Me, Myself, and I

the death of hyperfixation

The slamming of a car door brought me out of my daze. Kyle waved at me from his red convertible, and I realized that my front door was once again wide open. I cursed under my breath, ignored the pecks of rocks against my feet as I sprinted towards him, but he reared back, zipped the car towards the pavement.

I searched my pockets for something to throw at him. If only I had my shoes.

"We had a deal!"

He blasted his music out the open hood, the vibrations carrying off as he zoomed towards the falling sun. My gums had grown numb from grinding my teeth together. Towards the sun. I knew what was towards the sun.

Kyle was going back to the hospital.

What did he want with that file? What name had struck such a strong chord that he felt the need to heighten our felony to new extremes? No. I needed to think about Alex. No, didn't like that. Ben, I needed to see Ben. His hospital room. If Kyle wouldn't take me to it, I'd find him myself. That's what I would do. I stepped back inside to cool conditioning of our home, pacing the living room carpet as I phoned up the first name that came to mind.

"What do you want?" Brooke said.

My pacing halted when I realized I hadn't put my shoes on the mat. I marched to my bedroom. I spoke soft, "I need a ride."

"I'm not driving you back to that hospital."

The phone clicked. Alex must've gotten to her first. Or did he? No, she was refusing of her own volition. Because she would've been groaning about our breakup by now, told me why I had caused a hundred percent of its outcome. My breakup. Because that's what I was now. Someone's "ex", a past relic in someone's life. His Audi disappearing in the distance as if nothing had mattered. Severed in a moment. I shook my head.

My shoes were not in my bedroom. I tried the bathroom rug next.

If Valerie was here, she'd have driven me without question. Austin too. I don't know if that said more about them, or how I'd treated them. Ben was right.

My shoes were under the kitchen table. I paused midlace. My green car was idle in the garage, still out of commission. It was already getting dark; when I closed my eyes I could see the picture of me "last seen" before the big kidnapping ruse. No, I would not walk to the hospital. The circumstances couldn't be that dramatic. But as I scrolled through my contact list, I already heard the conversations in my head, the pep talks, the interventions. Just wait a little longer. You let Kyle do what? Your boyfriend just broke up with you. Chew on that one for a while. I stared out the window again, thought about my car casting a shadow in the garage. The picture on my contact list that looked like a cotton candy swab wearing giant black shades.

The idea had planted itself. I finished lacing my shoe and let myself outside.

I popped open my car hood, stared at the unfamiliar shapes and objects, at a few abandoned tools hanging along a couple nails on the garage wall. My phone. I clicked the cotton candy picture and put the phone on speaker.

"Oh my gosh, hiiiiiiii," Valerie chirped. Something plopped against the phone, and the blaring music lowered, equivalent to a plane taking off. "HOW ARE YOU?"

"Great, um, could you help me with something?"

Her pop music dropped to a whisper. "Sure! Watcha need?"

I needed to withhold as much information as possible. Because if I told her half of what the last two weeks had contained, she'd be on the first flight back.

"My car is being a brat."

"Again?"

I pulled out the manual hiding in the glove compartment. Clearly written in the wrong language. "It won't start," I said.