The Void - part 2
My phone buzzes as I entire the shop. I nod at Mike as I reach in my pocket. He flashes a weary smile at me and then returns to the mail. I look down and read the message on the screen.
"can yu call me? i really need to talk to you"
I put the phone back into my pocket.
Mike is finished with the mail. He walks over to me.
I shrug and pour myself a cup of coffee.
"I guess it’s still raining." I look down and realize I am soaked to the bone. My body seizes up and I start to shiver.
"Do you want to hang out in the back until you dry off? It’s probably going to be a slow day, what with the weather." I nod and walk to the back.
The office is poorly lit. A cluttered desk sits in the middle, covered in CDs, cassettes and miscellaneous promotional materials for bands no one knows and everyone will soon forget. I stand in the doorway and sip the coffee. The chair is old and made of leather. I don’t want to ruin it, so I sit on the carpet and stare at the wall. Kurt Cobain plainly stares back from a faded poster.
How did he do it?
He channeled his angst, his loneliness, his despair and made something of himself. He touched the lives of millions.
Then he killed himself.
I’ve thought about suicide. Who hasn’t? But what a dull way to go. After you do it, it’s just… done. I’ve never wanted it end; I only want it to get better.
I take my phone out of my pocket and read the text again. The number isn’t saved, but it’s familiar. No matter how many times I delete it, the same fucking number always seems to come back.
I know I complain about how empty my life is. I know I come off like a spoiled, upper middle-class white kid that manufactered the boredom of everyday life into an angst that is in no way unique.
But I am a sum of the pieces of my past.
The pieces of a broken heart, of a fractured soul, do not disappear. They sit inside until they are stirred. Then, they shatter into smaller chunks with sharper edges. And every time I respond, I’m raising the hammer.
I push down on her number and dial.
"Hi, this is Carly. Can’t talk now, but leave one and I’ll get back to you. MAYBE!"
I let go of the phone and lean my head against the floor. The hammer falls again.