S.I.C.K. TOO

Part two or three or four hundred

The infirmery sheets are crisp, almost like paper.

They are clean and inhibit my dreams.

I remember the day I left North Carolina for Florida. I sat down with my "friend" Malikai at a dirty little diner in north Durham for a three dollar and fifty cent lunch to break the news.
"I'm splittin' man."
"What? Yer what?"
"I'm splittin' man, this town is done with me. This f*****g state is done with me. Things have soured and I can find no reason to stick around."
"Well, you definitely burnt yer share of folks but you can get it back. You can get straight."
"The idea of that kind of effort is exhausting."
"C'mon man it aint that bad."
"It is that bad. Besides, I've come to develop a particular hated for everyone I come in contact with."
"Really?"
He wants the reassurance I"m not referring to him.
I give it but without sincerity.
The fact is, I didn't HATE Malikai I had just grown indifferent. He had become like the top button of my shirts, acknowledged and taken for granted. He was my left arm, bruised, scarred and a source of embarassment barely worth enduring.
He asks, "How long do you think it will take you?"
"Take me to what?"
"How long will it take you to make those tanned Florida people as disgusting as us?"
This is a good question.
How quickly would I be cursing tourists? Would I still be learning the street names? Probably within the week. Probably within the first hour!!
I was agitated, angry with myself because he was right.

I fold up my newspaper and throw it into the corner of the booth.
"I'm going."
"Of course you are."
"I have to pull it together."
"Of course you do."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if you havent noticed, people are staring. You smell and you are sitting alone, talking to holes in your arm. People consider that particular brand of crazy to be infectious"

"oh"
How long had I been doing this? How long has this been going on?

The thought now disturbs me.
I try to reassure myself

"I'm gonna get better.
I will be whole again."

As I exit, the diners return to their meals; chewing salisbury steaks, necks vicerated, food dropping back onto their plates before returning their mouths.

Endlessly and forever,

a macabre little joke I play on myself.

Reviews

[Clarisse Nanoit]

Wow. Pretty crazy little adventure. Ripped from the "headlines" much? Very nice, and adds to the story well. Keep me posted (of course). I love reading your work.
KH