Your Words Fall on Nothing

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They enter the room together, she leaning against him, he pressing her close. They shuffle, almost stumble, eyes on the floor. Their faces are pale, creased and streaked with grief. He guides her to a cushion. She lets him seat her, her movements suggesting that perhaps it is not because she needs him but, instead, because she is too tired to resist. His mouth moves, saying something, but here all words are drained of life and fall silent as autumn leaves on a slow, eddying stream. A brief shake of her head satisfies him. He goes to his laptop waiting on the desk and opens it. The screen flickers, resolves, causing a single window to appear: pictures of faces appended to lines of words. He rubs his face, takes a few deep breaths, and adds a few of his own. They did their best, but today we lost her. Her body is at the hospital. We have returned home. We are locking the doors and disconnecting the phones. Finished, he returns to her.

She sits, slumped forward, head down, long, black hair hiding her face. He settles onto the cushion next to hers, putting his arm around her shoulder and patting her in what he hopes is a reassuring way. The loss of a child is something no parent should go through. We are so sorry for you. If there is anything you need, we are here for you. Her stillness robs the gesture of its cloak of human sympathy, exposing its core of total insignificance. He pulls his hand away, embarrassed—perhaps frightened—by his own inadequacy. She was a beautiful child. You have our deepest condolences. He might not have been there. Keeping you in our prayers. Minds vacillate between lampshades full of moths banging against the light and red lasers piercing the night, a terrible focus that, flickering, is gone, and then not. She shudders and shrugs off his hand. It falls and lays twitching: a dying bird She will never truly be gone in his lap. so long as you love and remember her.

She revives and pushes him away. He resists. Please guys She slaps him in the face a sloppy blow, bereft as it is of love, don’t do this. Don’t lock yourselves in. crushing his nose to one side and freeing blood. And then he’s on his feet, fury clenching and unclenching fists, words raging across lips. Let us help you. You need to be around other people. But she is, not to be forgotten, a screaming, wailing banshee, eyes sunken, lips stretched thin, lost in the lust to hurt. He sees this, and in seeing, leaves.

We are so sorry. Wracking sobs steal her every breath. If there is anything we can do, we’ll be right there. Don’t go. She gasps, struggles, surrenders, her body curling to embrace the table. Her back heaves, the strain and tears rendering her face puffy and red. She was, and will always be, in our hearts, the most beautiful She pauses only a moment, and sweet child who ever graced our family. Your loss is unimaginable. No one can know what as if listening, but not looking, not moving her head, perhaps remembering, and continues crying. you are going through.

Just heard. Please call. You’re not answering. He enters, a wad of tissue jammed in his left nostril. He slams a bottle of whiskey and two glasses onto the table and then plops down across from her. Don’t do this. Don’t blame yourselves. You were She looks at him, looks at the whiskey, and barks out a single, mirthless, soundless laugh. Her face full of spite, she says something, maybe a question. He nods. the best parents. It’s not your fault. Always remember that. Pick up the phone. Let us help you. After pouring their drinks, he empties his in one go and pours himself a second. She sips, half-lidded eyes following his hands, probing his face. You have our deepest sympathies.

Hearts are curious things: tough as knuckles, but exposing us to the world and all that happens on its painted stage.

He hurls his glass against the wall. It shatters above her head. She’s in a better place: “And the Lord said: Suffer the little children to come unto me.” She cringes, but only a little. She drinks again, ignoring him. Has it happened before? He gets up, kicks and punches the wall, losing himself in the lust to revenge. His attack is vicious. Spittle flies as he yells soundless, impotent. She calls out, maybe to stop him, but he Why aren’t you answering? Please answer. doesn’t hear. Spent, he sits, breathing hard. Breath turns to tears. The pain in his bloody hands is a white throbbing, fuzzy in the distance. You can’t do this on your own. I know you hurt. I know the world is pain and you can’t imagine life without her, but you must go on. You can’t give up.

She touches his shoulder. He pulls her to him, his rage gone for the moment. They lay down, clinging to each other. That won’t bring her back. She doesn’t resist. They cry. Together. They fall asleep. I won’t It is night outside the window. presume to tell you what It is snowing. The world wheels oblivious. she would’ve wanted. I have no idea.

Only…she is awake. But I will tell you that I love you guys.

She rises and walks I want to help you. Please, to the wall of photos. She lifts one from its hook if you read this, and looks at it a long time, taking in the three smiling faces, call me. causing her own face to take on something resembling a grin. She flings it like a Frisbee, as if she were in a park on a warm, summer day; as if she were playing with her child and her husband I will keep trying to call you. You are was standing nearby. The whole thing—picture and frame—bangs against the wall, leaving loved more than you know. I don’t want a faint impression. Plastic breaks but doesn’t shatter, denying her satisfaction. to lose you, too. She yanks another from the wall and hurls it across the room. It, too, Your mother called and told us the news. I am so sorry. Wish I could be there for you. fails to smash, though a piece of frame tinkles against a glass on the table. We love you.

Again and again We all love you. she tries, screaming as she does, her mouth a black circle framed in pale red, and as the last bits of plastic Does anyone know their address? Maybe someone can go check on them? and, yes, even glass, settle to the floor, she is clawing at her hair, ripping strands I tried to find it, but not even the embassy free, wailing something, knows their home address. perhaps a name. Then he is Any ideas? there, grappling her from behind. And though she struggles There’s got to be an emergency number we can call. to free herself, what she has become—what her face shows—is something from which there is no return, no setting of the moon and no absolution to banish. We love you. Tell us where you are. She knows this. In grief, in the connections between, can be seen a glimmer of true humanity, only for a moment because it is blinding.

There’s nothing any of us can say He wrestles her to the floor to erase the pain, pinning the howling, nothing anyone can do. convulsing body beneath his weight. But please don’t forget how much He shouts for her to hear. She almost frees we care about you two. herself, her face ragged, his livid red, but then, suddenly, her body goes slack. He rolls off of her. She will always be gone, but you are both still with us.

They lay again for a long time, Don’t forget that. both of them crying, becoming still, crying again. Don’t leave us. They whisper to each other—at least, it looks as if they are Love. whispering. They nod, reaching some kind of agreement. Love yourselves.

He leaves. Love is all. She sits at the table and But we don’t know their address. And can anyone of us speak the language? pours them both drinks. I can. Someone’s got to have their address. She takes hers in one swallow and refills her glass. Come on, people…

He enters, carrying a medicine bottle. Jesus loves you. Sitting across from her, Shut up! Now is not he sets the bottle the time for that. on the table between We’re trying to help them. them, raises his Maybe we can’t. glass and None of us even knows where they are. then drains it. She refills his glass. We never even knew them well enough to know that Maybe the nod he gives her is simple thing. thanks.

What does that Their eyes lock on the say about little plastic bottle. us? After some And you think time, he opens it and we can help them? spills its contents Asshole, across the tabletop, the oval capsules wobbling over the hard wood surface.

He takes another drink this is not the time. and then scoops up a half-dozen pills and shovels them into his mouth, swallowing them with another drink of whiskey. She, on the other hand, You’re being totally rude proselytizing picks them up one at a time, placing each one on her tongue and then swallowing them with a sip of whiskey. right now. Eight times she repeats the sacrament. Keep it in your pants and help us out here.

When they do meet each other’s eyes, it’s almost by accident, and the faint lines of awkward smiles flick across their tired faces. Shut up all of you!

As the sky outside the window I can’t believe anyone would be so changes from black to indigo, and the flakes of snow crass as to do this now. can been as falling, soft gray shadows, she lays her head on the table and goes to sleep. What kind of fucked up people are you? Seeing this, he pushes himself to his feet and stumbles to the corner where a stack of blankets wait. You’re so right. When I have problems, I don’t want other people talking about theirs. He lays one across her shoulders. He takes I know them very well, thank you. one for himself, pulling it up over himself as he lays down next to her, his eyes closed even before You’re all crazy. his head rests against the floor. So They don’t want our help. Can’t you see that? the window lightens and I know someone the room darkens to fade from view. who might speak the language. Maybe they can help us. I’ll call them. I’ll let you know how it goes soon. You've got to be kidding. There's no way we can help them. They don't want our help. Shut up! Jerk! Go away! Please, everyone calm down. They need us. They're out there, alone, and hurting. Keep that in mind. Does anyone know if that guy found help yet? He said he'd be back soon.