And Evaline, she says:
‘Who the fuck are you?’
And me, I know it’s not her. I know this, but still I say:
‘Evaline, It’s me…’
I pause.
Breathe.
Everything feels muted and gray. Everything seems slightly darker. Everything feels as if it’s shifted.
‘It’s Ellis. I miss you…’
And my words come out in an unsure croak that lets me know that my body and mind aren’t going to be getting along.
‘Who the fuck is Evaline?’
And I watch her face change again. Back to someone that I don’t know.
I stutter and stammer until words fail me and the man in front opens his mouth.
‘Jackie, call the police.’
And he’s calm and collected. He’s not bothered. There’s no reason. Things like this, they don’t happen. The routine is complacency. The challenge is in knowing how to react to anything that challenges this.
And Jackie, the girl who would’ve been Evaline. She’s got a flippant attitude and a puzzled voice as she asks what the number for the police is.
Because sometimes it’s easy to forget that the police even exist.
And I’ve got a full body panic as my guts start shaking and my head starts aching.
My hands sweat.
And the man who actually lives here; he’s telling me to stay put. He’s still scrambling to get the police on the phone.
My feet feel antsy and I start to wind up.
I need to leave.
And the man’s face, it pulls back. Further. Tighter. Higher. And then he’s Franklin.
And I’m not sure what to do.
‘Franklin?’
My eyes are wide.
My skin fills strange.
I keep searching for air. For oxygen. For something to keep me going.
I know this isn’t Franklin.
My eyes squeeze shut and then pull back open.
And it’s the stranger and his wife. But the apartment, it’s changed. It’s decorated.
The apartment is now the one that I lived in.
The decoration is all there.
And my body goes sick.
Spinning.
Aching.
Sweating.
This doesn’t make sense.
I just want Evaline.
And then she’s standing next to both of them.
Evaline and this strange couple. Suddenly yesterday and today don’t seem all that different.
I feel the panic in my gut begin to boil until I’m able to articulate the sensation with a primal sort of yelling.
‘Fuck.’
And I run.
The man, he tries to grab me. But he’s weak and scared and really doesn’t know much of what to do. This might as well be a movie to him. This might as well be the eight hundredth sequel to the same action franchise that he’s been watching since his childhood.
I move right past him with a shake and a twist.
To the door.
My hands fumble.
I slow down.
Grab the knob.
I’m out.
My feet hit the sidewalk and there’s a distant yelling as I tear out as fast as I can. Until every part of my body feels like it’s on fire.
My nerves are spastic.
I stop.
My hands go to my knees and my back arches.
I throw up.
It burns.
Everything burns.
My mind races and my eyes light up.
My head spins and my thoughts combust.
I think of the tape. The one with Evaline and the stranger. Lighting fires. Destroying old buildings.
Burning down yesterday.
Burning everything.
And my body is electric. Everything burns.
And then I hear a siren.
My legs hurt.
The world is a blur.
I want to be safe.
I want to be sound.
I can’t seem to get anywhere. I can’t seem to get away from the screaming sirens that chase me though this endless city. They whisper through the alleys and they dance down the streets.
People crane their necks and watch as I fall apart with each footfall. People point. They laugh. They stare. Some take pictures. Some people don’t notice me at all.
I run and the word runs around me.
I move past the restaurant where I had my first date with Evaline. I see her inside. I see her drinking. I see her waiting for me.
It’s not real.
Franklin drives by me in the car that I had borrowed from him.
It’s not real.
If lungs could pop, I’m sure that mine would. Instead they just ache. Instead they just tell me that no matter how good you make yourself look, it doesn’t mean that you’re actually in shape.
I’m false advertising.
And then I trip.
Stumble.
Prepare for the pavement.
When my face hits the ground I find myself laughing. Because this is insanity. Because this can’t be real. Because I’ve most assuredly lost my mind.
I flash back to the doctor.
He told me that things were going to get worse.
And I wish I would have prepared myself, although I know that I never could have.
The sirens keep coming.
