Black Lotus

9 - Out Of Touch

July 7, 2016 | Thursday

I burned my navigator's journal.

My thoughts didn't feel important or relevant anymore. At least not at this point. One thing I always hoped that my words would do was protect me, but I had been very mistaken. It seemed like they did the exact opposite. If I hadn't been writing in my journal a month ago on my porch, I probably wouldn't have met Max, he wouldn't have taken the bullet for me, and problems with this stupid neighborhood gang would be nonexistent. Therefore, Ocean would still be alive. My mother wouldn't hate me right now. It was all that simple.

"That's not true. Perhaps that outcome couldn't have been avoided."

I was talking out loud?

"Yeah, and you still are."

"Why do you care?" I had gotten control over my voice back. The stranger sat next to me on the small park bench and said he wasn't exactly sure.

"Maybe I'm interested in why a kid is sitting in the park and talking to herself on Thursday afternoon at 2:00. Doesn't seem normal."

"Well, I'm not normal. And I never will be."

The stranger changed the subject, most likely to avoid the awkwardness that comes with conversing with somebody like me. "Who's Max? He seems to have caused you a lot of problems."

"He's my boyfriend, and he hasn't caused me any problems, actually. It's just that after I met him problems started to arise, somehow. If I'm going to be real with you, 99.9% of the problems I have are my own fault," I sighed.

"Or," the sound of his voice got a little deeper, "you're so used to taking the blame for others that you've created a natural defense mechanism for those you care about the most. Max for example, you probably think he has never done you wrong when he somehow has."

"Sir, are you some kind of psychologist or specialist? You lecture like a college professor."

"Well I'm not a psychologist, but my wife is. So I pick up on stuff like that. However, I am a college professor. I teach history classes at NYU."

I didn't know what to say about that, so I said, "Oh."

"You know kid, you remind me of a dear friend I used to have. Haven't spoken to her in years too. As a matter of fact, you kind of look like her."

"What was her name?" I asked out of curiosity.

"Brandy."

I laughed. "That's actually my mother's name."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "What's her last name?"

"Evans. But her maiden name was Sailes."

"Your mother wouldn't be by any chance deaf, right?"

"Well, she is but she has cochlear implants. So she can hear normally... You know my mother don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. She was like a sister to me."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Sincere. Has she ever mentioned me?"