OXYGEN

23 - Paralyzed

According to the clock in his car, it was 5:37 P.M. As much as I dreaded it, I knew it was time to finally head back to my house. Both Forrest and I had enough for the day.

"Are you sure you don't want to crash at my place?" he asked, but I waved it off.

"No, no," I murmured, "There are some things I have to deal with. Besides, you need a break from me."

He frowned, but didn't press on. As he drove, I closed my eyes, wanting to fall asleep but failing. My head hurt, my tears had dried off, and my body lacked energy, but as far as I knew, my heart was still working, and I guess that was what mattered.

A song faintly reached my ears. I couldn't make out all the words, but the rhythm was almost hypnotic. I heard Forrest sigh. "Hey, June?"

I didn't open my eyes. "Yeah?"

"I, uh, I have a question."

"What?" I lazily muttered.

"Do you remember seeing me in high school?" The question washed over me, and I furrowed my brows. High school wasn't something I cared to talk about. It hadn't been the worst, but it was enough to make me want to never return.

I thought about it for a while and then answered, "To be honest, not really. Maybe we passed each other in the hallway sometimes, and you sat a few seats behind me in class, right? So no, I don't remember much. What about you? Did you ever notice me?"

It didn't take him too long to reply. "I did know your name, but after our sophomore year, I didn't have you in any other classes so . . . We never really talked, I think. But I did memorize the back of your head." I mulled over this, a bit surprised. However, I didn't have the opportunity to continue the conversation because he then asked, "Anyway, uh, which house is yours?"

I took a glimpse out the window and was joyless to find that we were in my neighborhood already. "That one," I muttered, gesturing to a certain dandelion-hued dwelling. Like the ones around it, the house appeared a bit large, but people had no idea how empty it truly was. There was more space than necessary - during a previous era of time, there was enough love and bliss to burst through the roof. Now, all that was left was the tainted memory.

"Wow," Forrest muttered as he parked right in front, "Nice place."

"Thanks," I replied, but I made no move to unbuckle my seat belt. We stayed like that for a moment - merely aiming our eyes out of the windshield, staring off into the distance. I understood that it was time to abandon his Corolla and watch him drive away, but I seemed to be paralyzed. In my hand was the paper bag containing the puzzle Forrest purchased for me; I tightened my grip on it.

"Hey," his voice was a peculiarly sweet sound, "Do you want me to walk you to the door?"

I forced a small smile and admitted, "Yeah, I'd like that."

"All right, come on then." With great reluctance, we got out and started dragging our feet towards my porch. Once we made it there, we stood before each other, our eyes not really meeting. "Um," he rubbed the back of his neck, "So . . . do you mind if I get your number? Just in case."

I raised my brows at him, almost dumbfounded. "Oh," I stammered, "Uh, sure. Give me your phone."

"Here," he drew his cellphone from his pocket and handed it to me, "The password's 5-8-6-3."

Soundlessly, I unlocked it and inserted my house and cell numbers. When I finished, I held it out to him. "There you go. Just text me or something."

"Yeah, I will," he assured me, "Thanks."

I cleared my throat and knew this was it. "Well, I guess," I started inching closer to my door, "I guess I should get going." I nodded, feeling a little awkward. "Thanks for everything, Forrest. I mean it."

He smiled. "This isn't goodbye, you know."

My hand was on the knob now. "Of course it's not," I uttered, "I don't think you're ever going to leave me alone." It was supposed to be a joke, but we both knew it was true.

Forrest released a laugh. It lasted a few seconds, which wasn't quite enough. "You're right. You can't get rid of me that easily." Although I didn't want to acknowledge it, his words squeezed my heart.

"Okay, seriously, I'm going to go," I said, determined. I finally opened the door. "I'll see you next time, yeah?"

He swallowed, taking a few steps back. "Stay safe, June."

"I will," I murmured, but he was already walking back to his car.

A minute later, because I didn't really want to watch him disappear from my view, I resisted looking out of the window. Instead, I stayed leaning against the door and took in the sight of my living room. The light was off so a glow from the windows gave the place a sad, deserted impression. I thought about how I hadn't expected to be back here, recalling how I quietly slipped out of the door just hours earlier with one depressing thing in mind.

As usual, it was terribly silent with the exception of the clock ticking. Becoming bothered by the lack of sound, I eventually walked towards the stairs, already knowing my grandfather was in his room. He wasn't one that enjoyed being disturbed so I didn't bother checking in on him. He would forever be oblivious to what I tried to execute.

Growing heavier with each step, I finally brought myself to my bedroom door. Hesitant, I gently pushed it open and flicked on the light. My stomach churned once my eyes landed on my bed. In a flash, I recalled all the nights I spent crying myself to sleep and all the mornings where the hardest thing was hauling myself out. But that wasn't what held my interest.

There, still untouched and unread, were the nine envelopes.

My suicide letters.