In Real Life

by Elisabeth Warner

  “Mom!” That’s the jacket Mom picked out for me the day we went to Taco Tuesdays. Is Sage trying to tell me something? What does she know?

  As I stare down at her, I’m not sure if I should wave or draw attention to myself. But she sees me. Before I can make any motion to acknowledge her, she whips out a phone and takes a picture in my direction.

  By the time I’m off the couch and out the door, she’s gone. Can I call for her? Is a patrol officer close behind her? I gasp as the thought occurs to me. Her husband’s a government official.

  “Hey! What are you doing out here this early?”

  I turn just in time to see a patrol officer charging toward me on a mo-pod. My heart stops. He’s coming for me. I could be charged for murder from my social media activity.

  Without thinking, I run in the opposite direction up the street, wishing that my legs were somehow faster than the mo-pod. If Dad’s hope is real, it would be nice to have some of that right about now.

  Hope comes in the form of a narrow corner where I can slip in and hide. The mo-pod is too large to fit in here.

  Thankfully, the patrol officer doesn’t catch me, and he turns the corner and keeps driving. When he stops, I peer around the corner and slip back into hiding.

  “Ma’am, you’re awake past curfew. I’m going to need you to remove your coat and your glasses so I can properly identify you.”

  Oh no! Sage. My hands clench into fists. If I hadn’t been so scared, she could’ve gotten away. Then again, she’s a government official’s wife. What evidence would they have on her?

  Maybe what she did with Don.

  “No need for all that, officer.” Sage’s voice is cool as her shoes clack toward him. “You can talk to my husband if you have any issues with me.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Mason! I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it was—”

  “Yeah, and as you know, I outrank you. So next time you decide to chase me down the street, I’ll be sure to tell your supervisor all about it.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”

  My chest wells up with pride as the mo-pod whirs back around the corner and down the road.

  “If I were out right now, I’d go back home and wait for your instructions.”

  I freeze. Is she talking to me? What instructions?

  As she turns the corner, she takes off her sunglasses and looks in my direction. “It’s not safe for civilians to be out here now, especially if you happen to be taking care of a dying relative. Go back home and wait for your instructions.”

  My heart pounds wildly as I sit and wait for her clacking to walk farther down the street. Looking around the corner, I make a run for my parents’ house. Once safely inside, I collapse on the floor, fatigue overtaking me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A coughing fit from Dad wakes me, and I realize I’ve been on the floor all this time. Was seeing Sage a dream?

  Go back home and wait for your instructions.

  Her words were clearly for me, but what did they mean?

  I slowly bring myself up from the floor. Dad’s eyes are open, and his lips are parted as his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm.

  “Dad, you’ll never guess who I ran into.” I straighten out my clothes and wipe the drool from my face.

  He clears his throat with a sound like gurgling water. “Don.” His whisper brings on a fit of coughs.

  Hearing his name out loud is a punch to my gut. I try to ignore it. “No, Dad. Sage! Remember her?”

  He shakes his head and coughs into his fist. “Don.”

  I wince, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I know we’re not really friends because of what happened with Don. But I wonder why she would visit me. Or how she knew I was here.”

  “Don.” Is Dad’s voice rising?

  I blink back the tears welling in my eyes. “Dad, I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me, but I’m—”

  “Don!”

  “Shut up!” I scream as loudly as I can, causing him to sink deep into his chair. “You haven’t spoken in days, and that’s the only thing you can say to me? You know how I feel about him. I don’t get what you’re trying to tell me. I saw Sage, not Don. What is your problem?”

  With tears running down my cheeks, I run into my bedroom. I swipe the tears from my eyes as ugly snot oozes from my nose, making it difficult to breathe. Dad’s dying. I have no time to be angry at him. Whatever feelings I have about Don need to be thrust to the side, as usual. I need to go apologize.

  After composing myself, I twist my doorknob and find Dad hobbling toward the bedroom door, lifting his walker with the minimal strength he has.

  “Dad, I’m sorry.” The tears start again. “Please just don’t bring him up again. It’s too painful.”

  “I...love...you,” he replies with a labored breath between each word.

  “I love you too.” I wrap my arms around him and sigh. Who knows how much longer I have until he’s gone? “Would you like breakfast?”

  Dad responds with a slow, labored nod.

  “Okay. Let me heat up the water while you sit on your chair.” I guide him back to his recliner. As I sit him down, his breath is short and cold against my cheek.

  Even after several months, I miss walking around my house with my peaceful playlist sending sweet music to my ears. For now, all I have to distract myself from my pain is cooking and cleaning. But this time, cooking doesn’t erase my thoughts of Don.

  Why did Dad have to bring him up?

  I stir, hot water flinging out of the pot. I flinch as a droplet burns my skin. Nothing compared to the burning anger in my heart. Despite all we’ve been through, I can’t help but wonder if Don is okay, if he’s safe, or if he got arrested for his crimes on social media.

  He’s a smart guy, but could he avoid getting arrested? Knowing him, I’m sure he saw this whole shutdown and government overhaul coming.

  Why didn’t he ever warn me?

  A violent cough from the other room interrupts my thoughts, thrusting me back into my grim reality. I run into the living room to see Dad tugging at his shirt, struggling to breathe.

  “No! Dad!” Not yet…

  I place my hands on his chest, taking off his shirt. “Are your clothes choking you?” A gasp escapes my lips. Under his shirt, he’s completely skin and bones. The lungs that were inside his body have now deteriorated. How long has he been like this?

  “Dad...I’m so sorry.”

  Medication would help him survive. Even proper nutrition would prolong his life. Instead, he’s wasting away to nothing. And I get a front-row seat to the action.

  “Let’s eat breakfast, and then you can take a nap.”

  We eat in silence. I have nothing else to be thankful for. I have nothing to say to Dad. If I had to admit it, I’m afraid. I wish I could unsee what’s happened to him. He’s a corpse, barely alive, just waiting for death to come upon him.

  After cleaning up, I put a clean shirt on Dad and leave him in the recliner. “I’ll be in the attic if you need me.” I plant a kiss on his forehead. Please don’t go.

  Fear grips me as I walk from the dining room, down the hall, toward the upstairs. I know he doesn’t have much longer to live. But I also know that running away from my feelings is what I do best.

  I’m also pretty good at cleaning.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The attic has been untouched for weeks, at least since Mom was arrested. With a little bit of water, rags, soap, and garbage bags, I can do anything up there. My body breaks into a sweat as soon as I’m up the creaky wooden stairs. The humidity that has risen into the attic chokes me. If this is what Dad feels like, I have a newfound sympathy for him.

  Once I arrive at the attic, the smell of dust and rotten eggs sends me into a sneezing fit. What died, and when? I survey the room and don’t even know where to start. The smell is overwhelming, but it’s distracting me from my pain.

  I scan the attic, looking for my first place to tackle. Deciding to start simple, I bend in front of
me and start sorting through the junk on the floor. After piling the items in keep or trash piles, I come across my old laptop. It’s one of the last laptops that was ever made. I wonder if I can sell it…Oh right, no Internet.

  The pink cover around it brings me back to my virtual biology class, where I met Sage. Memories of being lab partners and dissecting frogs pop into my mind, and instantly I’m back online with her, reviewing our notes for the latest midterm. Of course, we also threw in conversations about the latest gossip, from the cutest boy in our class to the video that annoying girl posted of her dancing.

  We liked each other enough to meet in real life a few times. In fact, outside of my family and Don, Sage is the only person who I’ve ever connected with outside of the Internet. She’s also the only one who has truly broken my heart. Well, besides Don, but I knew Sage longer. I feel like all the years we’ve been through were clouded by that one act, on that one Tuesday in November.

  But she did save me from the patrol officers…

  I toss the laptop to the side, watching it bounce off the hardwood floor and upside down. The damp darkness of the musty attic is creeping in on me, infiltrating my soul. I need music, calming music, to put my mind at ease. But the soundtrack of my life is now the faint groanings of Dad in his recliner downstairs in the other room and my bloated stomach crying out in hunger.

  Looking at the piles, I realize that the problem isn’t the number of items on the floor. It’s the dust. I get on my hands and knees and scrub the dust off the ceilings, the windows, and the floors, in that order, trying to scrub away the pain of losing my Dad, my Mom, and my best friends.

  “Don,” I whisper out loud, echoing what Dad said earlier. As I pick at a stubborn stain, I imagine trying to pick Don out of my life. What did he do for me anyway? Why do I have to be constantly reminded of him?

  But like the stain, Don won’t go away. He’s forever etched in my mind and in my heart.

  “Oh, Don!” I sob, grabbing my hair and pulling for dear life.

  Why did I threaten to kill my best friend? My husband? And why didn’t anyone stick up for me?

  What did I do wrong?

  My own mother, defending a man who hurt her beloved daughter. My own father, speechless during the whole process.

  Who was going to save me?

  The memories are too real. I can’t stop them from coming. Tobi was there to distract me. Now I’m left to my own guilt and shame.

  Who can redeem me now?

  I feel so dirty. I need to clean. Maybe I can’t remove the mistakes from my past, but I can try to remove as much dust as possible from around me. The more the attic sheds its dirty layer of dust, the more I’m able to forget. The inside of me might be full of cobwebs, but the inside of this house is exciting and full of life. That’s what I want to be.

  The attic is nearly immaculate, except for a speck of dust floating in the area. When I reach out my finger to retrieve it, I don’t realize the pile I want to throw out is right in front of me. The whole stack falls to the ground, ruining my process.

  “For crying out loud! Now I have to clean all this too.” I curse Tobi, angry that I don’t have him to help me organize.

  As I sort through the mess, I think about how little Tobi did for me. He didn’t satisfy my desire for love, connection, and belonging. He didn’t make me any smarter, and he didn’t teach me how to contribute to society in any way. The only credit I can give him is helping me grow further away from those I love. He helped me to escape the pain I needed to endure in order to grow.

  Now I have no choice but to embrace the pain at full force.

  A red shoebox slides onto the floor in front of me and releases its contents. Hm, why didn’t I notice that before? But as I examine the small boxes that were inside, I recognize them right away. It’s filled with video drives of all the love letters Don wrote to me, recorded in his own voice. His romantic messages started ten years ago, when we first started dating, but they stopped seven years ago, right after we were married. Somehow, they seem to have followed me here. I probably gave them to Mom after the divorce.

  I grip my head, my migraine returning. Using a video drive without the Internet is possible, but not recommended. Especially since I know what these letters will do to me. Watching the videos, seeing Don face-to-face again, will hurt me, but it feels like the right thing to do.

  As I bend to pick up the video drive, a fragrance of spice, the cinnamon-laced cologne of my ex-husband, ambushes my nostrils and continues to linger in the air. It’s amazing how the smell brings memories right to the forefront of my mind. It’s as if Don is in the next room, shaving and brushing his teeth before work. I close my eyes and imagine him coming into our bedroom, planting a kiss on my lips before he clocks into work. Since he fixed computers, he was one of the only people in Windsor Terrace who worked outside the home.

  “Your lunch is on the counter,” I tell him, my cheeks burning from smiling so hard.

  “Thanks, sweetheart. I love you.” He swiftly steals another kiss, leaving me breathless.

  “I love you too.” My voice echoes in the musty attic, bringing me back to reality. I open my eyes. Don’s not standing there, telling me he loves me. He’s in a world far from here, wanting nothing to do with me.

  What happened to us? How did we fall so far out of love? How could he go so far as to have an affair with my best friend?

  All my problems hail back to my only source of human connection—social media.

  He hadn’t come home yet. Tobi reminded me that it was time to order pizza for dinner. I asked Tobi to locate my husband.

  He was at Sage’s house.

  I couldn’t believe that the little blue dot representing my husband was at Sage’s house on the map. “What’s he doing there?” I asked out loud.

  I sent a text to Sage and asked her what was going on. But she didn’t answer.

  My heart was torn in two. I fell to the floor, overwhelmed by guilt and anger. Questions swirled around in my head.

  Why would he do this?

  What did I do wrong?

  Why would my best friend hurt me like this?

  Demanding sympathy from my other friends, I sent a message to Don’s public page: “I know where you are. If you don’t come home in one hour, I’ll go over there and kill the both of you.” Of course, I was exaggerating. I could never kill my husband and best friend, no matter how angry I was. My social sphere should have known that, right?

  Big mistake. A flood of messages downloaded onto my phone. Concerned family members, wondering why I would say such a hurtful thing to my husband. Friends of Don, swearing he would do nothing wrong. His mother, calling me clingy and ungrateful.

  For the first time ever, I turned off my cell phone. I needed to disconnect. But in doing so, I destroyed my social life, my marriage, and my family, all in one conversation. When everyone I knew teamed up against me, I did the only thing I knew to do: hide.

  Looking back, I could’ve explained myself better. I didn’t tell my social sphere where he was or what he was doing. If they’d known all those important details, maybe they would’ve taken my side. Maybe I wouldn’t be so alone.

  Don came home that night and didn’t kiss me like he always did. He wouldn’t talk to me for days. Though he never admitted to the affair, his silence showed me that he was guilty. Sage didn’t talk to me for months, not that I tried to text her. The next time she talked to me was to announce that she was pregnant with twins.

  I’ve always wanted twins.

  Tobi made signing the divorce papers way too easy. No interruptions to my life. No financial commitments. All it cost me was love, belonging, and connection to all my friends and family.

  Now I sit on the floor, the video drives from Don scattered all over the floor like my emotions scattered all over the Internet.

  I can’t even bring myself to watch them, to even press the green buttons on the devices. I know that by seeing the image of my former love, I will be force
d to reconcile the fact that I still love him.

  And I always will.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Lin, I need to tell you something.” Dad leans forward in his chair, demonstrating unbelievable strength for someone in his condition. Tears are welling in his eyes.

  “Sure, Dad. Tell me anything.”

  “I want you to know that there is more than this life. I’ll be there soon.”

  I lean into him, putting my hand on his arm. “What do you mean?”

  He takes a deep breath. I’m surprised at how he talked with such ease in his condition. Wasn’t he just choking on his own breath?

  “When I was diagnosed with lung cancer, they put this chip in me to keep me alive.” He holds up his other arm to show me the faded scar. “After the treatments stopped working, they told me I had three years to live. Two years after that, that’s when the worry kicked in. I started to wonder who would provide for my family after I’m gone. I knew about your miscarriage. I knew Mom wanted to retire. But what would happen when I was gone?” He coughs into his hand.

  “So, what do you think?” I ask. Who’s going to take care of me?

  “Well, I realized that it would be pointless for us to live only to die and never come back.”

  “Yeah, but those are the facts. We live, and then we die.” Heat begins to rise in my chest.

  More coughing. “Oh, but Lin, it isn’t. There is so much more.” He pauses to take a break. “There is a heaven.”

  I cringe. “Oh, Dad, why do you have to talk like that? Good thing the Internet crashed, or the Liberty party would be hanging on your every word.”

  “It is a good thing. Without the Internet, you’re listening to me. You probably have the same questions I did.”

  “What?” I shake my head. “I’m not questioning anything. You’re the one who’s dying.”

  “But what about you, Lin? What will happen to you?”

  The heat that rose in my chest now burns in my throat. I can’t think of an answer. I don’t want to. Death is too scary to imagine. We live, and then we die. That has always been my belief. But knowing that doesn’t make me feel any better.