Andrew

Somewhere over the rainbow, where funny scarecrows follow yellow brick roads, that’s where the tin man found his heart and the lion stopped being such a coward. I never wanted to follow the dick road. But, of course, innocence has a way of turning the cutest angel into a little slut. I remember shaking under the covers, a frail child of only ten when daddy was home from work. I was starving for attention; instead I got a punch in the ribs and a slap across the face.

Throughout my early teen years to adult life, I tried to fill in that gap that could have been love. I found sex to be my first real escape. Then the drugs. The first thing I learned was that in order to survive in high school and to get what I needed, I had to be one stuck up bitch. Still, there was something about me that others never understood, I needed attention. I craved it because I wanted to place myself there–where dreams really happen. If I had been more of an individual, maybe I never would have made it. My friends made me popular. They taught me how to paint my face and score the hottest guy on the soccer team.

That all was good and fun, until reality struck. I remember how much it reminded me of my father, the drunk who left me when I was fourteen. I may have been useless to him, but I wasn’t going to let another prick break me down. If only I had known how to defend myself properly, instead I crumbled into a pathetic piece of shit. After that, I really tried to change. I tried to stop being a fuck up. I needed more self esteem, and I had issues like that. I mean, granted, I was good at sex.

I just wasn’t very good at keeping relationships. So I started experimenting with drugs to fill that gap. It started with pot, pot turned me back into myself and I was back to experimenting with casual sex and parties. Then there was the infamous day when a friend of mine introduced heroin. That, feeling of un-worldliness and magic practically ruined my life. It was as if I had turned inside out, the warmth and emptiness was replaced by more sex, more pot, and more parties. Yet, although I could have said I felt pretty good, inside….I was just a clone.

I was accepted to Penn State University, and there’s where I met Andrew. I guess he was the first person I ever felt compassion for, in a way, so much that I couldn’t put it to words. We were total stoners then, but we grew up and he got his friends to help me quit drugs. I know that he loved me, in his own way before his mother OD’d on painkillers and killed herself. After that, Andrew changed. He stopped going to class, started partying, to him life was nothing more than parties and drugs. A litle game that we were put through, a joke that forced us to become animals. That’s what I thought i understood about him, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe there was more.

When I turned nineteen I had this major party, and I remember that although I worried he wouldn’t show up, he did. That night, when the other people were caught up in themselves, he proposed to me. I couldn’t resist. I said yes. The following weeks were excruciating. I couldn’t keep my mind off the impending life I was going to have, and the freedom that came along with it. Then, there was something in my gut- a horrible nervousness. I didn’t know why I was feeling so sick. Then I found out I was pregnant. When I told him the wonderful news, he reacted with an almost apologetic smile. But something was wrong, he seemed upset. Different, like a demon was stalking him, maybe it was the memory of that tragic day. Whatever it was, i wanted to help but couldn’t find the words.

I was in class when I got a text from a friend to leave immediately. I came to the apartment he and his friend shared, to find Andrew asleep…at first I was mad. What did you drag me out of class for? And then my friend stared at me and burst out crying. She lifted the blanket and I felt all my feeling leaving me. His skin was pale, deathly pale, was he dead? What the fuck, Chris? Why haven’t you taken him to the hospital? Christ! Call the cops. “We cant.” He said. I leaned over, still feeling queezy and scared and put my finger to his pulse, and it was then that i realized he was dead.

They say that the moment you die your life flashes before your eyes, well in that moment seeing Andrew there, my life flashed before my eyes. I couldn’t handle anything, and I broke down. I had an abortion. The doctors said that it wasn’t unusual for someone to go through so much grief, but the voices just wouldn’t stop….I could hear his breathing, breathing in my ears and feel him touching me. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, without Andrew. Then, one night I decided that I’d put an end to it.

-I just didn’t want to deal with it. I really was the slut in high school, it wasn’t me that had changed…and only Andrew had kept my worthless life from being so worthless. No, now that Andrew was gone I had nothing left to live for. I tried to get painkillers, then failed. So in a last pathetic effort, I got myself checked by a psychiatrist who happily assured me that I was crazy enough to need pills. I tried to wait a bit, but the more I waited the more crazy I felt. And that’s what it was, I was crazy right? Or was it Andrew that led me to them? I don’t really give a fuck anymore.

I woke up to the sound of his breathing. I woke up to the feeling of his loving arms wrapped around me. I was safe again, but it was in this dream that he told me. “Never Give Up, Jamie, Never give in. You see when I died I didn’t really die. I just left. Ok? But I’ll be back. I promise.” Please come back, I screamed when I woke up in the ER getting my stomach pumped.

Andrew did come back though, they’ll say I’m crazy for believing it. I remember I saw him. I really felt him, we had sex. Everything….really happened. Ok? But I can’t explain it to them, to you. Even if you force me to write this whole explanation so that you know why I’m crazy. It was Feb. 9 when I saw him first. It was a glimpse. The next day, it was very sunny and I remember that I got strange phone-call- breathing on the other end. Then I got a text, that scared me. “I’m here, Jamie”

I tried not getting paranoid, believe me, I tried to listen to them. But then I met him, in person, and that changed everything. He was there, really! He had aged just like me, then he described his theories of infinite universes, and the magic of memory. He told me that when you forget someone, that person forgets you, but when you hang on to the memory they never truly leave. He seemed afraid though, he told me that some people really did want to exploit this secret. That some people knew theories of everything beyond our understanding, they’d like to call themselves God. But what they really were, were the crackpot junkies who never really grew up. Because the day you finally got clean, was the day you finally understood.

It was then that he reached into his pocket and handed me something, it was our wedding ring–the next day was full of confusion. I refused to take the anti-depressants and so I was in an upheaval of emotions. Nothing felt so good, nothing felt so bad, but everything felt strange. Was I really losing it? I must’ve been, because I didn’t want to believe. When I woke up the next morning, things felt even stranger. It was as if everything was going wrong, and I knew he was right. I was in a time warp, everyone was in a time warp and everyone was trapped in their own mind…I had to get out. But how?

I’d stare out at the moon, so bright, and memories came pouring in. These memories were of other lives, other lives that I had forgotten…or had never existed in my mind until they came to life for me. Somehow, it all made sense to me then. I know this seemed ridiculous, but I loved the power….before your civilization tore me down. Now I can’t even dream without feeling the walls closing in on me. Yesterday, Tomorrow, Now, Never. It all makes sense to me now. I wished so hard for Andrew to come back, that he did. My wish was granted, and in the process I lost what little sense I had. I lost track of time, and I lost track of what really mattered most of all–I lost Andrew.