Chasing William (12 page)

I don’t know how I’m going to eat any more
food today. I’m just going to have to stick to sides and sodas. As
long as I get my cookie. That’s the important thing. But I
shouldn’t be thinking about food. I should be thinking about
William and how I feel guilty about it. I’m sure I’ve felt some
kind of irrational guilt over it. That sounds like something I’d
do. Why is it so difficult to remember how I feel about things all
of a sudden?

I felt guilty at the funeral. Well, maybe
not guilty exactly, but I thought everyone was blaming something on
me. They weren’t, at least not out in the real world, but in my
world everyone was blaming me for his death. I think I blame myself
a little. I mean, what if it was something I could have stopped? I
might have been able to say something or do something differently
and change the course of the universe. The universe wasn’t speaking
to me. Maybe this was why. I hadn’t done something I was supposed
to and someone who wasn’t supposed to die, died. It’s not like I
actually killed him and I realize that, but what if I’d stayed with
him for one more hour, or not seen him at all, or called him before
I went to bed? There were so many things I could have done
differently. I wish I could go back in time and try out each
different scenario, just to see how things change. See if there was
any way he’d be alive now. I guess I’m not the only person to wish
something like that, but I do wonder if there’s anyone out there
who wishes it more devotedly than I do. I don’t think there is. If
willpower and wishes could change the world. William would be back
from the dead ten times over by now.

My GPS yells at me and I turn off the
highway. This time it’s not a Chinese food stop. My car needs to
eat too. I’d almost forgotten about gas. I never have to stop in
the middle of a trip to fill my tank normally, so it isn’t in the
front of my mind. If it hadn’t been for the cute little gas pump
showing up on my GPS screen, I would have just driven around until
my car stopped. I’d never say this to my parents (or anyone else),
but I’m not sure I’m ready to be out in the real world on my own. I
thought I was. I really did. William’s death changed things. It
made the “real world” real. I don’t like it. People my age dying is
difficult to make sense of, but people my age
who I love
dying --- it’s just a miracle I’m still functioning.

I always hate getting gas at strange gas
stations. I’m always worried about the other people there. I mean,
if something were ever going to happen to me, it would happen at a
gas station. They seem like the perfect place for sinister things
to start, or the background for an opening scene in a horror movie.
Sure, they only really seem sinister at night, but anything
sinister at night has to be somewhat sinister during the day. The
fact that this gas station is right off the highway and deserted
doesn’t add to its safety appeal, but the pumps are on and I’m not
in the mood to travel anywhere else. Besides, this place is closest
to my next Chinese place. I slide my card at the pump, fill up, and
leave without anything out of the ordinary happening. I’m a little
disappointed. I was hoping something would happen to make things
different. I’m not sure why I thought that, but at least I still
have hope.

The next Chinese place is called “China 1”
and yet again it is sandwiched in a strip mall, this time between
some kind of 24-hour gym and sub shop. It’s a strange
in-between-meals time so the place is empty, but the inside can
probably only hold about five people. They have watercolors
covering the walls showing different landmarks of China, and even
the tops of the tables seem to be hand-painted. I like it. The
place has real character.

“You ready order?”

I turn back to the counter and finally look
at the menu. Everything looks good but I don’t feel like eating any
of it. I have to buy something to get a fortune cookie, though, and
that’s the whole point of the trip.

“Um, just an appetizer order of egg rolls, a
large soda, and a fortune cookie.”

“That all?”

“Yeah.” I hand the woman some cash and she
goes in the back to cook the order herself. Egg rolls are usually
better cold anyway in my opinion. I figure I can just stow them
away somewhere in the car and snack on them later. I can always
bring them to my aunt’s house. Last time I checked, her son, my
cousin, had an iron stomach and would eat anything. I’m not sure
how old he is now. He may not even be living at home anymore. I
guess I’ll be finding out soon enough.

The woman comes back with my egg rolls
wrapped up in what looks like rice paper, and hands them to me with
a fortune cookie and an empty cup. I am thirsty. I should have
filled up a couple of water bottles before I left. I’ll remember
for next time (not that I’ll ever be taking a trip like this
again). I don’t think I’ve come too far with the guilt stage. There
are so many “what-ifs” I could drive myself crazy thinking about
them. Maybe there was something I could have done to keep him
alive. If I’d known, I would have done it. I don’t think anyone
would argue that, at least not anyone who knows me. If I could have
kept him alive I’d go back in time and do anything. Maybe thinking
about all those what-ifs is a different kind of guilt.

I slump into the driver’s seat and crack
open my fortune:

“Think about a problem is not solving
it.”

Well, it isn’t exactly a fortune, but at
least it applies to my life. I can’t tell if the universe is coming
around or if it’s just stringing me along. I guess the optimistic
answer would be that the universe is trying to tell me not to give
up. I like that perspective the best, but I haven’t been the most
optimistic person in the world recently.

“
Emotions consume. Empty
yourself.”

Anger is easy. The hard part is trying to
figure out who to be angry with. I’ve been angry at my parents a
lot the past few months, but I don’t think all of it was because of
William. I’ve heard I’m supposed to be arguing with my parents more
because I’m leaving soon, but I don’t know if that’s all it is
either. I mean, I’m not even sure I will be leaving home after this
year. Nothing is really making a lot of sense. That makes me mad
too, at the universe and everyone else who seems to understand how
it works.

I’m angry with Amanda. If I ever needed a
friend, now would be the time, but she’s decided to take off and
make things worse. If the situation was reversed I’m not sure what
I’d do. I like to think I’d be the bigger person, even if we were
in the middle of the fight-about-nothing that’s going on now. I
hope I would be there for her and put things aside to focus on
what’s important. In reality though, if it had been Jake instead of
William, I’m not sure I would have done that. I’d probably be
handling it the same way Amanda is now. Well, I wouldn’t have
written anything like what she put on the Internet, but everything
else. I’d wonder why she was acting so differently and think she
was making a big deal out of nothing. If it had been Jake instead
of William, I wouldn’t understand. But I’m still so angry I can’t
help but hate Amanda. I hate her for all the things she didn’t do,
even more than the things she did. She could have been here with
me. We could be having a girls’ trip and figuring things out
together.

Of course, if Amanda were here she’d be
giving the orders and I’d be footing the bill. Not exactly the trip
I want. It’s weird. I know I’m better off without her, but I’m
still angry she isn’t here. She shouldn’t be able to abandon me
even if I don’t know whether or not I want her here.

I’m angry at William too, maybe more than
anyone else. People always say not to speak ill of the dead, so I
haven’t really thought about all the bad things since he died. But
this is all his fault. I mean, it’s not exactly like he had cancer
or something. He could have prevented all this from happening just
by making some better life choices. He could have kept himself
alive for me.

The son of a bitch. He spent all that time
telling me how he’d love me forever and stay by my side. Bullshit.
If he had wanted to be with me forever, he could have been. He’s
the one that messed it all up. It wasn’t the universe or the
fortune cookies. It was all a choice. He had a choice , and he made
it, again and again. So what if he finally went to ‘‘That Place?”So
what if he wanted to make things right? So what if he wanted to
build us a future together?

He could have kept this from happening. He
is the one that threw me and the universe out of whack. He ruined
my future. He’s the reason I’m here all alone.

I’m crying tears of rage and the rational
part of my brain is telling me to pull over. The rage part of my
brain (whatever the technical term might be) is telling me to hit
the gas and just
Go
.

Luckily for me and my car, the GPS chirps
before either one of the sides can take over, and I turn off to
head to the next fortune cookie. I make it there in one piece, but
I’m shaking so much I’m not sure how I managed to hold onto the
wheel for this long. My stomach feels sick but I don’t want to get
out of the car. I pull my legs up into my chest and try to hide
from the world as the tears finally come in full force, a mix of
rage and depression.

How is it possible to hate and love someone
this much at the same time? It’s not fair. I don’t want to feel
anymore. I give up. I quit. Just let the world stop. Life isn’t fun
anymore.

I’m not sure how long I cry, but I do know
that the parking lot isn’t empty. I don’t want to think about all
those people who are watching me have a breakdown. They probably
think I just got dumped, or found out I’m pregnant, or both. Either
option seems better than whatever the hell this limbo is. The tears
start to slow and I’m too tired to summon anymore. I’m exhausted
and still have four hours to go. I hate this. It’s going to start
getting dark soon and I’m probably not done crying. Crying always
makes me tired. It wears out my eyes.

I drag myself out of the car and into the
next Chinese place. I am in no mood to deal with humans right now,
but I go in anyway. I should have used the drive-thru, although it
doesn’t look like they have one) or called in a carry-out order and
spent as little time inside as possible. I know this as soon as I
get out and walk to the door. I’m looking for a fight. Every cell
in my body is tense and ready to snap. I just want someone to say
the wrong thing so I can let everything out. This is not the mood I
should be in before going into a public place. I feel like one of
those people who goes shopping just so they can yell at the sales
associates.

I push though the door anyway and walk to
the counter.

“I’d like to make an order!” I bitch at an
elderly woman who is standing in the back room. She looks too old
to actually be working,but she’s the only person I can see to yell
at.

“Sorry! Didn’t hear you.” A young Asian girl
comes running from a back room somewhere to the counter.

I assume this is the granddaughter,
family-run restaurants are the best. Too bad I’m in no mood to
enjoy the place.

“Is all your staff infirm?” I don’t know
where the words are coming from. It’s this all-consuming rage
talking. I don’t feel like I have control of my mouth anymore.

“Your order, ma’am?” The girl is trying her
best to be polite. I beg for her efforts to turn my heart back to
normal,but I just get annoyed.

“Egg rolls, large coffee.” I don’t even look
at her.

“I’m sorry, we don’t have coffee. I could
make hot tea for you, though.”

“If you can make tea then you can make
coffee.”

“Ma’am, we don’t have coffee. It’s not on
our menu. There’s a gas station acro…”

“If I wanted coffee from a gas station,we
wouldn’t be having this little debate.”

“I am sorry.”

“Fine. Egg rolls.” It’s like I’m looking out
through my eyes but something else is controlling my body. I want
to break down, cry, tell her I’m sorry. But I can’t get my mouth to
do what I’m thinking. Instead I pay for my egg rolls and toss them
in the trash as I walk out. There was a fortune cookie with them,
but I smash it while it’s still in the wrapper and throw it out
along with the rest. I hate everything. I hate myself. I hate
hating everything.

I sit in my car and try to figure out what
to do. I drive to the gas station and get some coffee. Hopefully, I
can make it to Minnesota in one piece. The anger has started to
drain. I make a mental note to never try and make myself angry
again. Too dangerous.

“
Do not ask.”

I realize bargaining isn’t exactly an
emotion, but it seemed so important on the little list thing that I
didn’t want to leave it off. When people talk about the stages of
grief they always get around to bargaining, who knows why I guess
we’re all just hoping death is negotiable. Now, I don’t really care
why bargaining is on the list. I’m just glad I don’t have to feel
anything for an hour. I mean, obviously I’ll be feeling something,
but regular emotions are a lot different than these one-hour
concentrated emotions. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to
hold out. Bargaining seems like a nice break from exhaustion and
tears.

I’m not really sure how to start the
bargaining process. Who am I supposed to be bargaining with? God?
Maybe, but I’m not sure what good that will do. I guess I believe
in God, if only because that’s the only belief that will let me see
William again, but I’m not sure I want to talk to “Him.” I don’t
believe in that kind of God. God’s never shown much interest in
talking to me and I’m not too crazy about talking to Him. The only
thing that’s ever seemed to make sense are the fortune cookies
(crazy, I know) but I can’t exactly bargain with a cookie. That’s a
little farther over the crazy line than I’m willing to go. I have
to stop somewhere.