Pictures of You

After not being able to sleep - again - I went out in the living room to dig around in that box I gave Alex to keep. I kept digging until I found the pictures from when things wound down the second time, and I still can't believe neither of us saw things coming to a head. The pictures of me with her law school cronies? I have the same "please shoot me" look that she does in the pictures of us hanging out with my friends from the neighborhood.

I wonder if the legal larvae took Kate aside and told her how much they couldn't stand me? I remember how mad I was when the guys said their wives didn't like Kate. She blew it off, said they had a problem because they were unhappy with their own lives, that husbands and babies weren't cutting it for them, and they resented seeing someone not buying into their mistakes, but I could tell it bugged her like the lawyerettes got to me with their casual elitism.

God, we both looked so tired, too. I was working all the time, she was trying to juggle classes at two different schools and some work when she could get it. And then she started getting sick. Really, really sick. In one of these, from the last Christmas, she looks half-dead. How did I not notice? Then we found out what was wrong, and the whole world crashed.

******

I must've fallen asleep, because the next thing I know, I'm outside my apartment door - the apartment I had back when I was at the two-seven. I go in, and there's the damn kid again. Older, still mad. She has a few toys scattered around, and she's busy ripping up one of my copies of Yeats, which annoys me no end. I mean, she looks about ten, and that's too old for that crap, right?
I try talking to her, because again, since this is a dream, it seems normal for her to be there.
"Hey, I guess I'm late, right?"
No answer, just a glare.
"Have you eaten anything?" Again, no answer; she's just drilling holes in me with those eyes.
I dig through the place, looking for something to feed her, which is kinda hard since I never kept much around there. I try to make small talk - how was school, what did you do, all of that jazz. Nothing. The kid says nothing.
I finally turn around and say, "Look, I've got to go get you something, ok, kid?"
"No."
I guess that's something. "What do you mean, no?"
"No. You don't. I don't eat."
"That's crazy. All kids eat."
"I don't. I don't eat, I don't sleep. I don't go to school. I don't do anything." The glaring continues. "But I guess that's better than being here with you."
For the first time, I notice she has bruises up and down her arms and legs. And all of a sudden, I see that she looks like someone's given her a good hard one with an open hand across the face. I don't want to know, but I ask anyway. "Who did that to you, kid?"
She turns up the hate in her looks and her voice and says, "You would have."
I want to tell her no, I wouldn't, I couldn't, but she's backing away from me as fast as she can, and then she's gone.

******

Again, when I wake up, there's no screaming but I am in a cold sweat. At least that won't wake Alex up. I put the pictures away and have a beer before hitting the shower to try to scrub this off of me. Won't work, I know, but what else can you do?

So, you really think I should get into this with Alex? It's been one month, that's all. I've had this nest of snakes in my head for a long, long time - and who wants to see that?