A Tragedy: The Short Story of Fox & Tango
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Fox left. Now she was hallucinating? Great! That's all she needed now... to fully lose her mind.
Girl, you need to get a grip.
A day or two had passed. Fox knew that she was just hazing through her life. Not really living at all, just going through the motions. She was so stuck in routine, that it almost seemed like she was invisible to the world. She no longer even attempted to speak to anyone. But of course, they didn't care because they never talked to her. However, she preferred it that way. Not having to interact meant not having to share her pain. She was good with that.
Time was just speeding by. Nothing really changed much. Still she was in pain. Still she saw the periodic visions of Tango—each and every time he offered her help.
What the fuck is he talking about? She constantly thought. However what really boggled her mind was that she knew she was hallucinating, but she liked it. At least this provided her with him. If going flat out crazy was the way to keep him in her life, then so be it.
“Felicia, I'm here. Can you see me?” Staring into her bedroom mirror, she saw him standing behind her.
“Yes.” She whispered.
“I love you.”
“Me too, baby.”
“Turn around Fox.”
“If I turn around you'll disappear.”
“No. I won't. I promise.” Fox's eyes welled up. She'd become used to seeing his reflection, but she didn't know if she was ready to see him face to face. Slowly and carefully she turned, her face hanging to the ground. “Remember when you promised me that you could be strong?”
She nodded her response.
“Then, look at me.”
“I can't Tango. I'm scared.”
“Look at me.”
Slowly she lifted her eyes, her vision bouncing with fear.
Sure enough, there he was. Standing right in front of her. “Fox, I have to tell you something.”
“Wh-wh-what?” Her voice shaking as hard as her body was.
“No. I can't tell you,” Tango looked down and shook his head, reconsidering his thoughts. “I'm going to have to show you.”
“Sh-sh-show me?”
He nodded. Like a flash he wrapped his arms around her, grabbing her close to him. Pulling her in tightly. Fox was shocked! He was dead! A ghost! A spirit! How could he be holding her right now? Tango whispered into her ear, “Look.”
The room began to reel like a spinning top. Round and round. With every turn Fox's memory wheel-barreled into revelation. Bit and pieces of memories were flooding back in a haunted merry-go-round of the inexplicable.
She remembered...
Why did this happen?
She stood, she walked to the bathroom, and stared in the mirror—looking at herself. Her bloodshot eyes, her untamed mane and her soaked, colorless face.
She had reached the peak of frustration, and full of anger, lifted her fist and punched the glass. It cracked. Pulling the medicine cabinet open with all of her might, it made a slamming sound when it hit the opposite side of the wall. Rummaging with anger through its contents, she pulled out a bottle of sleeping pills. Tossing an unnumbered amount into her hand, she shoved them into her mouth, and poured water into her cupped hands as she guzzled them. Slamming the medicine cabinet closed she marched to her bed in an ambulatory state of mind.
The girls' rest room. The unbroken sink. No one saw her.
She felt invisible.
She wasn't there. Dear god! SHE WASN'T THERE!
“Oh my god. Oh my god! Tango! What are you telling me? What are you saying?”
“It's okay Fox.” He comforted her. “It's okay. Shhhh” He caressed her head. “Shhhh.”
“Tango, I’m dead?” She shook her head in disbelief.
Tango nodded, then embraced her even closer.
“I’m dead.” Finally, everything sunk in, at last things made sense to Fox. In the end, she understood. She’d just been too scared to accept it.
“Yes, baby,” Replied Tango in a loving tone. “Yes, we are.”
Accepting their fate, Fox nodded, no longer afraid of what was to come. With that, they both turned to face the mirror; its shiny, flawless surface transformed into water. Tango took Fox by the hand, and together they walked into it.
At least now, they could be together forever.
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