It's been 16 years since that first summer in Sinn House, I still wake up in the dead of night nearly screaming from a horror escape just as I open my eyes, and the memory of an encounter nonexistent in my conscious mind. This morning was no different, but used to the routine, I wiped the sweat from my brow and walked into the living room of my apartment only to be greeted by the squeaks and taps of my roommate and his computer chair. Still playing the game that I had heard before going to bed, but at least he was kind enough to put on his headset. Mike was an insomniac and sleep was never at the top of any of his to-do lists, I had actually never seen him get a full night’s rest in all the years I had known him. I grabbed his shoulder, causing him to jump.
“Don’t do that man.” He said with a scowl turned soft with a smile
“Well I would just say good morning, but I didn't think you would hear me.”
Mike wearily took off his headset and stretched. “Yeah, you are right. Well I gotta get ready for work, can I get a ride today?”
I took a bowl from the cabinet and poured whatever cereal I had laying on the counter the day before. “Sure, I can take you. Let me eat and we will go. I have therapy today.”
“For sure.” Mike said with a half-ass smirk before standing up, only to knock his chair backwards to the carpeted floor. Eventually we made it out the front door and into the parking lot of our complex.
“Chilly today, right?” Mike said while exaggeratingly rubbing his arms.
“I guess so” I said, checking my breath for the warning of a cold day, it was a bit cold, but not enough for the mist of my breath to be seen.
We began our drive and before I knew it, I realized I was sitting outside the office of my therapist. I was early, so instead of sitting in a lukewarm car, I stepped into the building and took a seat in the waiting room. After a few minutes, a woman about my age walked out casting me a knowing glance. Although salty looking on the outside, she was pretty if not a bit misunderstood. Dyed tips of hair, two piercings and a chest tattoo resembling cerulean scales peeking out from the top of an already low cut top. A white cast covered her left arm up to the elbow. My attention span shot back into place as the assistant spoke my name for the second time.
“Yeah sorry.” I said hastily, grabbing my coat from the chair next to me.
I walked into the office that I have come to remember every detail of.
“Good Morning Atlas, I trust you brought your ‘homework' as I asked for in our last session.”
An embarrassed look shot up my face, and the heat of frustration with myself.
“No, I forgot it.” The therapist let out a sigh before continuing.
“It’s alright, we will start from scratch then. I have some new questions today, so take your time with the answers. I have a feeling you will need to dwell on them for a bit. Have a seat.”
I sat down, the feeling of embarrassment fading fast, but the anxious fluttering in my chest was still as strong as the first day I came into this office years ago.
An hour passed at a snail’s pace.
She walked me out to the lobby, no massive discoveries today just like every time before. It felt pointless to talk about the events, but never able to remember the worst, and unable to move on, like I am forced to talk around the point; the looming dread, the depression of fleeting happy moments, and the drain of social interactions. I left the building shrugging past the next patient. Entering the parking lot, the weather picked up a little bit, the cold residing for the sun and its warm embrace. I saw the same young woman from before, smoking a cigarette on the hood of my car.
“Excuse me? That’s my car.” I said with a note of frustration hidden under my nervous voice.
“I hoped this was your car,” she rose to her feet, “my name is Layla, I saw you staring at me when I was leaving. Seeing as we are both in therapy, you wanna get some coffee?”
I had never been on a date before and the straight forward approach caught me by surprise. I admit I was a little captivated, but the awkward look I apparently had plastered to my face said it all.
“Come on, there is a place down the street that is amazing. You’re driving.” Layla finished with a smirk.
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We drove a few minutes, thankfully the car was running smoother than it had been an hourish earlier. After parking and walking into the little hometown cafe, the aroma of coffee and fresh pastries made the need for conversation even more immediate. Still fresh on my mind, Layla. Her name made a warm shiver cross the back of my neck like goosebumps, but in a nice way. I realized I never introduced myself, and the moment of stifled conversation on my end started to take its toll on Layla; her bits of single sided conversation became less and less. I jumped into action.
“My name is Atlas.” Her eyes looked up to mine from the steamy brim of her coffee and the flakes of a Croissant left over on the table. “I’m really at a loss for words, I am more of a listener in a conversation. I have never been on a date before” I spilled out in nervousness, but still with a minor amount of confidence. “You are really straight forward, and I’m sorry for how I acted before.” I could see a grin spreading across her face, and a small chuckle slipped past my lips.
“He can speak.” she said following with her own chuckle. “Well it’s nice to meet you too Atlas. Kind of an odd name, but I like it and the honesty, although a little delayed.”
We laughed while sipping our coffee, despite her appearance she was quite pleasant. Her appearance wasn’t bad at least in her words, as I had made a comment on it, she mentioned her friends are so much worse and was absolutely astounded that he had never seen piercings and a colored tattoo. She found it odd, but I explained that I had grown up in a heavily religious gated community and only truly left the pool of the church when my father and I vacationed in Texas at a family estate. She asked for details on the estate.
“I’m sorry, it makes me uncomfortable to talk about it. Maybe another time.” I said sheepishly
“I understand, well if you have nothing else to do today. Wanna catch a movie?” Layla stepped around the topic. “Sorry, but I should be getting home. I need to feed my dog.” Atlas said, although it was a lie to set some unspoken boundaries; Atlas was horribly allergic to dogs and Mike had a traumatic experience with a serbian mastiff causing a mix of fear and hatred for dogs. All together that's why we got an apartment that didn’t allow pets whatsoever.
“It's all good, this was nice though. I hope we can do this again.” I said enthusiastically. A wide smile crept upon her face, she took my arm from across the table and a marker from seemingly out of nowhere and wrote her number on my arm. I shot a weak smile at her, and took the marker from her hand and wrote my number on the napkin provided by the barista. She got up and grabbed her coat from the back of the chair and walked out with a pep in her step.
I took my time getting home, stopping to get groceries for tonight's dinner. It was nothing special, just rice with stewed meat seared in a pan with butter sauce made from garlic, onions, Worcestershire sauce and an unhealthy amount of butter. The ingredients made my mouth water, although the end result made me sick. It was Mike's favorite meal and I tried my hardest to keep him happy. His rent money covered a portion of mine as I had been out of a job for a little over a month now. Working night security was easy at first, but as time went on, it had become difficult to balance a social life and work. I eventually fell asleep during my shifts, until one day a fire started in one of the server rooms. Prompting my supervisor to let me go. The termination hurt beyond words; My therapist had set me up with the job as a start to paying off my student loans. I felt like a failure, admittedly I realize there is a balance that needs to be kept in daily life. I waited for Mike to get home before I began to cook. He sat down immediately after slumping his way into the apartment. Shrugging off his bag, he turned to me in the kitchen.
“What’s for dinner?” Mike said in a tired and exhausted voice.
“Your favorite, I thought you would want it after last night’s gaming marathon.” I replied while searing the pieces of discounted meat in a pan he had gotten me for my last birthday.
“Yeah, thank you. Hey there was a letter in the mailbox for you by the way.” Mike said, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a crumpled envelope. I took it from his hands gently and smoothed out the wrinkles as best as I could. Sure enough it was for me, hand written without a postage stamp, so I rushed to open it. It was a letter from my father.
Dear Atlas,
My beloved son, I am sorry for whatever happened between us that caused you to distance yourself from your step mother and I. I would have said something sooner, but now is the best chance I will get. There are two reasons why I am writing to you today. Your grandfather has passed, along with Uncle Al and Aunt Melissa, in a grave accident caused by a drunk driver. Although your Grandfather was on borrowed time, I anguished over his passing along with your Uncle who I came to know as a true brother, and your Aunt whose flaws never got in the way of her sweetness and it will never be forgotten. As for the rest of the news, I will wait until we are in person as I fear you will be either delighted or dismayed by it. I will be attending the funeral at Sinn house on the 17th at 10 am, 4 days after the delivery of this letter. I hope to see you there, but I will understand if you decide against it. I love you.
Forever and always,
Mark Salotto your father
I stood there with tears in my eyes, choking back a sob. The smell of the burning meat hadn’t phased me until Mike sprung up from his seat to take the pan from the stove to the sink, and doused the small flames with the water from the faucet.
“Damn it, that was close. What’s going on? What does it say?” Mike let out with a sigh
“My grandpa is dead. My Aunt and Uncle too.” I let out in a whisper.
“Shit, I’m sorry man. Were you close?” he said sympathetically.
“Yes and no, we were close once upon a time. I don’t even remember what caused us to fall apart.” The sobs resided and the wet sound that came from my voice was quickly stifled after clearing my throat and wiping my tears away with the sleeve of my coat. I tucked the letter into the back pocket of my pants and went to bed. The exhaustion of the day finally took me away to sleep; my eyes soon became heavy with what I could only believe was grief. I spent my last few moments awake thinking only of nothing, I couldn't let my mind wander, the pain of that news was enough to send me spiraling.