Depths by C.S. Burkhart

conversation would
start but what would happen afterward? I needed her help and
trusted her more than anything, but how do I explain what's
happening? That I was having dreams and hallucinating, dying on a
regular basis, never knowing what ’ s real and what ’ s not... How do you explain
insanity?
    She was already worried, hell, if not calling her
for a while was cause for concern then this was cause for 24-hour
surveillance. I drove along down Memoir Drive and turned left at
the light onto Paramount Place and just drove. The sky was blue and
it was the perfect temperature. 75 degrees. Not too hot and not too
cold. It was a nice day. A much needed boost to my spirits.
    The light changed red at the
intersection and I stopped behind a metallic green minivan. It had
a bumper sticker on it that read “ Coexist ” . Each letter used a
different religious symbol to make the letter. Cute. I didn't
really believe in anything. I had never wondered what happens when
we die, I figured we just died. But if that were the case, there
would be no more thought, no more conscious or subconscious
thinking. How do you think about what it would be like to not
think?
    The driver behind me was honking his horn angrily.
The minivan was gone and the light was green. I must have drifted
off. Feeling rushed by the guy behind me, I pressed hard on the gas
pedal and sped off.
    I continued down Paramount until I
turned onto Sunny Way. Weird street name. It was canopied on both
sides by weeping willow trees and there was hardly any sun to be
seen. I wove down the winding street , finally parking against
the curb outside her house. 24976 Sunny Way. No matter how fuzzy my
memory had gotten, I would always remember that address.
    Ignition off. Quiet. I always felt unsettled on this
street. Maybe it was the willows with their leafy bows turned
downwards and the shadows they cast. Maybe it was the utter
silence, not a single person was on this street. No kids on bikes
or drawing with chalk, no fathers playing catch with their sons.
Completely deserted. I never liked being outside on this street for
very long.
    I stepped out of my car, the
breeze passed over my ears and through my hair and sent a chill
down my back. I shuddered. Maybe it was from nervousness to
see her , maybe it was the unsettled feeling , I don't know. I locked the car and walked the pathway to
her house.
    She had done well with herself, studying criminal
law in college with a minor in human psychology sure paid off. As
much as I enjoyed her company, I always thought she was studying
and analyzing me, which I'm sure she was. Pointing out my obvious
bullshit aside, she was always able to find the deeper meaning in
my words. She was good at it too. It could be her profession, it
could be our history but whatever it was, she was good at it.
    I was nervous, and I have no problem
admitting that. She could be a little intimidating and it was
awkward considering the reason we were meeting in the first
place.
    Just be yourself!
    I hated that expression, “ Just be yourself. ” How
stupid of a saying is that? Who is myself? What does that mean? And
yet a peppy voice in my head kept repeating the saying over and
over.
    Knock knock!
    Just be yourself!
    Shut up.
    I didn't hear her coming. So I knocked again. Still
nothing.
    Hmm.
    Just be yourself!
    I gripped the door knob, perhaps it was open? I
twisted the knob and the door opened up. She had left the window in
the front of the house open and the breeze made the
floral-patterned curtains billow and whip around.
    From the entryway I went to the
living room on the left. The coffee table had some magazines and a
coffee mug that was almost empty. Everything on the sofa looked
organized just like always. Pillows propped up, cushions completely
tucked in. The living room was connected to the kitchen straight
ahead and to the right was the staircase to the second floor with
the dining room to the right of that. I checked out the rest of the
first floor