You're Gonna Miss Me When I'm Gone

Show Me

Enzo woke up from his unrestful sleep on the chilled wooden floors, his head feeling as if it would pop at any moment. Thick condensation clung to his short jet black hair. He wiped the crusted drool off his stubbled chin and slowly willed himself the energy to stand on his own two feet. He latched on to the door frame commanding his body move, but it didn't. The searing white pain that shot through his body mere hours ago was now a dull pang that he felt with every breath he took. The walk to his bed felt like running five miles....uphill...wearing jeans.... in 108 degree weather. The internal fire consumed his body and gave him the power to drag himself to his bed. Enzo threw his whole body onto the bed. A high pitched whine escaped his lips when his naked thighs came in touch with the cotton sheets. In a matter of minutes Enzo had worked himself up the bed close enough to riffle through his bed side drawer. Lotion. Chap-stick.Tissues.Old Drawings. Not what he wanted until his hand grasped at the roll of gauze. He rolled over with his back pressed into the pillows for support and tore off a large slice of the body tape. He wrapped his legs in the thick slimy material and pulled it tight. He double wrapped both legs to prevent chafing . When Enzo finished he tossed the tape on the ground and admired his handi-work. He bent a leg to test the pain. It was better but still hurt like a bitch. He figured he would be able to get around today, but seeing as the time read 9:46 he figured school was out of the option today. Now that he thought about it, it was Wednesday. Neither of his parents had come to wake him up. His question had soon been answered when his mom; a jovial woman with a wrinkle for every year she was alive and about the height of 12 year old girl burst through the room with a plate of some foreign food and a cup of milk. The caramel skinned boy quickly pulled up the blankets to cover his naked legs and hide his bandages but his mother must have not seen them. 

"

Enzo, instantly knowing what she thought he was doing turned wide eyed. "No mom! It reeaally isn't what you think." He emphasized the "reeaally" in his sentence to get his point across but his mom was already out the door.

"Umm.. breakfast will be down stairs!" she hollered from the hall. "Come down when you are....finished with your little experiment!" she hollered again.

"Ughh mom!" Enzo screamed at the older woman. "It really is NOT what you think!" He sighed knowing his mom would never believe that statement.

".......Ok!" she replied. "And get dressed too! You have an appointment at 11:00"

It was the appointment. In freshman year of high school, Enzo ran through a depression streak. Grades, friendships, and love had all formed to create for a less than acceptable high school experience. When the school counselor called and told his mother about the single failing grade Enzo had in Geometry his mother did what any overprotective and over involved mom would do. She signed him up with a psychiatrist. He never and still to this day didn't understand the point of these petty appointments. The doctor would ask the same questions every time. "How are you feeling?" "How is school going?" How is your social life?" and so on. And Enzo answered the exact same way he always did. By not saying a single word. He sat in the chair, arms folded and head cocked with a dead expression on his face. The doctor would repeat the questions before asking "do you have anything to say?" The doctor would then close his book silently, dust off his black coat and go into the waiting room to talk to his mom. He would whisper words and she would nod. Their conversations typically ended with a prescription of Xanax, even though this drug was not intended for those under 18. His doctor claimed Enzo had "Severe depression" and was "borderline suicidal".Enzo would leave the room shortly after he knew his doctor and his mom stopped talking about him and not say anything until the car ride home in which he would rant to his captive mother for the next 30 minutes telling her how bizarre and pointless these appointments were. She would smile and nod only interjecting a phrase every few minutes to make it seem like she cared when in actuality she didn't. Enzo would continue to go to these appointments until the day he moved out of the house. Enzo would leave feeling less than better and come home with an extra bottle of pills.

Enzo finished dressing in his grey joggers and a maroon hoodie. He would need for the nippy weather outside. His town was gearing up for the weather and he was less than pleased with this. The winter always brought negative thoughts with it. After he quiffed his puff of hair into something that looked like frosting on a cupcake he trotted down the stairs to meet his mother only mere minutes after their encounter. She smiled, but would not meet the adolescents hazel eyes. He stared at her as she tried to find every reason not to look at her son. In this moment the continence of her purse and the scrunchies on her keys was just about the most interesting thing she had ever seen. The frustrated boy rolled his eyes and made a v-line for the Mustang that sat in their garage. He hauled open the passenger door and closed it shut. He put his hoodie on and closed his eyes waiting for his mom to get in the car. The car door opened and shut signaling that his mother was in the car. She laughed with mock happiness in her voice before asking, "Who's ready for therapy? I think you are!" With that she revved the engine to life and we sped out of the garage and down the road. TO my demise I was sure.