It was about three forty five in the morning when I got the call.
The past couple nights were restless because it had become more of a when, not an if.
When she told me I was half awake.
I couldn't quite process the information, but knew I had to leave to see him.
My partner woke up, aware that something wasn't quite right.
I broke the news, completely closed off from him.
We were moving at the end of the week, so we had been sleeping on a mattress on the cold carpeted floor.
All of our belongings had been packed up in a portable storage unit outside the building in his parking spot.
I called work to tell them I wouldn't be in.
I threw on an old flannel and jeans.
I brushed my teeth and put my contacts in.
Rolled some deodorant on and poured a shots worth of vodka into an empty glass.
It stinged a little but helped pull me from disbelief.
My partner was the first to express his condolences.
The first of many.
I left about four-o-five, and lit a cigarette in the hallway of my apartment.
When I exited the building I noticed the moon still in the sky.
The sky had begun to lighten up but it remained dark outside.
I inhaled my cigarette down to the filter and lit another as I hopped in my Mazda.
A mixed CD began to play the tail end of No Doubts "Happy Now."
I punched the seek button and put the car in drive.
There was no traffic since it was so early.
"Cornflake Girl" by Tori Amos began to play.
For some reason it hit a nerve, but I couldn't turn it off.
I turned it up as memories of my childhood flooded my mind.
Those memories began to fade as the music played and melted into a flash of current thoughts.
The surgeries, my mom crying, my sister closing herself off, the tubes, the doctors, the nurses, the coughing.
I fucking hated it all.
Second cigarette down.
I threw that fucker out the window and lit my third.
As I got off the highway toward the house, I began to think of God.
My first communion.
Going to church every Sunday with my family.
The sympathy cards littering my parents house already, with thoughtful expressions about religion and God.
I hated it all.
I hated God.
Even before he got sick, I wondered why a God would be so ignorant and let half the shit that happens, happen.
I pulled up outside and finished my smoke.
There were four cars there already.
My sisters, my aunt and uncles, my grandmas and a mystery vehicle.
I was hoping for a minute alone with the family before I had to face the jury, but there was no courtesy when it came to things like this.
I exited the car and walked toward the house in what felt like slow motion.
The door was already open, save the storm door.
As I entered I could hear crying.
The dog didn't bark like he always does.
To my right was my sister comforted by grandma.
To my left was my mom, dad and the pastor of my church.
I hadn't turned toward them, but could tell from the corner of my eye.
My mom ran to me and embraced me.
I promised I would be strong and refused to break down.
All I could hear was Tori Amos screaming at me "this is not real, this is not really happening. You bet your life it is."
