Bewilderment

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THE UNIVERSITY GAVE ME COMPASSIONATE LEAVE. After the funeral, after long days with Robbie’s relatives and everyone who counted us as friends, I felt no need to speak to anyone ever again. It was enough to stay inside, to read his notebooks and look through his drawings, and to write down everything I could remember about our time together.

People brought food. The less I ate, the more they brought. I couldn’t bring myself to pay a bill or cut the grass or wash a dish or watch the news. Two million people in Shanghai lost their homes. Phoenix ran out of water. Bovine viral encephalopathy jumped from cattle to people. Weeks passed before anyone realized. I slept in the day and stayed up at night, reading poems to a room full of sentient beings who were everywhere but here.

I didn’t answer my phone. Now and then I skimmed voice mails and glanced at texts. Nothing needed answering. I wouldn’t have had answers, anyway.

Then one day, a message from Currier. If you’d like to be with Robbie, you can be.