[lumberjim]

The lyric sites say, 'as an arrow blue and red'

But it's clearly, 'your eyes were narrow, blue and red'

Her eyes were brown. But her eyelids were blue and her eyes were bloodshot and slightly open. And half her left tit was exposed.

When I got to the hospital, Shelby was alone in the doorway. She said only, "she died"

My head swam. Felt like I was going to fall down.

I had to walk through the place with all eyes on me as I went around the desk area and to a blue curtain. There was a body on the table. Her hair.

I came into the room from behind her right shoulder. I don't remember how I got to the other side. Her head was tilted left, away from me. Did I walk around her feet or head? I put my hand on her brow. She was warm.

Then a small female doctor was at my left elbow. I was bewildered. She said, she drank a poison that bonds to red blood cells. No oxygen can attach.

She offered a chair. Maybe I swooned. I declined. Said something stupid about it just being another Thursday to them. It was Wednesday.

That's something that stuck with me from a TV show. Tuesday.

That line in that song.brought these images back.

Then Shelby came in. She pulled the blanket over her boob and layed across her. I didn't have any idea what to do. None. I couldn't hold either of them. Ripley was wearing the scarab earrings Amanda had just given her. Amanda was ghost white. We left Shelby with her and went to find Spencer. He was sitting on the curb outside. He said something disturbing like, she didn't change her mind. She never said she didn't want to die.

I haven't seen him since. Talk to him nearly every day, but he's fine. He is grieving alone.

When Shelby came back out, I tried to apologize for some stupid text about our cats. Then tried to offer help relocating. Ridiculous. Asshole.

She hitd her face and told me to shut up. So I hugged my boy and told him not to do this. Then I drove home. Hadn't shed a tear yet. Until I touched my doorknob. No. I touched the lavender Ripley had just planted
Then sobs and tripping feet took me to the kitchen sink. I cry ugly. Not good at it.


I'm writing this here so I can remember the surreal feeling. Don't know if I'm getting it. I'm feeling very sorry for myself. And guilty for that. I cried in the car on the way home listening to that song. And when Amanda greeted me she knew. And I fled to the bathroom and let some more snot bubbles out of my nose. Then I went up to my bed and laid down. Thought I had got my shit together, but when I came back down, the pain on her face chased me to the porch. Where the phone rang in my pocket at 10:45 that night.

There's nowhere to hide from it. Just have to keep going through it. I can tell myself lots of smart things. I'm very good at that. Bullshit talk.

My Forte.