Finding my Happiness

Jazzy's Records

1 Month Later

I dove right into working....no days off. I didn't want them, what was the point when I was gonna be alone? Work helped keep my emotions away, I just wanted to stay occupied because if not, I know I'll do something I'd regret. Even tho we haven't really addressed it but knowing we need to, Cassandra often checks up on me after work to try and lighten my mood even after that blow out...it helps. Sometimes she spends the night with me and I am so truly thankful because grandmas house is painfully lonely and quiet now. After work, I go home and sit in the drive way, still waiting for her to appear on the porch with that glass of lemonade or tea, sitting in her rocking chair, looking so happy and content with life..instead, I'm greeted with over grown weeds and vines crawling up the steps, the shrubs and trees brittle and dead, no color or no life from lack of watering. I silently think how these shrubs are mocking me...no color..no life. And since grandma died, the house is slowly dying too. I just don't have the energy nor the will to make it look beautiful again. Why should I when I don't wanna be apart of it, be apart of THIS...I sit, looking past the snow, past her house that's unkempt...past everything. It's January and below freezing but I know the cold inside me, isn't coming from the outside....eventually, I get out of the car, after a long but much needed day at work, I enter the dark, lonely place I now call home and it's all mine, all mine alone. It's not even a home, it's just a place I rest my head at night. I run upstairs as quickly as possible, past the family pictures that ascend the stairs, memories of my grandmother and father whooshing past me, I can't take it. I run straight to my room and close the door. I don't leave out of here unless I'm absolutely hungry, that's rare tho, I hardly have an appetite. It's a good day if I even eat toast or some fruit, Pops couldn't even make my stomach rumble anymore. So I just sit in my cold, dark room, curled up under my blankets. I don't watch Tv, I don't answer any phone calls or notifications, or go downstairs to get the mail. I mindlessly start the bath water, not even caring to check the temp and undress. I shut it off and get in, I feel nothing as I submerge myself completely under the water. I stay there as the time passes, I don't know how many minutes pass but I always stay, even after I can no longer breathe, long after the bubbles stop...somehow I end up in my bed, I never recall getting here. It's the same thing everyday, I get in the tub and never get out but always find my way back in my bed. Sometimes I'm dressed, sometimes I'm completely naked, not even a bra or panties...now I just sit and stare at the man above me, who's voice could and always, pulled me out of the darkness but now he stays silent, no help to my life now. Nothing can help me..NOTHING. Sleep is what I need, knowing I wish it was permanent. This is my life now, my routine..work, bathe, sleep if I can, cry, sleep, work and so on. I look up at Michael one more time, hoping to get some answers, eventually, I drift asleep. Soon, the torment begins...I dream, always the same one. It starts with me finding my grandma dead, minutes before going to work. I remember shaking her, praying that this wasn't real. I knew with her condition she was going to die soon but not today...not ever. I wail, blood curdling screams and I rock her back and forth in my arms..there's blood all over the floor and I'm confused, I look to see her morphing into someone else..my dad appears in my arms and I'm drenched in his blood back at the crime scene, the screams begin again....I'm helpless, then the worst part comes, everything goes black and I'm sitting in what feels like water but I can't see...I'm too scared to even wanna know what it truly is. Then there's walking and I come face to face with the both of them, they smile and hug me, telling me everything will be ok and it's so nice and comforting but slowly the room changes and it's chilly, almost eerie...their faces distorting into evil sneers, long, unearthly mouths, too big for their face..they laugh at me, it's a wicked sound and the blame me, throw curses at me..it's all my fault they scream and it is, I know it in my heart and I can't fix it. I scream my apologies over and over, then the floor breaks open and down I fall into darkness, I never land, I just keep falling..soon I wake up from my nightmare, covered in sweat, my T-shirt stuck to me, my sheets covered in a sweaty outline, I hyperventilate, searching the mans face on the poster for any kind of relief, searching for that calm, that safety....but it doesn't come, it never does..I'm sick of this shit, I don't want to wake up anymore, not if I'm gonna continue feeling helpless and alone. I...Am...DONE. Jumping out of bed I rummage through my bathroom trying to find anything sharp. I open a drawer and find a pack of razors. I break one apart, sink to the bathroom floor, rolling up my sleeve and find a fresh place to cut, going past the wounds still trying to heal. The razor hits my skin, sharp and raw, I throw my head back, basking in satisfaction of the pain. Blood dripping down my arm, I place the razor on my skin starting a new cut until a small voice in my head tells me to stop. I don't know the voice and I don't care to listen, I begin again but this time, the voice is more persistent, growing stronger and louder urging me to stop. For a second I think I'm going crazy, wondering if it's just the loss of blood? I shake the voice away but it comes back, it's ringing in my ears, my head is like a wall and the voice is banging itself against it. "Shut up! Shut up!" I scream, my hands covering my ears. The voice slips past my hands dancing around my head, screaming. I can't take it, I race down stairs trying to escape but it continues screaming back at me and I don't know how to avoid it. I burst down the hallway until I trip over a lamp cord, falling onto my shoulder and causing a framed picture to crash with me. I sit up rubbing my shoulder as I look at the mess of shattered glass. I pick up the picture and of course it's a photo of me, my dad and grandma. I roll my eyes, my life will not become some basic lifetime movie where pictures or signs come right when you need it. But as much as I wanna fight against it, I stare at the picture, I'm sitting on my dads shoulders and my grandma was placing a kiss on his cheek. My dad had the biggest smile and I was making a funny face. We were so happy that day, not a care in the world. I just stare at it, hoping I could fall into the picture, back to that time. I shake my head, realizing how silly I sound then, I hear the voice again. Only this time, it's not screaming at me. Across the hallway is the door that leads to the garage. The voice tells me to go inside but I fight against it. I can't nor will I, go in there. I don't think my heart could take it. That's when the voice begins to scream at me again. Despite my resistance, I rise and slowly approach the garage door just to appease that damn voice. I jump up and unlatch the top lock followed by the two on the bottom. I grab the door knob but pause before going in. I remember my grandma giving me her last wish and I know I'm doing this for her. I place my hands on the door and rest my head against it, feeling the coolness from the other side. I take a deep breath, send up a silent prayer, and brace myself. I slowly and shakily turn the knob but quickly squeeze my eyes shut as the door swings open because I can't face what I've been hiding from. The smell of mildew and dirt hit me like a ton of bricks, rudely and unwelcome, invading all my senses. I open my eyes and as they adjust to the dim lighting, I see the place where my dad practically lived after work. This place held half his heart. Boxes are scattered everywhere, cords and amps look like they're apart of one big fire hazard, the sound booth was rotting away, consisting of mainly wood that was lying around
and styrofoam, microphones becoming rusty, as the outside elements slowly crept in. I feel a slight twinge of guilt and heavy sadness looking at this old place. It's in need of some serious TLC and I wish I never let my emotions get in the way of keeping this place up. I pat down the steps, walking deeper in, my eye catches the old piano my dad refurbished, it's just sitting in the corner collecting dust, spiders making a protective halo around it. I walk over and drag my hand across the top, leaving finger steaks in the dust, my hands trail down until they land on the keys, I press down harshly on a set of keys hearing the echo bounce off the walls and slowly making its way back to me. I close my eyes and smile slightly, the memories instantly filling my head vividly, I can't decide if they're welcome or not. I see him teaching me how to play the piano and teaching me about music. He was the whole reason why I wanted to be a music teacher, it brought me so much joy playing classics and writing my own, the joy and pride etched on my grandmas and dads face when I held private concerts. Now, I just wanna sit and rot away in my room. I wipe what I can of the dust and webs, off the keys, then the seat and sit down. Just as I set myself up to play Chopsticks, the memories all come flooding back and that's when I decide they're definitely unwelcome, his laughter, her snacks in between sessions, their smiles and I just can't do this shit. Yet again, I get up, running away from my problems. I'm just starting to walk away when my foot bumps into an old but familiar box. Looking down, I see faded pink lettering, some spots still with little remnants of glitter, etched on the side is, "Jazzy's Records", the box is so old and moldy. Over 6 years of sitting in a dark musty place. I hear my grandmas final wish once again but these records bring back too many memories that I'm not ready to face. I don't think I have the strength to do what she told me but something in the deepest part of my soul, the part that's barely alive but still there, takes over and I open the box to see all my records very much in tact. Some have a little bit of mold and dust and a little bit of weathering but they still look brand new. I gasp and look around to see if I can find the little record player anywhere, my eyes settling on a stack of boxes beside the piano. I go over and rummage through every box until I find my little record player, it looks like it's took a beating over the years. I try and blow the dust off, wiping a little and grab a random album from the box. I then search for an outlet but to be honest, all of them look sketchy and I'm scared to even try. I find one near one of the amps that doesn't look too bad and carefully plug in my player, placing it on top of the amp. I place the record on top, hoping it's his BAD album. Then her voice echoes through my head, "Let the music come alive as it always has and let it take care of you...please don't fight it when it comes, don't fight the healing process, I'm begging you baby. You won't be alone if you do that" a single tear falls as I put the needle on the record and Man in the Mirror starts to play. I slowly remember the feeling Michael always gave me, when I was down. Lately he hasn't been helping me at all, he's been as useless as everything else. His voice fills the room and I just cry and cry, remembering the day my grandma gave me this beautiful gift, remembering when we'd dance down our own Soul Train line...and now I have to be reminded that I have no one and a mix of sadness and anger replace the nostalgia. "Why?! Why God?! Why would you take everything I love away from me?!" I shout with hot heavy tears streaming down my face, needing to place the blame and giving it to him. "I just want to be happy for once, without fear that it will all be snatched away! Can you just please do that for me?! PLEASE!" I cry into my hands, submitting to the sadness this room envelops me in and then out of nowhere my record player falls, startling me, I step forward and it starts playing "You are not Alone", that wouldn't be an issue except, this song is definitely not on this album. Then the song switches to "Butterflies" again, another one not on this album. I begin to have a mini panic attack, positive I'm going crazy. I go to unplug the record player and a rush of different songs shuffle: This is it, ABC, Off the Wall, Dangerous, and Blood on the Dance Floor going back and forth between lyrics and beats. I slowly back up as the player over heats and shakes from the intensity of too many shuffling songs. Electricity begins to shoot out from the sides and the top, causing me to run to the other wall in fear. Then the music stops shuffling and ends up resting back on "You are not Alone" but it's going in slow motion making Michael's voice insanely low and monotoned. Then it abruptly stops. Like one of those dumb people in the movies, I slowly approach the malfunctioning player to inspect the damage, then out of nowhere, BOOM, a loud pop echos off the walls as the player explodes, smoke immediately filling the air and causing an electrical short circuit. "What theee actual fuck?!" I cough trying to fan the smoke away. I then carefully walk to the garage door to let the thick smoke out, putting out my hands to feel my surroundings. I reach the door and lift up from the handle, light from the moon instantly adding some much needed brightness. Snow swirls around my head, kissing my cheeks and sending a shiver down my spine, unaware before, that I'm still only in my T-shirt and underwear. I quickly turn to head back inside, making a mental note to call off for a few days to straighten up this room and bring some life back into it, I might as well collect those leave days, I can't think of a better reason than this. As I make my way towards the door something catches my foot and I tumble once again, falling forward but luckily catching myself with my hands, I turn back to see what tripped me up and instead, come face to face with someone way too familiar....