Fools

Revelations

I didn’t like her not being there, avoiding me. I hated it actually. I hated being alone. I loved being alone. I couldn’t make up my mind. I am indecisive. I didn’t go to school. There were too many options and decisions for me to make. So I didn’t go. 

No one cared. Grace didn’t for obvious reasons. I was just a placeholder.  I lay in bed all day. Food was too much work. I drank the vodka under the sink. Florence did show up then to tell me that was a bad idea and to take my medication. That’s it though. I didn’t see her at all after that. 

I did take my pills though, mostly. Sometimes I forgot. My mind tends to slip away. Float away to somewhere else. I think of my mom a lot. What it was like with her here. When she was still here. Before she left. I didn’t like that she left me and dad. And then dad left. Just me here. All by myself. I don’t like being alone. I like being alone. People can be tiresome. People mean work, cultivation, too much.

“Trey? Wake up dammit boy.” My head jerks to the side as a hand shakes me roughly. “Wake up.”

“Yes, I’m up. I’m up.” I sit up, as my eyes begin to actually see the scene around me. Bedroom. Father in it. “Dad?”

“Why haven’t you been going to school?”

I bury my head into my knees and yawn. “Too much. I’ll go today.”

“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m home?” He asks me. 

“Pay Dr. Thompson?” I shrug. I don’t know why he’s home.

“I can pay Dr. Thompson from anywhere. Not that you’ve been going. Guess again.”

“Not going to school.”

“Not leaving this house for a fucking week. You haven’t left at all.”

I shake my head. “Yes huh. I went on Monday.”

“No. No you didn’t.”

“Yes.”

“No Trey.” Dad sighs. “You haven’t gone since last week. Anywhere. Haven’t gone to school, haven’t gone to your appointments, haven’t refilled your prescription.”

“No dad really. I went to school on Monday. I went with Florence.” His face tightened. I didn’t get why. “Really dad I did.”

He didn't respond. He walks over to the pills on my dresser. “I can’t tell if you’ve been taking them or not.”

“Yes  I have.”

“You need to go see Dr. Thompson.” 

“Why? Because you pay for it?”

“Because you need your Clozapine refilled. You need to see him Trey. Do you understand?”

“But why?”

“Why? Because this isn’t normal. This shouldn’t have continued this long. This isn’t ok. This isn’t normal.”

“Yes, going to talk to a doctor twice a week isn’t normal. Which is why I don’t get why I have to go.”

“No Florence. I thought you were…”

“She lives right next door. She’s nice. Red hair. Pale. Paint on her fingers.”

“No. No. No. No Trey, no. That’s not… she’s…” He dug into his wallet. He put a picture in my hand. A young woman smiled brightly in the picture, her arms wrapped around a little boy. “This is your mom. She’s not here anymore.”

“She died.”

He nodded. “What color is her hair?”

“Red.”

“What’s on her fingers? What was always on her fingers?”

“Paint. She painted pictures.” I say, remembering the smell of paints and brushes on canvas. I remember my finger paintings right beside her intricate landscapes.

“She did. Trey…Florence—Just go see Dr. Thompson tomorrow ok? Don’t miss your appointment ok? Will you promise me that? Please?”

“Yeah I’ll go.”

“Thank you. There’s food downstairs to eat. Eat something.” I nod. His hand rests on my shoulder for a minute, before walking away. I lay back on my bed and look at the ceiling. I hope Florence shows up soon, I want to see her.