8 months ago

Comfortable Madness First PDF 4-13-18

Knives and Sadness Lying

Knives and Sadness Lying alone in my bed, my leg in a cast, my shoulder braced. The doctor told me not to move around too much with my broken ribs. Moss and ice water packed my head. Music arced through the house, brittle as lightning. It was too fast to be pleasant. Discordant and loud. Even with the walls between us and oxy’s opiate haze, the chords jarred. Tayla beat the notes with brutal hands. I pictured her at her piano, rod stiff. Her fingers stabbed instead of flowed. All day she’d been silent and surly, angry about something, but I didn’t know what. I was high and sore so I lay in bed and watched the music make fiery colors in the air. I dozed and floated and dreamed forgettable dreams until someone knocked on the door. Sudden silence slapped me. Voices, real voices, not the ones in my head, came down the hall. Tayla opened the door. “You have visitors,” she said. Miss Tris and Tad came in. Warm relief softened everything. They came and sat on the bed. Tayla slipped away. I watched her go, trying to figure out the words that would make things okay again, finding nothing but static and jagged sounds. Tad and Miss Tris watched her go with strained eyes but said nothing. “Jesus, girl,” Tad said. “You look like you forgot to bounce.” Miss Tris kissed my forehead. “You’re so pretty in your flowery pjs,” she said. “Tayla’s pissed,” I said. Tad took my hand. “You scared us,” he said. “Didn’t mean to,” I whimpered. “It’s okay,” Miss Tris said.

“She hates me,” I said, sounding small and weak in my own ears. “No.” I cried. Thick tears fell from my burning eyes. “I’m trying,” I said. Tad and Miss Tris held me, one on each side. “It’s not my fault,” I said. They made gentle noises. “I don’t know what to do,” I said. “Get better,” Tad said. “She’s just tired,” Miss Tris said. I hoped that was it. I hoped it was just fear and fatigue and not the start of Tayla walking away.