Neutrino Blues

Chapter IX

BETA DECAY

Matty

One day I woke up and Jimbo's eyes were staring vacantly at the ceiling. No movement, no signs of life.

- Jimbo?

No reaction either. I thought I was still dreaming but could not confirm or disconfirm that suspicion. May sound funny but I'm kinda rookie when it comes to dreaming. There's a few dreams that I can remember, like - ever. I don't normally dream or forget right away. Up until now I was living a dream but when it stopped, the dream subsided into my subconsciousness all warped and creepy, set on bringing me down. Was I awake now?

- Jimbo!

I got up and approached his bed. Is he dead?

- Jimbo...?

I tugged at his coat and he looked at me indifferently.

- You hear me?

- Yes.

- What's up, man?

- I don't know.

- You're weird.

- I know.

- But you're awake! Give me a hug, bro!

I hugged him but he was so unresponsive it creeped me out and I called the nurse. Maybe she'll make him more alive than this.

Does he remember? He didn't ask me what happened the way I expected him to, so either he remembers but says nothing or has no clue and doesn't care. One way or another, it's not the boy I used to know.

It feels strange being around him, he's like a robot. I'm hoping he'll get better once nurses and doctors do their mumbo jumbo or whatever and maybe in the meantime somebody will fucking ask him if he remembers anything.

They did. He says he doesn't remember but I don't trust him entirely. Why is he acting so weird? Is he still on drugs? Yeah, that must be it. Take care, Jimbo. You must get better. For you. For me. For us.

The worst thing about him now is that he's so eerily quiet and spaced out all the time. He's not the guy I used to know, all his energy and fierceness is gone, or hidden somewhere temporarily. Yes, that's what I prefer to think. It's not gone, it's hidden and waiting to resurface. I imagine he'll come back to senses once we return home. When the hospital ran out of options they discharged us and off we went.

It's the most boring and agonizing flight I've ever been on. I can't focus on anything so I fidget all the time and go to the restroom three times an hour just to take a walk. Jimbo, it was supposed to be alright once you woke up, but now it's even worse. Before something happens you can hope for all sort of outcomes, but once it's in front of your eyes, all the hope is gone. Game over. I don't even try to talk to him anymore because it depresses the shit out of me. I feel like I was talking to a stranger; not a rude one but definitely unwilling. Fuck that. I prefer to listen to music trying to ignore my inner musical drought and eat anything I can get to mask bad taste in my mouth. Still got some pills left but they're going and –

Now they're gone. I'm sitting in my house feeling completely lost, lonely and vulnerable. My first thought was to go and get some more pills but it's not the way and deep down inside I know it. I've seen enough people addicted to prescription drugs to know better. There must be a better way. I need to play again. Actually, it seems like I have to. In the hospital I was singing to myself and playing on whatever I could find like spoons, plates and mugs, but I was drugged so I was keeping it together. Now I'm falling apart and the only cure I know is to play music. If I don't, I'm disintegrating. It's scary and nauseating, unsettling and uncanny. I don't want to feel this way!