I remember a particular harrowing incident. perhaps it wasn’t clear to anyone involved in my life at the moment but it was my head that was doing it. this was years before the second DUI, before the ankle bracelet, before the mandatory breaths. my partner and I, my now ex that just bailed me out, used to steal liquor from the hotel we worked at and sit on the beach and drink. tonight, it was everclear and slurpee. my choice.I had been explaining to him again, inexplicably, how death is following me everywhere I go and that I need some answers.
“What do you mean answers?” he asked.
“Answers,” I repeated, looking over at him. “About this.”
I was sloshing my slurpee and waving it around, emphasizing how great this all was before I just began charging into the ocean with my clothes on. I was always so sudden like that it was hard to keep a grip on me. My poor mother. I never forgave her for being so smothering of me but at the time, it made sense. She had to watch me every second or I would be off in the deep end at the pool with no water wings, climbing the high dive, climbing the giant slide, hobbling to the lake with my sprained ankle.
“We cannot keep you away from water,” she said dragging me into the house after I had jumped head first into a mud puddle after a bath. “How did you sneak out?”
I was up to my thighs hearing my partner call for me, worried tone, anxious and alone on the blanket. I kept walking until it hit my waist and then my chest and heard him screaming. I didn’t want to come back that night. The waves were quiet and the tide was relatively low. I walked up to my neck and then let my head go under, my partner screaming in the background. No, the first time I asked nature to take me was not the night I totaled my car. When I went to get it from the impound lot thinking it was still driveable, they all looked aghast by my question.
“Can I drive it out of here?”
“Ma’am, you’re gonna have to tow it out of here. The entire front end is demolished, shot. There is battery acid all over the car.”
“But will it start?”
He took me to look at it and I cried. It had been a nice car.
“The airbags didn’t deploy though,” he said as if it had a meaning I understood.
Gritted I was and trying to hold back temper, “Well that means I just fucking hit my head harder.”
“You’re gonna have to tow it,” he walked away, uncomfortable.
But to where?
“How to forget everything day 64”