I sat down in the metal folding chair, ready to talk, and, hopefully, ready to be listened to.
I knew exactly what I was going to say, which hardly ever happens. Usually, I would try to tell people like you what exactly was going on, but I never could. I’d always start crying, which is weird, and my face would get all hideous and I could tell I was repelling you in my special way so I shut up.
But today was the day, I guess. I don’t think there was anything special about it now that I think about it. It was just a hot day in the middle of June. One of those days where you just want to shrivel up and die, because you feel like you’re going to shrivel up and die. I think I got a sunburn as soon as I set foot out the door.
Once I entered the cool air conditioning of your little space, I felt some temporary relief. That’s what I’ve been telling myself up to this point. It’s only temporary, it’s only temporary. This goddamn heat. And I can just step into an air-conditioned room, and then it’s fine!
Anyway, I was crystal clear. My voice was even—no cracks, no stuttering—and I think I was calm. Which was weird. I noticed your mug, next to your fingers, which were drumming in a sort of wave pattern, and it had a flower on it, which I thought was kind of stupid, but I didn’t say anything. I just kind of stared at it while I was talking, and after a while I don’t even really know what I was saying, and I think tears were streaming down my face, which was weird.
And your mug looked so dumb that I couldn’t handle it so I finally looked back at your face and your eyes were wide and your eyebrows shot up to the ceiling and your mouth was in an O and I just kept talking, my voice still in a monotone that I could hear but I wasn’t really listening to, in a sort of detached way that my daughter had noticed I had been doing often.
And then I was trying to keep talking but there was cold, black metal in my hand, tapping my teeth, which was weird, and I kept trying to talk but I don’t think you were listening, and I’m still crying but not sobbing because it’s just tears, not that gross facial contortion, and you’re slowly standing up and now you’re pointing at me. I’m not talking anymore and you start mouthing something and I can’t hear you but I think you said “Don’t shoot” and I