Rewound {PTX}

Christmas

"Kirstie's going back to school next semester. She leaves right after Christmas. It's Christmas Eve Eve today. What do you want for Christmas?"

I want him to sing for me.

"Your parents are having you transferred to Arlington."

Arlington sounds nice. That's where Scott lives, isn't it?

"I'll come back with you. You're stable. You're doing a good job."

I am? I'm so proud.

"We don't have to keep you in the hospital much longer. We're all learning to look after you. You'll be able to stay with your parents."

I want to stay with Scott.

"I'm trying to get better for you, in case you can hear me."

I can hear you, sometimes. Sometimes I think I sleep through it, and sometimes all I hear are sounds. Sometimes my own thoughts don't have words. I like hearing your voice, though, even when I can't understand what you're saying. You don't have to make it better.

"I hope you can't. I'm always crying. I hope you're safe and sound, and your bet- your other Scott is taking good, good care of you. I shouldn't call him 'better.' You wouldn't like that."

I don't understand. There's no one better than Scott.

"I'm honest. I hope you don't mind. I know you, I think. I used to know you, anyway, and I know you wouldn't want me hiding it like they do. They say maybe you can hear me, and for my own sake I like to think you can, even though I hope for yours that you're forgetting about me in 2015."

Does 2015 come after Christmas?

"I'm so lonely without you, so I pretend, or I believe. But it's not fair to you that you can't reply, is it? So I'm trying to be better at listening. You would tell me it's not my fault. You would probably tell me that even if I crashed on purpose."

Of course it's not his fault... whatever "it" is. I don't know, but it's not his fault.

"And you would tell me to be honest with you. I always thought that there was just one thing I would have to say if I were completely honest with you, but look at all the things I'm saying now. I'm trying to tell you everything. When I say I'm trying to get better, I don't mean I'm just going to hide it from you. I really want to get better for you."

I want to get better for you too. I want to open my eyes for you for Christmas.

I have to practice. I have to make sure I can do it just right. While Scott's here, I just listen, but when he leaves, I begin. I've always known the first step, more or less. I have to start feeling again.

There's a blurry layer of fuzz wrapping up all the feelings. They turned it up so much once that I wasn't there anymore. They're turning it down now, though, a little at a time.

I'm not sure how much it hurts underneath. If I concentrate, I can kind of feel. It's more like I'm watching my feelings than experiencing them, though. It's hard to see anything but distant, blurry pain. I focus on it anyway and my beeper beeps a little faster. I wonder how fast I can make it go.

This is starting to hurt. That's good, right? I'm tired though. I'll keep trying when I wake up.

"Good morning, Mitch. It's 2012."

That doesn't sound right. I like it when Scott talks, though. I hope he keeps talking.

"I'm a little late, but I've decided my New Year's resolution is to make an album. You can be my muse. You've always been my muse. Now you can be my metronome too."

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

My beeper is gone. Now I have a clicker. One click. Two clicks. Three clicks. Four clicks.

The fuzz is gone too. Not fuzz, drugs. Anesthetics. They're gone. Thinking feels easier now.

Something disgusting floods my head and my clicker goes faster. Fear? Panic? Pain? Realization.

"Shh, shh, I'm here." He strokes my hair back and holds my hand. He's never done that before since I've been out. Why not? I squeeze his hand back.