Five Seconds After the Flash

Chapter Eight

"October 3, 1988

Today I was thinking about the different versions of everyone. The doctor came to see me, because rumor has it I can get out of here in a couple of weeks if I continue to improve. I always put on a good face for the doctor, brush my teeth and comb my hair, give him the impression that I'm not losing my mind and whatever else he wants to know so that I can leave this place as a distant memory.

Around the other patients, I feel like myself, whatever that means. I feel like a version of myself that isn't pretending to be something else, I guess. There are patients here who seem afraid to leave, and I'm starting to understand that. Here, we are in a place that doesn't allow us the option to go back to our old ways of destroying our own lives. It's out of our hands, and we've already proven that we can't be trusted with ourselves.

When my family visits, I find that I try taking on the strong, caretaker role as head of household. That's difficult when I'm in such a vulnerable spot, but I still try to joke about everything like it's some big misunderstanding and that I really don't belong here. That's the version of me that I want them to see.

And then there's me when I'm alone. Some days I don't want to be alive anymore. I wouldn't say that out loud, because that's a one way ticket to spending the rest of my life in this place. But some days I truly don't see the point. My kids are embarrassed of me, my wife is fed up with me, so why even bother? They seem to be getting along just fine without me while I'm in here. Visits are fewer and far between these days, and I don't blame them. I'm sure they get just as tired of seeing the act when they're here as I am putting it on for them.

Still though, something keeps me going. Whether it's God, or hope or just the biological will to live, I'm not sure, but something gets me through every day and I just hope that the invisible force behind it doesn't give up on me."

It was Saturday afternoon. I was lying on my bed, reading a bit of Grandpa's journal before it was time for Andrew to pick me up for our date. Lydia had left for breakfast without saying a word, and I hadn't seen her since. We hadn't quite made up for the day before, so I knew that we needed to have a chat soon, but I wasn't looking forward to it. I knew I had messed up, and that was never fun to admit.

I hadn't spent much time thinking of my date with Andrew, so it surprised me that I was suddenly nervous about it. I really hadn't had much contact with him since our day date, so it seemed a little odd that I would be seeing him again. I remembered the way he had looked at me when we were sitting next to each other at the old warehouse, and I bit the back of my lip. 

He text me right at 6:00, letting me know that he was at the back door of the dorm. I checked myself a final time in the mirror, then took a deep breath as I straightened my black dress and tousled my hair just a bit before heading out the door. I hadn't dressed up in a while, and it felt foreign to me. I hoped I wasn't overdoing it.

I walked down the hall, down the stairs and to the back door then paused right before opening it. The metal handle felt cool against my slick palm, and I closed my eyes with another deep breath.

When I went out, there he was. He was dressed in a buttoned down green shirt with black slacks. His hair was styled, and he had grown out a bit of stubble on his face since the previous weekend.

My breath caught in my throat as he stared at me, and neither of us said anything.

"Wow."

I smiled and walked toward him.

"Wow yourself," I said.

We walked toward his truck, and I snuck a glance at him. His cologne hung in the air around him, and I relaxed at the familiar scent. I felt both out of my league and out of my element, but there was also a calmness that I couldn't explain as I watched the confident ease with which he carried himself.