been there for days.
But what struck her the most was Michael’s face. He looked older, yes, but despair now filled his once vibrant eyes. Dark circles intensified their hollowness. Tessa couldn’t help herself. She ran toward him, throwing herself on top of him, and just as she pounced, she was back at Saylor’s side. Her cry of “Michael!” stuck in her throat.
“Sorry, Princess. No touching.” Saylor squeezed her shoulder.
“But he looks terrible. What’s wrong with him?”
“It gets worse.” The light in the room changed and the pile of trash on the coffee table grew, but Michael remained – beer in one hand, remote in the other. Only his clothes and the growth of his stubble changed. Every few seconds, another outfit was replaced and his face became more gaunt.
“This can’t be all he does,” Tessa elbowed Saylor.
“Of course not. Watch.”
Michael stood and stretched before clicking the remote one final time. The screen darkened. They followed him as he turned out the lights of the apartment and stumbled to bed. Like a film in fast-forward, Tessa watched him toss and turn through the night.
When sunlight bathed the room, Michael sat at the edge of the bed scrubbing his face with his hands. He seemed reluctant to move.
“Just getting out of bed every day is such a challenge.” Saylor clucked his tongue against his teeth.
Now Tessa understood Saylor’s comment about how sad it was. It was pure agony seeing Michael this way. She’d give anything to be able to throw her arms around him in comfort. Wasn’t death supposed to end all of a person’s suffering? Why did it feel like her heart was breaking into a million pieces? Not that she wanted to give up feeling anything for Michael. That might even be worse.
From a short distance, Tessa and Saylor observed as Michael went about his day. From the moment he walked out the door for work, through his commute, meetings at the office, a quick lunch, filling out paperwork and another meeting, he barely spoke to another soul. His coworkers watched him too, and Tessa could see the same ache for him in their eyes.
Back at the apartment, her heart leapt a little when the phone rang. Finally. Maybe it was a friend calling, someone to drag him out of this solitary existence, make him interact with other people. But her hope was short lived after Michael answered the call.
“Hi Mom.” He plopped into his spot on the couch and punched in the digits for the History Channel. “Nah, just watching some TV. Probably call it an early night.”
Tessa shook her head and stomped her foot, the green of her toes momentarily catching her attention. “Saylor, this isn’t like him. This lump on the couch, this mopey guy isn’t Michael. Michael is the life of the party. He loves hiking and camping –”
“Sold all his gear,” Saylor said.
She rolled her own eyes. “He has dozens of friends. Where are they all? Why aren’t they helping him?”
“He’s ignored them and blown them off for so long, most of them gave up on him. They had to. He was dragging everyone around him down. Depressing as shit when the person you love refuses to see how bad he’s become.”
“So he’s my unfinished business?”
“Must be, Princess.”
She faced Saylor and straightened her stance, hands on hips. “And how am I supposed to fix him? There’s no way I can make him happy again.”
Squeezing her cheeks between his hands, Saylor said, “Think, Princess. How does one person get over another?”
Even though her lips were squished together, she sounded perfectly normal when she said, “How? He can’t see me. I’m going to take a wild guess and say he can’t hear me. There’s not much I can do.”
“You aren’t completely powerless.” Saylor tapped her cheeks. “Go whisper in his ear. Tell him you love him.”
That didn’t seem like a very good idea, considering she needed to get Michael over her. “How is that productive?”
“Fine.” He blew his
But what struck her the most was Michael’s face. He looked older, yes, but despair now filled his once vibrant eyes. Dark circles intensified their hollowness. Tessa couldn’t help herself. She ran toward him, throwing herself on top of him, and just as she pounced, she was back at Saylor’s side. Her cry of “Michael!” stuck in her throat.
“Sorry, Princess. No touching.” Saylor squeezed her shoulder.
“But he looks terrible. What’s wrong with him?”
“It gets worse.” The light in the room changed and the pile of trash on the coffee table grew, but Michael remained – beer in one hand, remote in the other. Only his clothes and the growth of his stubble changed. Every few seconds, another outfit was replaced and his face became more gaunt.
“This can’t be all he does,” Tessa elbowed Saylor.
“Of course not. Watch.”
Michael stood and stretched before clicking the remote one final time. The screen darkened. They followed him as he turned out the lights of the apartment and stumbled to bed. Like a film in fast-forward, Tessa watched him toss and turn through the night.
When sunlight bathed the room, Michael sat at the edge of the bed scrubbing his face with his hands. He seemed reluctant to move.
“Just getting out of bed every day is such a challenge.” Saylor clucked his tongue against his teeth.
Now Tessa understood Saylor’s comment about how sad it was. It was pure agony seeing Michael this way. She’d give anything to be able to throw her arms around him in comfort. Wasn’t death supposed to end all of a person’s suffering? Why did it feel like her heart was breaking into a million pieces? Not that she wanted to give up feeling anything for Michael. That might even be worse.
From a short distance, Tessa and Saylor observed as Michael went about his day. From the moment he walked out the door for work, through his commute, meetings at the office, a quick lunch, filling out paperwork and another meeting, he barely spoke to another soul. His coworkers watched him too, and Tessa could see the same ache for him in their eyes.
Back at the apartment, her heart leapt a little when the phone rang. Finally. Maybe it was a friend calling, someone to drag him out of this solitary existence, make him interact with other people. But her hope was short lived after Michael answered the call.
“Hi Mom.” He plopped into his spot on the couch and punched in the digits for the History Channel. “Nah, just watching some TV. Probably call it an early night.”
Tessa shook her head and stomped her foot, the green of her toes momentarily catching her attention. “Saylor, this isn’t like him. This lump on the couch, this mopey guy isn’t Michael. Michael is the life of the party. He loves hiking and camping –”
“Sold all his gear,” Saylor said.
She rolled her own eyes. “He has dozens of friends. Where are they all? Why aren’t they helping him?”
“He’s ignored them and blown them off for so long, most of them gave up on him. They had to. He was dragging everyone around him down. Depressing as shit when the person you love refuses to see how bad he’s become.”
“So he’s my unfinished business?”
“Must be, Princess.”
She faced Saylor and straightened her stance, hands on hips. “And how am I supposed to fix him? There’s no way I can make him happy again.”
Squeezing her cheeks between his hands, Saylor said, “Think, Princess. How does one person get over another?”
Even though her lips were squished together, she sounded perfectly normal when she said, “How? He can’t see me. I’m going to take a wild guess and say he can’t hear me. There’s not much I can do.”
“You aren’t completely powerless.” Saylor tapped her cheeks. “Go whisper in his ear. Tell him you love him.”
That didn’t seem like a very good idea, considering she needed to get Michael over her. “How is that productive?”
“Fine.” He blew his
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