Ghost Chapters From The Green Books, #4
Kara Flies, March 25th, 2020
Remember the night we were married at Mount Sinai Hospital? Just five days before you died. Nothing would have dragged me away from you except that I hadn’t slept in many nights. When I left you had that hissing air pump over your mouth.
I said, “Goodnight, husband,” as I left.
You said, “Goodnight, wife.”
My cell rang in the middle of the night. “Mr. Grimshaw” lit up white on my black screen. But you weren’t there when I picked up. I frantically called the nurses station, and they connected me you.
“Nothing has changed,” you said, softly. Did you know then that you wanted to die?
My God, you could still talk then. Do you remember this, or was it all a dream to you by then? “Nothing has changed,” you said, but that must have been the night when everything did. The next morning the doctors told me the wouldn’t be operating. There would be no stent put in to help you breathe, no procedure. That was your last stay.
Often I scream until I am hoarse in my dreams; I can’t scream loud enough to release what I need to. What if on that night when you woke and didn’t find me there - what if that’s when things went worse? And what if I could have been there? What if I could have saved you? What if I could have done more? And what if I am still not doing enough now? Where are you, and why can’t I get to where you are? These are heavy regrets that I need to learn to throw over the edge of my boat.
Help me.
US Covid cases: 54,428; deaths 793; NY Covid cases:24,430 cases; deaths 271.
But that’s not the headline today. Last night I flew, Nick. I flew in my dream! That’s the headline. Kara flies! Maybe you were there with me. Maybe you know all this. Nevertheless, this is how it happened:
I’m frantic, trying to fit all my things into suitcases in order to get home. I see my wedding ring, my prompt to wake up in my dream. I actually see both of our wedding rings together on my finger. I feel my body buzzing. It’s not like any other kind of feeling. It’s a growing suspiciousness about the validity of reality. When that feeling gets strong I remember.
“We’re dreaming,” I say to myself. “Let’s not even check for our shadow- we are dreaming!”
That kicks me out of the plot of the dream in an instant. Boom. I’m awake. Now anything is possible. I’m buzzing. I’m behind the cinema screen. I’m inside the clockworks. I’m backstage where the illusion is constructed. It’s impossible to say how important this feels. I remember Andrew Holocek’s instructions. Once you are awake, try and walk through a wall.
“You can do anything. These walls aren’t solid,” I say. But I can’t believe enough to slide through. “You can do it, you are dreaming!” I insist.
And that is what pushes me into the air. Surprise! I lift off the heaviness of the dream earth and into the air, pushing very hard to get out of the habit of gravity. Maybe because that’s my way, that things have to be hard. And it’s my way to judge myself for the exact way that I take off into flying - I am ridiculous! Imagine all that wasted energy, not enlisted in flying, or in freedom.
But before I know it I am back, grounded in the plot, on my hands and knees howling. A small diamond-shaped ruby comes off the side of my ring, and a long slim bar of metal. I search the floor for a long time. Then there are pills mixed up in different bottles. There are missed taxis, planes, and boats. Finally you and I set out in a wooden dinghy because we discover we are actually on an island only an hour sail away from home. All of the travel brochures had promised at least a glimpse of the world. I vow to get even, Nick, even if it takes a lifetime.
I walked for almost two hours yesterday, nearly to Main Beach and back, taking my mask on and off when people passed. I sat on a bench at Guild Hall and it occurred to me - what if all of the supposedly ‘real’ stuff like our bodies, and time, and paperwork, and making money, and personality - what if all of those earthly things were only impediments to our growing love, which seems greater to me everyday? What if your leaving, and my stretching to join you, is what all this damn growing is about?
Kara this is so poignant and beautiful. Your last moments with Nick are difficult to journey with but I feel privileged to go there with you. Thank you for this intimate portrait of you and Nick.
Beautiful story. I look forward to hearing more. We need more stories about love and loss in the LGBTQIA+ spaces