Mutterseelenallein
Today was February 14th, Valentine’s Day. My official first day of freedom since the incident. I was excited to breathe fresh air, well fresh air that wasn’t limited by a 358 high-security fence. The air was crisp and cold, but better because I didn’t feel trapped. The sky appeared bleak from the unrelenting snowfall that started the previous night. I paced the lobby to stay warm; it wasn’t heated while waiting to be picked up. The two COs behind the desk bantered with each other and occasionally glanced over at me, making rude faces and laughing. I didn’t care too much; Today was my last day in this prison and they couldn’t take that from me.
The anticipation of my partner's impending arrival filled my heart with a blend of excitement and gratitude. Knowing that she would traverse the distance, driving over an hour from our city just to spare me the journey on a bus, brought warmth to my soul. She would arrive bearing the gift of burrito bowls and an assortment of snacks, carefully chosen to fuel us on our way back. It was a gesture of love, a tangible reminder that even in the face of my release, she remained steadfast by my side.
Yet, as the reality of freedom loomed before me, uncertainty gnawed at the edges of my thoughts. The prospect of reintegrating into society, and navigating the intricate web of social norms and expectations, felt daunting. While I counted myself fortunate compared to many other inmates, with a plan in place and the security of my own home and resources, the label of being an "ex-con" loomed over me like a shadow. The weight of a serious felony conviction, though unrelated to heinous offenses or professional misconduct, cast a lingering doubt on my future.
Education had bestowed upon me a solid foundation, a beacon of hope that I could carve a path of redemption. Yet, the reality of the prejudice and biases that awaited me hung heavy in the air. Would prospective employers, despite my qualifications, be willing to give me a chance? Could I overcome the stigma associated with my past? The nagging fear of how this would impact my professional and personal life seeped into my thoughts, casting a shadow of uncertainty over the road that lay ahead.
In moments of reflection, I questioned the choices I had made, including the decision to accept a plea. Regret occasionally nibbled at the edges of my consciousness, whispering its doubts and what-ifs. Perhaps, I mused, it would have been easier to remain within the confines of the prison walls, sheltered from the scrutiny and judgment of a society that so often deems individuals like me as irredeemable. The notion of being shielded from the world's harsh gaze, where judgment could only come from those who truly knew the weight of their transgressions, held a twisted allure.
However, as I stood on the precipice of liberation, I knew that the longing for freedom, for a chance to rebuild and reconnect, burned brighter within me. I yearned to defy the odds, to prove that rehabilitation and transformation were not merely empty promises. Uncertainty may cloud my horizon, but I clung to the belief that within the depths of human compassion and the resilience of the human spirit, there existed the potential for understanding, growth, and forgiveness.
“You must want to stay in here,” A CO mocked.
I didn’t speak.
They continued, “I mean if I was being released, I wouldn’t even stay in this building for another minute.”
“I’m just waiting for my ride.”
“You sure your ride didn’t stand you up?”
I ignored them. My partner wouldn’t do that. We talked about this day for a long time. About how she would wait for me and how romantic and ironic it would be that I was going to be released on Valentine’s Day. I knew she was coming for me.
***
One year had gone by since that day. The last full day we spent together. It was Summer, mid-July. I was partially sautéing shrimp, while my partner was chopping fresh veggies for tacos. I was sneaking an overcooked shrimp here and there, being careful not to get caught. She walked up behind me and slapped the fourth shrimp out of my hand and back into the pan. She cut her eyes at me and smirked, and I could only nervously laugh.
“You know we still have to make the tacos, right?”
I shrugged, “Yea, I’m just being quality control. Can’t serve our guests bad shrimp.
She rolled her eyes, “We can’t serve them air either-”
“We have vegetables and salsa, we’ll call it vegetarian tacos,” I interjected.
We stared at each other in silence before laughing uncontrollably. She turned the stove off and took the shrimp off the burner and away from me as we chuckled until our stomachs hurt, “I don’t think so,” she finished before reaching for a pepper grinder to add the finishing touches to the shrimp.
While I settled myself and went to wash my hands when the doorbell rang. It was likely Levi and Rahshiid, his boyfriend. I opened the door with my elbows and greeted them both with awkward, but comical hugs. They looked at my hands as they entered and greeted my partner with warm, normal hugs.
“What’s on your hands,” Rah pointed with his chin as he took off his shoes.
“Shrimp juice.”
Levi looked perplexed and shot looks at Rah and my partner. She shook her head and shrugged and helped Levi take off his jacket.
“I’ll explain just let me go wash my hands!” I jogged to the bathroom and washed as much of the ocean off me as possible and walked back out to my friends. Levi smiled and reached to hug me again following Rah grabbing my hand and pulling me in for an even tighter hug. Rah placed his hands on my shoulders and looked at me like a proud parent sending off their child to boot camp. I brushed him off because I knew where this was going.
“Stop it! Enough of that,” I said as patted Rah on his shoulder. “Do ya’ll want to eat or just stand around being lovey-dovey?”
Levi let out a light laugh and looked at the table, “The shrimp looks good.”
“Yea, you’ll love it, I-” I paused and saw my partner making signs at me from behind Levi. I didn’t understand and grew more and more confused looking until he turned. She slapped her palm to her face- and dragged it down.
“He can’t eat shrimp.”
I didn’t follow.
“He’s Jewish.”
“That shrimp is kosher I bought it from the market this morning.”
Rah laughed quietly and started helping set the table.
“Blair, market fresh doesn’t mean kosher, also it’s a shellfish.”
I looked around as everyone stared at me, “Okay, what does that have to do with him being Jewish, I’ve seen him eat fish.”
Levi walked up to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders and jested, “Would you believe, animals that live in water can only be eaten if they have fins and scales? This means that shrimps, prawns, and squid are not fish in the true sense, buddy.”
Luckily my partner had prepared a flounder in advance to make up for my shortcoming.
We gathered around the kitchen island, a trio of souls bound by friendship and the shared joy of a home-cooked meal. our hands deftly assembling the vibrant medley of tacos, a harmonious symphony of flavors unfolded before us. Levi skillfully forked tender flounder, adorning it with delicate drizzles of lemon and vegan crema. Rah, ever the connoisseur of taste, artfully warmed the tortillas on the griddle, their edges crisping to perfection. Their fragrant aroma wafted through the air, and then tore them apart, dipping each morsel into a creamy labneh. My partner diligently turned the shrimp. Its tantalizing sizzle punctuated the tranquil atmosphere, before divvying them up amongst the three of us.
Amidst the clinking of utensils and the mingling of aromas, we entered a wordless communion, each bite a celebration of friendship and shared joy. Contentment enveloped the room, casting a tranquil spell upon our gathering. Punctuated only by the rhythmic symphony of chewing and the satisfied hums that reverberated through the walls of our cozy abode. At that moment, it was a moment of pure serenity, where the worries and cares of the world seemed distant and insignificant. I reveled in the simple pleasures of life, a respite from the tumultuous realities that lay beyond our sanctuary. Life felt unburdened, as if we were suspended in a bubble of normalcy and tranquility.
As laughter and the chorus of chewing filled the air, a sense of regularity settled upon us, as though the world had momentarily suspended its chaos. My heart swelled with gratitude, for I had the privilege of having all my cherished souls in one place, united in laughter and the appreciation of a simple meal. It felt as though life, even if just for that fleeting moment, had regained its equilibrium, its familiar rhythm. It was a gentle daydream, a fragile fantasy that offered solace in its simplicity. Surrounded by the laughter and smiles of my cherished companions, I savored the taste of each bite, relishing the warmth that emanated from the dishes we shared. It was a snapshot of the ordinary, a glimpse into the comforting rhythm of daily existence that I had longed for during my time away. In that ephemeral respite, I allowed myself to indulge in the illusion of permanence.
In that idyllic moment, I envisioned the next day. Waking up, perhaps indulging in a lazy morning, devouring unnecessary amounts of sushi and hastily prepared microwave meals. Losing myself basking in the mindless comforts of television marathons was the defining essence of existence. It felt as though tomorrow would arrive just as expected, Life, in its simplest form, would unfold with predictable ease. Shared stories and unspoken affection. And in the warmth of that moment, I reclined in the illusion of routine, cherishing the taste of life's fleeting harmony. And in the heart of that stillness, I discovered solace and a profound appreciation for the ordinary rhythms that stitched our lives together.
“So why did you decide to turn yourself in?”
My sense of reality shattered, I opened my eyes and saw everyone looking at me pensively. I lightly smiled to pretend that that question didn’t throw me for a loop, “I…” I dragged out, “felt turning myself in would be less violent than having cops handcuffing me in front of my house, my neighbors, and my partner.”
Rah scratched the back of his neck and took a bite of his taco. The room was quiet again, “You know, either that or being picked up. Why not make it easier, maybe being compliant will get me less time.” I looked around at my friends hopefully. “Probably look better for my
appeal-”
“You’re not getting an appeal!”
Me, Levi, and Rah darted our eyes to my partner. She was gripping her fork tightly with tears welling in her eyes. She was glaring at me. I bowed my head to not meet her gaze and played with the food on my plate as I took time to find a response. Rah went to her and rubbed her back and offered her tissues, “Blair made an honest mistake.”
Levi nodded, “Yea, he wasn’t doing anything malicious he was just trying to help.”
“And it got someone killed, now he’s going to be a felon, and I’ll only get to see him every other week or month. I’ll be here by myself. Hell, my family and friends will ask questions and I’ll have to think of a convenient lie to excuse your absence. Like you’re in Bali doing missionary work, or in Guatemala. I can say you finally got accepted for your residency to get your doctorate so you’re in some random state. Only in 6 years you’ll have no Ph.D. or license.”
“I get it! I messed up! I just wanted to help, I just wanted to help someone. How was I supposed to know he would overdose when I told him to only take one pill three times a day, at least six hours apart? I was just trying to help. Ben told me he was depressed, and I saw it, we all saw it. He was getting worse! He didn’t hang out with us anymore, he didn’t bathe, eat, he didn’t get out of bed! I wanted him to feel better and he was starting to, I just didn’t think he would take three pills at the same time.” I pause feeling the tell-tale knot in my throat, “I miss Ben, just as much as all of you. I feel like I’ve let him down like I’ve let all of you down. And all I wanted was to see him smile again and give me some contemplative advice about my liver or something because I eat too much beef or whatever. I want Ben to be at this table with us.”
Everyone was quiet, I couldn’t tell if they were looking at me or not because I couldn’t bring myself to look at anyone. I watched a droplet hit the edge of my plate and roll into the center. I was crying. I was trying not to, but I never thought I’d lose a friend and have myself to blame. I haven’t taken my anti-depressants since that day, because I know if I do, I’d want to see Ben.
“Blair,” my partner started. “I understand that you’re hurting, I know this was never your intention, and I’m sorry for my outburst. I just don’t want to lose another person in my life.”
Levi added, “Yea, we support your decision, but it’s going to hurt to see you…” He swallowed deeply, “in there.”
I squeezed my eyes tighter trying not to cry harder.
“We love you, Blair.” “We’re going to be here for you, and I know you can get through this.”
“No matter how much time passes and the phases of the moon change, I will always love you, because seeing you is better than going to heaven.”
***
I waited for a long time.
I stood at the bus stop, my eyes fixed on the road that stretched into the distance, longing for the sight of her car emerging from around the corner. Imagining the headlights reflecting off the snow, I anticipated that moment when we would lock eyes, reuniting after what felt like an eternity apart. The quietude of the Sunday afternoon left the road deserted, but deep down, I knew that anyone approaching this way would be here to take me home. At least, that's what I told myself, repeating the assurance like a mantra.
As the sky gradually shifted from a cool grey to a warm amber, darkness descended upon the world. Evening set in, casting its subtle shadows across the landscape. Yet, I held fast to the belief that my wait would soon be over. I had made all the necessary arrangements, diligently notifying everyone of my impending release. Voicemails and letters marked my journey, each one a testament to my yearning to reunite with my partner. We had counted down the days together, exchanging letters and calls since I reached the thirty-day mark. She assured me she would be here, and I clung to her promise, trusting that she would keep her word.
In these extraordinary times, our decision had been made for the sake of safety and well-being. The world was gripped by turmoil, and we had decided it was best for her to cease her visits, prioritizing her health. Despite the physical distance, Rah and Levi remained loyal companions, bringing me sustenance and treats from her, bridging the gap between us. Our last encounter had been just two days prior when they arrived bearing Chinese food and a precious letter from my partner. Her words revealed a battle she had faced, falling ill with an ailment that weighed heavily upon her weakened immune system, worn down by dialysis. The news had shaken me, but the letter also carried hope. She described her recovery, her symptoms gradually subsiding, and her strength slowly returning. It had been fifteen days since she first fell ill, and her resilience shone through. Reports from Levi and Rah painted a picture of progress, her movements growing more agile, and the bloom of color returning to her cheeks. A sense of relief washed over me as I absorbed this glimpse of her recovery, holding onto the belief that she was indeed on the path to full health.
It was dark now and the blizzard had picked up, the wind was blowing so hard that the snow burned on my skin like it was cutting my face. I pulled my hoodie up and tighten it, so I looked like nothing, but nose and eyes. I hugged myself and started shaking my legs to stay warm. She usually has dialysis on Saturdays so she was probably still out of it, plus that drive in a blizzard can’t be easy, so I understood. It was snowing hard and the streetlamp over the bus stop was starting to flicker, I looked up at it and couldn’t see anything but the darkness of the night sky behind the torrent of wind and snow raining down upon me.
I sighed.
This has got to be the gloomiest Valentine’s Day ever. I can’t even tell what time it is. I couldn’t charge my phone in the lobby; all the outlets conveniently were faulty. I wish I could call someone, but I can’t go back to the prison and ask to use their phone, and all the money I have is in bills, so I can’t use the payphone across the street from me.
I started feeling around in my pocket for my phone and held the power button, hoping it would turn on for some reason.
Nothing.
I put my hands in my jacket pocket and felt a cylindrical object. I was a power bank. I was over the moon with excitement. I plugged my phone in and watched the battery symbol appear to let me know it was charging. I exhaled a sigh of relief and conveniently enough the blizzard slowed. I took that as a sign that things were starting to go my way and smiled as I opened my wallet to look at the Polaroid of me and my partner. I beamed with contentment, knowing that I had the honor of loving someone like her.
My eyes were starting to get heavy as the wind gently whirred through the streets. The silent, snow-covered streets. I looked at the streetlamp above me, it had stopped flickering and was emitting an amber glow. My eyes burned from how drained I was; I felt like I had conditioner in them. I looked down the street to see if any lights were coming over the hill by chance.
Nothing.
The sun hadn’t set too long ago, so it wasn’t that late. It’s winter so the sunsetting early undoubtedly threw my sense of time off; it’s probably only 5 PM anyway. It takes like an hour and a half to get up here. Especially with that blizzard, she was more than likely waiting it out to safely get up here. Shouldn’t be too long now. The blizzard continued, relentless in its fury, it felt as if the heavens themselves had been torn asunder. I sat alone at the barren bus stop, a solitary figure in a desolate landscape. Time slipped through my fingers like fine grains of sand, each passing minute etching its mark upon my weary soul. The bitter cold seeped into my bones, a persistent ache that mocked my feeble attempts at resistance. A veil of doubt descended upon me, casting its somber shadow upon my heart. Yet, hope bloomed like a fragile blossom in the depths of my being, refusing to be extinguished. I strained my eyes, searching the hazy distance for any sign of her approach, her car, praying for maybe the silhouette of her figure to materialize through the swirling snowflakes. But as the hours stretched on, my optimism waned, and the roots of uncertainty coiled around my heart, squeezing out the remnants of hope.
Fatigue gnawed at my spirit, its insidious grip tightening with every passing moment. My body trembled, as the icy touch of winter's embrace dragged its fingers down my spine. My fingers felt stiff, their dexterity being stolen by the relentless cold.
My jacket was starting to lose its purpose.
While a numbing sensation crept through my extremities, like tiny pinpricks of ice tracing their way across my skin, I thought about talking to her. My phone turning on and hearing her voice. The phone in my pocket, my sole connection to the outside world, remained silent and indifferent, its screen remained a void in slumber. My hand had a glimmer of warmth still emanating from the power bank that sustained it, yet it seemed a mere flicker in the vast expanse of this frozen night. My longing for her voice, her touch, grew with each passing second, but my phone remained an inert artifact, withholding its secrets.
Time froze.
The tenuous threads between my lifecycle and mortality shimmered like an elusive mirage, blurring the boundaries of existence. A spectral mist wove its ethereal dance, obscuring the path that lay ahead. The weight of lassitude settled upon my heavy eyelids, their gentle descent enticing me into a realm of uncertain slumber. With every ounce of strength I possessed, I waged an inner battle, a desperate struggle against the encroaching darkness that my eyes slowly embraced, but my body fought to reject. My resolve, feeble and fragile, strained against the relentless pull of weariness, its seductive whispers weaving an enchanting tapestry of respite. The delicate balance of my lifetime teetered on a precipice, suspended between the realms of subsistence and the unknown. My consciousness, caught in a delicate dance with impermanence, danced on the edge of comprehension. The prospect of her arrival, elusive yet tantalizing, lingered like a flickering candle in the dimly lit corridors of my mind. I yearned for a glimpse, a glimmer of hope to illuminate the murky depths of this wintry night.
Yet, as weariness washed over me like a gentle tide, an ambiguity settled within me, a poignant reflection on the transient nature of our existence. In that fragile state, the line between wakefulness and eternal slumber blurred, casting shadows upon me. As the curtain of slumber enveloped my weary gaze, I felt my being start to embark upon a spectral voyage through the labyrinthine corridors of dreams. The fleeting wisps of consciousness slipping through my fingers, the relentless march of time bore me away from a tangible realm. And within that final surrender, as my faltering breath whispered into the frost and my pulse waned to a melancholic murmur, the silent truth, like a phantom born of the icy air, unfurled its chilling tendrils. An ethereal pilgrimage began. The faded vestiges of my consciousness, time forged ahead with ruthless determination, inexorably separating me.
A falter within me, a whisper in feeble cadence, a truth long shrouded in enigmatic mist unfurled in the snow-laden air.
It’s irresistible allure, a clandestine journey.
A faded consciousness, adrift upon a river of ethereal currents, remained insensible to the relentless passage of time.
In a delicate ballet of fate, the phone, an unwitting accomplice to the cosmic symphony of life's bitter irony, slipped from the clasp of my pocket. It descended gracefully into the waiting embrace of the pristine snow, casting a delicate glow. Shimmering like a beacon of truth amidst the wintry tableau. And in that fleeting moment, as the snowflakes danced their melancholic waltz around the device, a chilling revelation manifested with stark clarity.
The frozen landscape was veiled by a shroud.
It was a truth concealed like a secret whispered only to the winds.
The revelation of absence, an agonizing void, awaited beyond the veil of my last breath. The cruel paradox of timing danced upon the backdrop of the blizzard. This carried on unseen currents as if a very essence brushed against me. And in the depths of that ambiguity, the realization flickered, an elusive ember in the recesses of silent thoughts, whispering that perhaps my wait, my yearning, would forever remain unanswered.
Her essence forever dissolved within the intricate framework of the universe, transcending the boundaries of this domain. The weight of her absence settled upon me, a bittersweet revelation that lingered amidst the falling snowflakes, a poignant reminder of the fragile transience of life. Multiple missed calls and unread messages stood as silent witnesses, testifying to the desperate attempts to reach me. And as the screen flickered to life, casting its eerie glow upon the hushed expanse, the words carved themselves into the depths of the terminal’s snowy afterglow, whispered in a voice that echoed through the archives of time.
"Blake didn't make it."
The End