Waterlick and Leesville

A portion of my life, nearly five and a half years to be precise, I spent laboring for a wage. I worked in a printing shop. We produced local and national publications and advertisements by the tens of thousands and often times into the millions. My shift was six at night until six the following morning for 7 days in a row. The seven days following I did not work. Most of the time I worked extra days during my seven days off and at one point I worked nearly three months straight without a day off. I would get home from work in the morning by seven, and be in bed and usually asleep no later than eight. The alarm on my phone would wake me up at one or half past one in the afternoon. If something else didn't wake me up, a neighbor mowing grass, an obnoxious census taker ringing the doorbell. This cycle repeated over and over. I began to get by on less and less sleep. I started to wake up earlier and earlier. I played first person shooters game after game. My closest friend was a cat named Babygirl, her brother Otis was less so.

Perpetually exhausted. I toiled, in exchange for a decent paycheck and healthcare. I had the job for four months before I got married. After three years I began to loathe my employment. No room for advancement, no raises given regardless of merit. I could not get off the night shift. I grew weary. Along my route to work in the evenings I had to pass through a four way intersection with a traffic light. Once, as I waited for the green light to illuminate above me, and as I gazed down the oncoming road ahead and saw the building I worked in, I had an epiphany.

I glanced to my left and right. Green Ford, barrelling through the intersection, 45 miles per hour. Opposite direction and a light blue Toyota truck flies past me at an easy 50. I stare intently now at the light beckoning my halt. I stare at the glowing unwavering red. Did it just get a little less bright? Is it starting to extinguish and turn off? I ease off the brake pedal and the small Mercury Mystique gently begins to roll forward at a snail's pace. That light is definetly on its way out. I pull my foot of the brake pedal completely and slide over to the accellerator. The red bulb is done, the green starts to illuminate and I press the skinny pedal down. The car enters the intersection.

There is no horn only screeching sliding tires. Its close to dusk, and the headlights are what actually catch my eye. The downward flash and then the darkness as the beams drop from shining into my window to shining against the passenger side doors of the Mystique. The timing is impeccable, and the initial impact is textbook "t bone". My head and body fly towards the oncoming car, held in place by my shoulder and lap belt. Ear smashed against right shoulder hard, instantly hot with pain. Metal shreiks and bends, the glass in the windows doesn't crack. The glass pops, just one finite loud pop, followed by the rain of crystals and the din of groaning rubber and sheet metal and plastic. The passenger front door pressed inward as the car slides sideways. I see shadows dance across the headliner as my skull rolls backward on my neck and shoulder. I close my eyes.

When my eyes open again there is young man leaning over me, a pen light shining into my pupils. I say nothing as he questions me, I just stare at his fuzzily outilined face. My eyes close again. Bright light and white drop ceiling tiles. The smell, clinical and sterile and devoid of perfume. Hospital noises and hospital people wearing hospital clothes. I grin slightly before the pain rushes forward and I wince instead.

At least I do not have to go work tonight I think, as the morphine takes me away.

Years would pass, and everytime I aproached this intersection I had to fight the urge to stare at that glowing red lens and wait for it to dim. Some nights the urge was harder to fight than others. Heading to work was a test with but one question, is time away from the job worth the risk. It wasn't until I began having this same debate on the way home, to where my wife was, that I realized something was wrong.

Minutiae

I barely hear what is being spoken at me, muffled inflection and high notes so I know when to nod in oblivious agreement. The sound of my keyboard is what I concentrate on while I stare at my computer monitor and it stares back at me. Blinking cursor, shitting out letters and numbers as it marches across one dialog box after another. Filling out forms with a myriad of specifications and personal information at the speed of synapse. Any given day can pass and I can type thousands of words and not once do I actually know what I am inputting. Names, dates, and addresses certainly but there is no chance of recalling this information as soon as a few seconds have passed.

My monitor owns my gaze. I rarely look away from it. I dive into the soul of my computer through the glowing panel in front of me. I imagine myself floating past circuit boards and wires and litte funny shapped resistors with colored bands. I am actually quite certain those are no longer used but it is my damned day dream. I twirl delicately through the digital air, finding my way into one of those cables that clutter the backstop of the counter top. Picking up speed now and twisting faster I bump along into the PC. Dust everywhere, lots of it. I choke and cough and sneeze, a fan blows my towards a motherboard or hard drive or graphics card. I do not know these parts. I do not care to know these parts. I drift towards the ethernet cable, the internet awaits. A bright and warm and enticing light envelopes me.

I hear a high note, glance up and make eye contact, force a smirk and give that reassuring nod. Fuck off, go away, I have piles of data to mindlessly input. Tapping on my keyboard, every so often I pound the enter key extremely hard for no other reason that to release frustration. I fly the irritated flag so high, it must be above the clouds because no one else seems to see it. If a flag flaps in the forest, and no one is around to hear it, well I digress. I want to egress, I can not. She still stands above me, I have given up explaning that I have a hard time hearing when she speaks. Perhaps she feels that if everything she says is a secret it makes her more important. My typing has stopped, I am not sure why. I glance down at my papers and take a second to inhale a long slow breath. A flash of light on my monitor screen, reflection from the glass behind me. I look back expecting to see a customer vehicle pull in, my heart rate increases my stomach turns into a twisted knot of fire and ache. My pupils get small and I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. There is nobody there, no customer, no demon, and nothing happening. I return my gaze to my dreamy liquid crystal display and start to find my way back.

Back to that glowing warm portal to the outside world. The light is intense and bright but I don't need to squint or cover my eyes. I feel weightless as I drift through and become completely drenched in the freeing rays. I'm hovering now over the earth as seen through Google Maps. West Virginia, gorgeous green, mountain covered and river riddled. Friendsville, Maryland with its small town and huge appeal. I float lower and lower, small ripples in the great green country side become larger and rivers become wider. I cruise up the Yough river valley, north toward Ohiopyle, past Deep Creek Lake. Cool mountain air rushes past me and flattens my shirt against my chest. I am amongst the trees, soaring with the birds like Peter Pan. Do not judge me, this is my damned day dream. Lightning, fast and sharp our of nowhere.

The door behind me and to my left swings open and the light flashes across my monitor. I glance quickly, face blank but a fake smile ready to deploy at a moment's notice. Just another co worker. Good morning, the weather is great, sell some cars so on and so forth. Pleasantries with no meaning aside from cursory politeness to those we force ourselves to work with. My heart has already raced back up to high gear, stomach returning to its tightened state. Damn it can't I have just five minutes. I close my eyes for a second and stop typing. Tilting my head side to side my neck cracks, what sensational relief.  I open my eyes, she is still standing there, muttering and yammering. I shrug my shoulders, it coincides nicely with a high note, but ultimately it is just me resigning myself to having to hear more of those noises. Deep breath, nice and slow.

I lift up from the valley of the Yough river. Turning south and pulling far back up into space. I spin South and find Fayeteville. Gliding high above the plateau I hover for a second over the New River Gorge Bridge. People jump from this thing, that's insane. I drop down and fly under the bridge feeling like Will Smith in Independance Day chasing aliens. Swinging down by the river I fly so close the spray from the waves at Fayette Station splash onto my face. So refreshing and so cleansing this water is, it must have been created with some bigger purpose in mind than just to form valleys. I can see rafts and kayaks and canoes, I see campers and hikers. I see smiles and clear heads and happiness. I slow to a hover and touch down on the bank of the New River. I strip of my shirt and pants and dive in. Cold water, my body absorbs the shock and I surface to gasp at air. I catch my breath and head back under, opening my eyes and seeing blurry rocks and plants, such beauty and peace. A bright flash catches my eye, a large fish off to my left.

The door swings back shut, faux smile locked and loaded. Stomach bound and heart in my throat. My 10:30 appointment just arrived.