The shower felt wonderful. It had been a couple of days since my last one. As the water was pouring over me…my mind began to drift….and he showed up in my head…
---------------
Kevin.
Damn it, what now…?
Don’t be so pissy. I’m trying to help you.
It never seems like it.
You’re looking at me incorrectly then.
Okay…how should I be looking at you…
Just look at me as your conscience.
Yeah, but don’t people usually have control over their conscience? You seem to run pretty haphazard through my mind.
You're a good guy, Kev. Good people hear their conscience a lot more than others.
Okay, so what’s up now?
Kevin, I want you to look at things.
Look at things?
Yes.
What do you mean?
I want you to look at your situation - the people, the events, and yourself. I want you to understand what’s going on.
Is that a hint or something? Is this your way of saying I need to get a clue?
Pretty much.
Okay, if you know what’s going on, why don’t you just tell me?
Silence.
Hello, Mr. Conscience…
Nothing.
Why me, God?
Its because we love you, Kev.
You’re not God.
I’m the closest thing you’ve got.
---------------
I was shaken out of my “daydreaming” by a knock at the door. I put a towel around my waist and opened it.
“I need ta shit!” my old roommate screamed at me. To avoid any unnecessary conflict, I grabbed my clothes and vacated the bathroom. The old man stumbled in to the bathroom, mumbling something to himself. He slammed the door and a second later I heard a loud flatulation. I had to snicker at that.
I walked into our room and put on my clothes. A pair of denim shorts, a white pullover shirt, and a pair of Velcro sneakers. Shoelaces and belts weren’t allowed. At least not yet. I knew that if I could convince Melcher that I was not suicidal, I’d get those privileges awarded to me.
There was still about ten minutes till dinner and everything was run right down to the minute around here. I stepped in to the courtyard where the regulars were having their “before dinner” smoke break. Darc was stretched out on a bench at the far end of the yard. I say the far end; it was really only about twenty feet away from the entrance. The yard itself couldn’t have been more than 40x30. I walked over to him and sat down. He was sitting back in the bench, eyes closed, smoke coming out of his nostrils every few seconds. I wasn’t going to interrupt him, but he spoke to me anyway.
“Ya gotta love it.”
“Love what?”
“The freedom.”
“What freedom?” I was genuinely curious about what he was talking about.
“The freedom of the mind. You can do anything with it, no matter where you are.” His eyes were still closed.
“I guess.”
“You ever fly, Kev?” He looked at me now.
“What do you mean?”
“You ever just let loose? Ya know…get up in them clouds for awhile? Get away from all the crap you’re dealing with down here?” He finished his cigarette and tossed it in a nearby ashtray.
“I have ways of dealing with stress, yeah.”
“You need to try it, dude. Especially when you’re here.” He leaned back in the bench again, eyes shut.
“How would I do it?”
“Watch me and do what I do. Lean back, close your eyes, and imagine yourself in the sky.” It was worth a shot, I guess. So I complied. I leaned back, closed my eyes and tried to picture myself in the air.
“You’re not doing it right,” he said, in a singsong voice.
“How would you know?” I asked angrily, as I opened my eyes.
“Cuz I can’t feel you up there…” he said softly, almost in a whisper. What he was saying didn’t make sense, but a lot of stuff that had been happening to me lately didn’t make much sense. I stood up from the bench and looked down at him. He looked almost as if he was asleep. Suddenly, his eyes popped up and he jumped up from the bench.
“C’mon, let’s grub,” he said.
“That, I can understand.” And we walked inside to join everybody else.
---------------
Kevin.
Damn it, what now…?
Don’t be so pissy. I’m trying to help you.
It never seems like it.
You’re looking at me incorrectly then.
Okay…how should I be looking at you…
Just look at me as your conscience.
Yeah, but don’t people usually have control over their conscience? You seem to run pretty haphazard through my mind.
You're a good guy, Kev. Good people hear their conscience a lot more than others.
Okay, so what’s up now?
Kevin, I want you to look at things.
Look at things?
Yes.
What do you mean?
I want you to look at your situation - the people, the events, and yourself. I want you to understand what’s going on.
Is that a hint or something? Is this your way of saying I need to get a clue?
Pretty much.
Okay, if you know what’s going on, why don’t you just tell me?
Silence.
Hello, Mr. Conscience…
Nothing.
Why me, God?
Its because we love you, Kev.
You’re not God.
I’m the closest thing you’ve got.
---------------
I was shaken out of my “daydreaming” by a knock at the door. I put a towel around my waist and opened it.
“I need ta shit!” my old roommate screamed at me. To avoid any unnecessary conflict, I grabbed my clothes and vacated the bathroom. The old man stumbled in to the bathroom, mumbling something to himself. He slammed the door and a second later I heard a loud flatulation. I had to snicker at that.
I walked into our room and put on my clothes. A pair of denim shorts, a white pullover shirt, and a pair of Velcro sneakers. Shoelaces and belts weren’t allowed. At least not yet. I knew that if I could convince Melcher that I was not suicidal, I’d get those privileges awarded to me.
There was still about ten minutes till dinner and everything was run right down to the minute around here. I stepped in to the courtyard where the regulars were having their “before dinner” smoke break. Darc was stretched out on a bench at the far end of the yard. I say the far end; it was really only about twenty feet away from the entrance. The yard itself couldn’t have been more than 40x30. I walked over to him and sat down. He was sitting back in the bench, eyes closed, smoke coming out of his nostrils every few seconds. I wasn’t going to interrupt him, but he spoke to me anyway.
“Ya gotta love it.”
“Love what?”
“The freedom.”
“What freedom?” I was genuinely curious about what he was talking about.
“The freedom of the mind. You can do anything with it, no matter where you are.” His eyes were still closed.
“I guess.”
“You ever fly, Kev?” He looked at me now.
“What do you mean?”
“You ever just let loose? Ya know…get up in them clouds for awhile? Get away from all the crap you’re dealing with down here?” He finished his cigarette and tossed it in a nearby ashtray.
“I have ways of dealing with stress, yeah.”
“You need to try it, dude. Especially when you’re here.” He leaned back in the bench again, eyes shut.
“How would I do it?”
“Watch me and do what I do. Lean back, close your eyes, and imagine yourself in the sky.” It was worth a shot, I guess. So I complied. I leaned back, closed my eyes and tried to picture myself in the air.
“You’re not doing it right,” he said, in a singsong voice.
“How would you know?” I asked angrily, as I opened my eyes.
“Cuz I can’t feel you up there…” he said softly, almost in a whisper. What he was saying didn’t make sense, but a lot of stuff that had been happening to me lately didn’t make much sense. I stood up from the bench and looked down at him. He looked almost as if he was asleep. Suddenly, his eyes popped up and he jumped up from the bench.
“C’mon, let’s grub,” he said.
“That, I can understand.” And we walked inside to join everybody else.