Chris Can't Leave

On Monday, she was in bed
She didn't get out of bed
And neither did he

He was in his own bed
Two states away
A guest bed
That his friend had made up for him
When he called saying he had left her

Chris had left April
Wasn't that something?

That was on Friday
And the weekend had been a barrage
Of phone calls and text messages
Pleading and begging
Crying voicemails
And more phone calls
This time from friends
Demanding that he go back

How dare he leave like that?
How dare he?

He had figured out a long time ago
That everybody would side with April
How could you not?

She was the sweetest girl alive
But he didn't love her
So he left

Then on Monday night, he fell asleep
For the first time
Felt tired
Not just exhausted
But just a normal tired
And it felt good
To just be tired
Just because of the day
And not anything else

He woke up in bed with her
Feeling very confused
Not being able to speak
Or move, really

He didn't feel a body
Or a mind
He just felt there
He felt very much there

There was April
Laying in bed
The covers pulled up to her eyes
Which were blood-shot
And puffy

He felt secure for some reason
He felt warm and secure
But cold at the same time
And very much alone

He felt an overpowering loneliness
And confusion
Just this endless confusion
That seemed to wallpaper the room

This room seemed sinister
But he couldn't leave it
He had no will to leave it
And he was terrified to turn even a little bit right
Because that's where the mirror was
And he really didn't want to look in the mirror

He lay there for hours
Not feeling hungry
Not feeling thirsty
Not feeling anything
But a dry hot stone
Being placed in the center of chest

Making him gasp
When he could breathe fine
Making him grab for air
When he was merely laying in bed
A normal activity
That had become a fight
A fight to live
A fight to not close your eyes
And disappear

This was his Monday night

He woke on Tuesday
Telling himself it was a dream
But he picked up his phone anyway
And called April

She picked up immediately
And immediately he felt guilty

Why had he called her?
He said he wasn't going to call
He shouldn't have called
He didn't have to call
It wasn't his job to call

Two years is a long time
But it's over, and when it's over
You're supposed to just go
Nobody says you have to call

'Chris?'
'Hi.'
'Hi.'
'Are you okay?'
'Are you kidding?'
'I mean--where are you?'
'Honestly?'
'Yes.'
'I'm in bed.'
'Oh.'
'I've been here for hours.'
'That's...I'm sorry.'
'It feels like there's a--this--'
'Like you're underwater? Like it's slow? Like it's all really slow?'
'Yeah. How did you know?'
'Uh--'
'You feel that way, too? Don't you?'

Shit

He did NOT feel that way
But he had FELT that way
In the dream
Only in the dream

'I gotta go.'
'Please, can we talk?'
'I'm sorry, April, I can't.'
'I miss you so much.'
'You need to get out of bed.'
'I can't.'
'April, get out of bed.'

Then he did what he shouldn't have done

'If you get out of bed, I'll call tomorrow.'

Silence

'Okay'

Want to hear something strange?

He felt like if she didn't get out of bed
He'd be back there tomorrow night
Right there with her

. . . . .

On Tuesday, he was a little anxious
He did not want to get into bed
After feeling like he'd been in bed
While completely awake
The entire night before

So instead, he sat up and watched tv
And ended up falling asleep
While the sounds of Wheel of Fortune
Became the soundtrack
For April's Tuesday

He was standing next to her
At the airport
At the ticket counter
Feeling incredibly annoyed

Every sound seemed to be a buzz
Every sound that wasn't Pat Sajak

Wasn't it bad enough that he had to live in April's day
Without his boring night creeping into it as well?

And why was he so irritated?

Every time someone talked to April
It was like mosquitoes attacking his skin
From all sides

The notion of eternity expanded
As the line of angry people
Never seemed to end

Was this what April's job was like?
How was it she always managed to come home happy
Whereas he had a job he loved
And still found it difficult to smile
When he walked through the door
And found her languishing in the kitchen
Staring at a casserole pan
As if she could just make something appear

But smiling
Always smiling

Smiling now felt like grating your own face
Up against a barbed wire fence
But smiling was what you had to do
So April was doing it
And Chris was doing it
And the only thing that made him feel like
He wasn't going to explode
Inside the life of April
Was the thought of a phone call
Coming in the near future

That something so small
Could keep him holding on
In a sea of stupidity
Where a woman was actually claiming
That she should be able to get to Taiwan
In under six hours
Was absolutely astounding to Chris

He woke up to the morning news
His least favorite thing to wake up to
And he instinctively reached for the phone
To call April and see if she was okay

The thought of her doing that job
Day after day after day
With no virtual end in sight
And now alone on top of it
Convinced him that she was going to try and harm herself
In the very near future

But then he put down the phone
He couldn't call this early in the morning
It would make him look like he wanted to get back together
And he did NOT want to get back together
He just wanted to make sure April was okay

There was a compromise: He would text her

'You okay?'
'...Yes'

She even wrote out the ellipses

He was becoming the one with the 'problem' now
Before long she was going to be totally fine
And he would be the insane one who couldn't let go

Would that be a problem?

I mean, if she was fine
And he was fine
Wouldn't that be the ideal situation?

He decided that the only way for them to be 'fine'
Would be if they were both in control and acting mature
And intelligently communicating with each other

'You're not going to kill yourself, are you?'
'I wasn't planning on it.'
'Good'
'Is this what counts as a call?'
'I guess it could?'
'Okay then'

Good--not going to kill herself
And the call for the day is completed
Maybe this would be a good day

He'd taken sick time at work
And he wanted to suggest that April do the same
She really shouldn't be doing that job
In any state of depression

'April?'
'I thought you were all set for today?'
'I was--but I realized something--'
'That you've made a terrible mistake?'
'No, I haven't realized that.'
'Okay.'
'You should go on a vacation.'
'A vacation?'
'Yeah'
'By myself?'
'Why not?'
'Because sad people do that.'
'Aren't you sad?'
'I meant sad like pathetic.'
'Oh...'
'Is that the reason you called?'
'Yeah, pretty much'
'Well...thanks'

He wanted her to go somewhere nice
In case he wound up stuck with her again

God, that sounded awful

Not stuck with her
But with her life
With those feelings
With those unbearable feelings

If he was going to have to live in that place
Maybe he could at least be on a beach

But what if there were attractive men on that beach?
What if there half-naked men on the beach
That would want to get April into bed?

Chris wouldn't want to be there for that

He needed to end this
He needed to end these nightly...mares

Something had to be done

. . . . .

On Wednesday, he checked into a hotel
He just couldn't chance it
He couldn't chance going back to that ticket counter
And hearing a four-hundred pound man ask April
To explain to him
Why he couldn't just ride in the cockpit
Rather than buy two seats

It was a lovely hotel
And Chris was happy to be there
It made him feel like he was vacation
Maybe that's why he had suggested a trip to April
Maybe he needed to be suggesting it to himself

So he checked into the hotel
And got into the hotel room bed
And passed out immediately

He woke up in hell

Otherwise known as Nancy's house
Nancy is April's best friend
Chris calls her Cyclops
Because she has a weird skin discoloration on her forehead
That looks like an eye

Not only was Cyclops present
At what appeared to be a 'girl's night'
But Funky Flora who always smelled like potato chips
And Cece the STD were also there

'He was ugly as shit'

And they were talking about him

'He was so damn ugly'

April was defending him
And he felt defensive
Instantly defensive
He didn't want to hear anyone talking badly about himself
Which he supposed was normal
But somehow it felt different
He felt protective of himself
And stupid for feeling protective at the same time

'Looked like a kitchen sink'
'Cece--'
'Full of dirty dishes'
'That's enough'

That's when Nancy started handing out the wine

'He walked out because he knows you can do better'

She can't do better
Chris was sure she wouldn't do better
He was amazing
He was just confused
He was coming back!

Wait, no, he wasn't coming back

What was she thinking?
And why he was thinking it?

Oh God, this was awful

She had moved past depression
Into unsupported hope
It felt wonderful
Like giving in to a bowl of ice cream
When you really need to be chewing on celery sticks

Why was she hopeful?

It was wonderful
But WHY?

'You know what I think?'

That you need to shower, you smelly bitch?

'Flora, I know you didn't like him'
'It's not that I didn't like him. I just knew he would leave.'

No she didn't!
He didn't even know he was going to leave
How did Funky Flora know?

'He had that look in his eyes. Like he was holding back something.'

He was holding back gagging
Because every time Flora was around
It was like swimming in rotten fruit

'I think you're better off.'

And here comes Cyclops
Bringing up the rear
Of the Bitch Race

'If he doesn't see how wonderful you are, then screw him.'
'Screw him.'
'SCREW...HIM.'

They toasted their glasses to this
To the notion of screwing Chris

How lovely of them
To get their heart-broken friend
Drunk and dwelling

'I just miss him, you know?'

He felt the loneliness well back up inside him
How quickly hope gave way to that
How come that seemed to push through
No matter how much else you put on top of it?

'We understand, honey.'
'But it'll get better.'
'Time heals, April. It does'

The Hallmark Whores, listen to them

'It's just that there's so much...There's so much that could happen, that might make it better...but if he'd just come back...it would all be better right away. So it's hard to think about the longer road, you know? It's hard to think about how long that road is compared to if he just came back...It's hard.'

It felt hard
Hard felt like the right word
But like a word
That had gained so much more weight
More weight than he knew was possible
For a word to retain

He woke up in the hotel room
With the maid knocking on the door

He couldn't figure out why
But he didn't want to get out of bed

He just let the maid knock
And waited
Until she went away

. . . . .

'Your friends hate me'

It was the daily phone call

'Do you blame them?'
'Yes. There's no reason to hate me.'
'You broke my heart.'
'Relationships don't work out.'
'Yes, when one person is an asshole with severe psychological problems, they do tend to end rather prematurely.'

Wow, she was growing a spine
That was fast

'I'm sorry you feel that way.'
'I doubt you're sorry about anything.'
'I can't force myself to feel something, April.'
'And you don't worry about that?'
'No, I mean, what can I do?'
'You have deeply hurt someone you've supposedly loved for a very long time and you don't feel anything about that. And that doesn't--worry you?'
'Well...I can't force myself to worry now either, can I?'
'You're really an idiot.'

And for the first time
She hung up on him

And he thought
Maybe I am an idiot
And then he started to worry

. . . . .

He showed up at his mother's house
That Thursday morning
But she wouldn't talk to him
Because she loved April
And wouldn't listen to reason

Everybody loved April
Everybody loved April but him

Did that make him a bad guy?

Maybe he was the one person
Who couldn't love April

Maybe that was his place in the world

It didn't matter

He was not going to go to sleep tonight
He just had to go through one night of not sleeping
And it would break this ridiculous cycle
And end this Twilight Zone episode
Directed by Nora Ephron

His childhood bed was smaller than he remembered
Which he supposed was normal

But he found it odd
That his mother had kept the Ghostbusters bedspread on it

He was going to stay up
And it was going to be easy
Because this bed was incredibly uncomfortable
And because the closet door could never fully close
Which still scared the shit out of him
And because he could hear his mother crying in the next room
Because she wanted him to get back together with April
Because she wanted grandkids within the year

So he'd have no problem staying up
No problem at all

And he did
He did manage to stay up

He saw the sunlight come through the morning curtain
And heard his mother's alarm clock go off
And heard birds chirping outside

But then the closet door opened
And he was propelled into some empowering song
That involved being over some guy
And him needing to let the door hit him on the way out
And maybe Beyonce was singing it
And maybe Gloria Gaynor was singing it
And maybe he was going to die now
Because this felt like death

He saw his possessions flying through the air
Landing inside several nearly-filled garbage bags
And he started to recall that he had left far too many things
At the old apartment
Assuming that once April was feeling better about the break-up

(Or when she went to work and he time to sneak in with nobody noticing)

He could go in and reclaim his stuff

Apparently, this was not going to happen

AND HE FELT GREAT ABOUT IT!

He saw his golf clubs go inside the trash

GOOD!

He HATED those golf clubs!
He golfed too much!

He gave up precious Sunday afternoons
That could have been spent in bed cuddling with April
Just so he could GOLF!

Sometimes he golfed in the RAIN
Did THAT make any sense?

He saw his Scarface poster go into the garbage

GOOD!

It was a stupid movie poster
And it did not belong on a wall
As if it were art

There went every photo of him and his friends
That had ever been taken--EVER

GOOD!

His friends were morons
They encouraged him to dump April
And that was stupid
Because she was wonderful

Why did he listen to them?

They're big fat slobs
Who still think burping the Star-Spangled Banner
Is an actual skill

GOOD
GOOD
GOOD

Now everything was in the garbage
Which was where he belonged
He belonged in the garbage
With everything that had any association with him

Good for April!

He felt like dancing around
To Chaka Khan
And singing into a hair dryer!

SOMEBODY GET ME A HAIR DRYER!

That was when the closet door shut
And his bedroom door opened
And Chris' mother walked in
To find her son
Crying

Really, really, really crying

Like, hardcore

'Chris, what's wrong?'
'I'm...a...fool.'

Chris' mother crossed her arms

'Honey, I know that. I'm your mother.'

. . . . .

Friday he went back to work
Why not?
Why not work?
Why not at least attempt to be productive?

The day was bad
But not as bad as the airport day had been

Or the day in bed
Or the day with April's friends
Or last night

When he finally realized that April was a great person
And that he had let her go

And he didn't want her back
But he knew that he shouldn't have let her go
The way he did

She deserved better than that

He picked up the phone to call her
But he couldn't think of what to say

What do you say?

Honestly, what do you say?

'I'm sorry'?
'I messed up'?
'I'm almost convinced that I'm mentally unsound?'

He was more than worried now
He was terrified

How could he not feel anything?

Even now, after admitting that he was a total fuck-up
He still couldn't register wanting April back
He didn't want her back because he didn't love her
But the bigger worry was--

Could he love anybody?

But how did you say that?
How does anyone say that
And not sound like Hugh Grant
In the first half hour
Of a really bad romantic comedy?

Why couldn't he be Hugh Grant
In the LAST half hour
Of a really bad romantic comedy
When he was a redeemed man
And everyone loved him?

Nobody loves Beginner Hugh Grant
And that's who he was
He was Intro to Hugh Grant
The class you rewind past
Because he's such a jerk
And because the jokes aren't as good
Without the charm behind them

He sat for hours staring at the phone
And then it rang...

. . . . .

'Hi Chris'
'April?'
'That's right'
'Is this a real phone call?'
'No, this is your last hallucination.'
'Really? No more?'
'No more, Chris.'
'That's exciting!'
'I'm glad you're happy about it.'
'At least I have something to be happy about.'
'Not so thrilled with being single anymore?'
'It's not that I wanted to be single. I just...'
'You just what?'

Suddenly he saw parchment
He saw a quill
With a feather

He saw a letter being written

Dear April,

I felt like I was faking it. Like I was faking it all. My whole life. A fraud. Because I hated every part of it and because you loved it and it felt wrong to let you love it knowing it wasn't true. Knowing it was all just one big phony smile.

You deserved a real smile and Sunday cuddling and a big hug everyday after work. A man who would appreciate those awful, awful casseroles. A good guy.

I'm not a good guy, April. I tell myself that I am because if I don't tell myself that, how do you...anything? You know?

How do you get out of bed?
How do you go to work?
How do you keep going?

If you're an asshole, what do you do? Especially if you don't know how to stop being an asshole and your asshole-ness starts running through to other parts of your life and other people who are sweet and just want to be with you--what do you do about that?

I left.

I know you hate me for it, and that you'd have preferred it if we fought for this relationship with one lovely person and one horrible asshole who may never be anything else, but the truth is, it was better to just let it go.

It's better that I left.

I think you're starting to get that

'Yes, Chris, I am.'
'So you'll be okay?'
'Do you care if I'm okay?'
'Yeah, I really do.'
'I'll be okay, Chris.'
'Good.'
'Will you be okay?'
'Probably not, no.'
'I think you will be.'
'Do you have any idea when?'
'Why would I?'
'You're a hallucination--aren't you omnipotent?'
'No, because I'm your hallucination, and you know virtually nothing.'
'Well, that makes sense.'

There was a silence
He wondered if he had lost service
But then he remembered
That this was all in his head

So he had probably lost service
A long time ago

'I'll miss you, Chris.'
'I'll miss you, too.'
'You want to end this on a good note?'
'Is that possible?'
'In real life? No. But this way, we can have a nice-little-sort-of happy ending.'
'Go for it.'
'Remember when we went ice skating?'
'That was our seventh date.'
'You remember that?'
'I remember odd things.'
'Clearly. Anyway, when we went ice skating, you stayed with me the whole time.'
'That's what you do on a date.'
'But I was the worst ice skater ever. I don't even think we made it once around the rink.'
'It was cute. You almost fell--constantly. You were in a constant state of almost falling.'
'But you stayed right by my side. You hung in there with me even though I didn't know what I was doing, and I was terrible at what I was doing, and I messed up over and over again.'
'Yeah, well...'
'I would have done that for you, Chris. I really would have.'

Dear April,

I get it.

Sincerely,
Chris

'April--?'
'Yeah?'
'We both would have fallen if you'd have stayed by my side.'
'Yeah, maybe you're right. But I was willing to try.'
'So that's our happy ending?'
'The happy ending is that somewhere inside you is a very patient, caring, supportive man. He's trapped inside a moronic fathead, but he's there. He really is.'
'So I can hope?'
'Chris, all you can do is hope.'

. . . . .

He was at their door
Looking at their mailbox

Those two names
One on top of the other

And he thought...

She'll change the mailbox

That'll be what will happen

There will be changes

Until there are changes
It hasn't really happened

Until the mailbox is changed
Until his photos are detagged
Until new photos are posted
With new guys
At parties thrown by friends
He doesn't even know...

Until those things happen
He's still sort of here

He thinks about dropping the note
Inside the mailbox

Dear April,

I'm here if you need me, always.

Chris

But he doesn't
Because she doesn't
She doesn't need to know that

She doesn't need to know anything
About him

There isn't anything
She doesn't already know

And he walks into the street
And he walks out of view
From their apartment window

And he's left
And he's there
And he's tired
And he's unsure

When the next time is
That he'll be able
To sleep