The Difference Between Getting and Needing

t e n

less becomes more
'cause the weight is too heavy,
i swim in the water
that's breaking your l e v e e . . .

〰️〰️〰️

At quarter to six o'clock on Friday morning, I entered my apartment with Ziggy after our brisk walk around a couple of blocks. He sprung through the door first, frolicking all over the living room because he knew what came next. A treat.

I went to hang his leash on its usual wall hook right by the front door, but it appeared that I was taking too long because he let out a single, impatient yap.

"Hey," I barked back with a glare over my shoulder. "Relax, dude." My slightly harsh, chastising tone made him sit down and stare at me instead. I gave him a smile for his obedience, after all the hard work Gus and I put into training him, and said, "Good boy."

When I turned around, I wasn't sure what I was expecting to see. Gus was just getting out of bed when Ziggy and I left, since I'd woken up before him at a much earlier time than a typical day. I knew if I didn't get my ass up at the mere crack of dawn that we'd be late for the funeral, especially knowing Gus' tremendous tardy reputation. I wasn't about to let that happen.

Needless to say, I wasn't expecting for him to come waltzing out of our bedroom with his gym bag in hand like it was a normal morning.

My mouth fell open and an eyebrow shot up at the sight. When he noticed me, he matched my expression, but with a closed mouth and more of a clueless look. I knew right then he had no idea what was going on.

"What?" He finally asked, freezing in place.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" I demanded.

"Going to the gym," he said, every word enunciated as if that was making it easier for me to understand. He held his bag up as if to prove his point further, forehead wrinkled in perplexity at why I was so offended.

I shook my head and scoffed, wanting so desperately not to believe this, but it was Gus after all. Forgetful Gus who was in a hazy state of grief and misery.

"Don't tell me you seriously forgot about your Uncle Rodney's funeral today."

His face dropped.

It was likely just force of habit for him. Wake up, go to the gym, go to work. Those were his weekday mornings and even though we deliberately both let our jobs know on Monday that we were taking off Friday for a funeral, it still slipped his mind. To a certain extent, I guess I couldn't blame him. Death had a tendency to throw anyone off balance.

I considered that, I really did. It was a delicate time for Gus and me berating him over this wouldn't help. He hadn't been himself all week.

Keeping that in mind, I deeply sighed before speaking again. Tread lightly.

"We have to leave within the hour if we want to make it on time, especially because there's gonna be work traffic," I said calmly. It was bad enough the drive was going to be just over two hours without traffic, but with the AM rush hour and a funeral looming overhead, I knew it was bound to be a grim car ride.

"Fuck me," Gus groaned, throwing his head back as he dropped his gym bag to the floor. It took him a minute to look at me again, his eyes reaching mine but still seeming so unfocused. "Do you need to shower?"