An Odd Kind Of Wonderful

Chapter Twenty-Three

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
"She's electric; can I be electric too?" (Oasis)

    If I was in the presence of mind required to pen words to page, this is what my bullet journal would look like:

'Places We Thought Raisa Was but She Actually Wasn't:'

(i) Behind every tree in the cemetery. Joel and I checked all of them, whispering "Raisa," repetitively until that got boring and we began yelling, though the most notable response that garnered was the squawk of some birds.

(ii) The public toilets down the road. Really, we just stood outside the ladies' and shouted, and we didn't look, but the effort was there—Raisa wasn't.

(iii) The entire park wherein the public toilets are located. It's about the size of a football field and we couldn't find her anywhere.

    I'm standing next to Joel, my arms crossed and Joel's fingers clicking to no particular beat, in the center of the field. My mind is racing. Every time I try and control my thoughts they only seem to blur further. I'm thinking of so many things at once it's impossible to describe—Raisa's scars keep coming up, though, again and again and again. Though I didn't see them instead my brain gives me an image of my own, a minute after I'd created them, and I can't breathe, it's caught in my throat and—

    My knees plummet from beneath me. The first thing I feel is a hand on my shoulder. The second thing is the dew on the grass on the thighs of my jeans—everything's hypersensitive, even my breaths coming from my lungs, I feel it as it travels up my throat and out of my mouth and it hurts so much it's like the air is made of barbed wire.

    Joel swears from above me. I clench my right hand into a fist and I get a reoccurring thought but I push it away, or at least I try to. Dr. Joseph tried to teach me how to visualize physically 'pushing' a thought away, but I never got the hang of it, and I can't believe Raisa would do this. She's beautiful and healthy and smiling and laughing and beautiful. Why would she ever do that to herself? Joel kneels next to me. His presence disturbs the air and it only makes me claustrophobic. I have to stop this. I have to control myself.

    "You're okay, mate."

    That's Joel's voice. I have to rethink the sentence three times before I understand what he's saying. "No." I snap, "No!" My knees curl up to my chest.

    "We're going to find her. She can't have gone far."

    "No." I hiss. I lash out with my fist but Joel dodges it.

    "Why? Nathan, why are you doing this?"

    His voice is low, like he's trying to gently coax an answer out of me, like a therapist would. "I..." I can't answer. The word 'therapy' makes my heart hurt.

    "Breathe."

    Bullshit. I can't.

    "Look, it's all you need to do." Joel says. "You only need to breathe. You do it all the time. You can do it this time."

    "I wish I never left. I should have stayed home. I hate this. I hate this. This happens—all the time, I find something to love and then it fucking goes and leaves! All the time. Every. Every time." I pant out, springing up and pacing around. "Every time, Joel!"

    "Alright," Joel steps backward. It's like he thinks I'm insane. I'm insane. "Calm down, now."

    "No!"

    "Nathan!" Joel screams. Birds are unsettled from their trees. I hear some bats fly overhead.

    I can't control what's going on. Dr. Joseph called this 'kitchen sinking'. Raisa's gone. She's left. What if she gets run over? What if she gets abducted? It isn't safe. She isn't safe. She's my fragile little glass vase. I need her back with me. She's—I can't—I should never have met her, this is all my fault—what if she dies tonight and it's my fault? I'd die. I'm going to die. I can't breathe and I'm going to die.