The Recliner

I lost control over my whole body. Only a few times did it happen to me, but it took over with such force.

It felt like my mind was shut off from the world, only it wasn’t. I could sense my surroundings as clearly as ever -  I could watch everything without seeing, I could feel everything without touching -, as if I was floating, watching myself from above; my soul, my pain, covering everything in the room. I sensed the wrinkled cold white sheets underneath my body warming up to it, I sensed the flowers, the white and pink orchids he had given me, withering in the white vase on my nightstand.

And for all I could sense, I could not come to feel my feelings. I was numb. My body was in fetal position, everything tight, contracted, from head to toe, but I was numb; mind detached from body so completely that I couldn’t send signals, I couldn’t move, I didn’t care to move. The pain, the sorrow, the suffering, everything was there, in my body. Actually, not just in my body, they were it; the body wasn’t me anymore, just materialized feelings: grief and mourning and sadness all molded into a sobbing fetal-curled young man.

Somewhere in the room, I could feel him staring at me with burning, reproachful eyes, glaring at the sad weak person lying on the bed. His face was tainted with disgust at how feeble I was.

How could he not know? After so long together, how could he not know the damage it would cause? What did he expect? Cheers? Acceptance?

I felt him get up from his ugly brown recliner. As numb as I was, I could still feel how much I hated having that horrible recliner in our room. I could hear the sound of the leather as he pulled himself up coming from the corner. I heard his footsteps splashing on the whisky-soaked rug, his feet shoving aside the fallen glass and the torn off clothes. I felt his arm stretch out to touch my head; I felt the static on his open hand has it approached. My body twitched. He recoiled. He never did touch me.

Coward.

He felt uncomfortable and impatient. He wanted to leave but he didn’t know if he should. He straightened the lapel on his suit looking around as if trying to find an excuse to go.

“Leave” the sound came out from my mouth like a whisper, without me even noticing.

“What?” he asked. His face a mixture of confusion and disapproval.

“LEAVE!” I suddenly shouted. My body suddenly on its knees, eyes shut, my hands angrily pulling my hair behind my head.

He was startled. He took a step back and almost fell.  He started looking for his stuff and has he reached for his wallet on his nightstand I started screaming again.

“LEAVE! LEAVE! LEAVE! Just LEEEAVE!” I kept shouting. My body turning to him as he crossed the room towards the door, tripping on the clothes lying around. “LEAVE! LEAVE!”

I heard him grab his keys and then close the entrance door behind him. I was alone again. The apartment too empty and still too small for my grief.

I fell on the bed again.

“Leave. Leave. Just leave” I kept uttering the words despite their loss of meaning. I was still crying.

I cried myself to sleep.



When I woke up, I felt warm. The bright light of noon streaked the room with its gold shine. My eyelids cemented by the dry salt of teardrops made it impossible to open my eyes right away. I relished in that warm cozy feeling of the light, feeling like the night before had been a dream, like I was everything was just beginning a new, with new hope.

I turned my head to face the wide balcony window and forced my eyes to open. The gold overwhelmed my sight, making it hazy. I couldn’t help but smile as I started to distinguish a shadow in front of the window.

“I forgive you. Don’t leave me.” I managed to say with my mouth dry.

No one answered. It was just the recliner.