitting on it “would be a meaningless gesture”). Eventually Lincoln (who has a hilarious voice for some reason, impossible to describe) shows them the actual flag, and says that the particular colour combination of red, white and blue automatically makes whoever sees it constipated. And so the scene ends with them all trying to shit on the flag and failing. And that’s how they choose the stars and stripes (apparently). I’m not sure why exactly it was so funny but that’s Mr. Show for you, very indescribable. I wonder if she’d find it offensive or stupid or funny or what. Still can’t stop thinking about her.
So Kev leaves and I am left alone again. Not good. Now I am significantly anxious. I am starting to seriously consider the possibility of never talking to her again. I don’t like that possibility. If she left me without saying goodbye… I just don’t know what I would do. I can guarantee I would never make myself vulnerable again. I would never fall in love again. I would probably never trust another human being for the rest of my miserable life. Hell, I might as well just kill myself right now. Any chance of happiness has been torn away from me. If I know I can never be happy, why would I go on living? The possibility of somehow making the world a better place used to keep me going, but not anymore. This society, this race, this planet feels just as worthless as I do now. I feel like crying, but instead I blank out my mind and stare at the wall. I am slowly unravelling like a poorly knit sweater caught on a nail.
Giving up already? You fucking coward. This is far from over. Despite the fact that it’s only been two days and there are a million plausible explanations for why she hasn’t called yet, you still have the plane tickets to Oklahoma. I could fly down there anyway and just wander around until I find her. Maybe try and find that donut shop she goes to all the time. What was it called? Big City Donuts, I think. Tulsa is kind of big. Maybe I’d be better off going to Grove and waiting for her there. Obviously it’ll take longer than three days to find her, but that doesn’t matter, I’ve got all the time in the world. Okay, say for some odd reason you do manage to find her, what do you say to her? Would you even recognize her? Well, the first question is simple enough, I just want an explanation. I just need to know why. I need to go to sleep before I do something stupid. I’ve got class early tomorrow anyway. I go upstairs and crawl into bed. No reading before sleep tonight, it’s just not tempting at all.
I’m still awake. This is ridiculous. I can’t get my mind off of her. I feel like crying but I just can’t do it, what is wrong with me? One second I want this and the other second I want the opposite. Despite my despair, I manage to crack an ironic smile. If this isn’t love, then love does not exist. Eventually, some time before sunrise, I manage to fall asleep.