I stand in the kitchen like I’m glued in place. No way could I have done this. I’ve got nothing to do with this. I run my hand through my hair, James style, and walk carefully over the broken glass toward the refrigerator. I reach for the broom that lives behind it. No way could this be me. No way could I have made this mess and not remember it. No way. And then walked across it and out the door.
I feel cold. My chest is cold. I start to sweep up the big pieces and build them into a pile. I swoop them into the dust bin and dump them into the garbage. Later I know that was a mistake, no glass in the garbage. But right now I want to get this clean.
I start the vacuum, hoping my neighbors aren’t awakened by the sound. Back and forth, it takes for ever with the machine having a weak lung system. I should invest in a new one. But right now, I take my time. Back and forth and I begin to feel calm and happy. I spend extra time changing the attachments so that I can get under the counter, in the corners. Glass was everywhere. I need to leave James a note.
I finish and wonder if there’s a problem with the glass inside the vacuum. What happens to that? I put it away and try not to think about that.
I keep my shoes on and I can’t sit down. I can’t do anything. The ugly big light overhead is one so I could see the glass. I turn it off and set the low lights I’ve put around the kitchen. James made fun of me “decorating” he called it. But after I showed him the lights, he agreed and shut up.
I relax enough to sit on the couch, but I can’t stay still long. I open the door and leave. Something happened in there and I don’t want that to be me. smashing up stuff. I walk which is the only guarantee for me. I walk. I walk. A cop car slows down and I wave. They ask what I’m doing out so late. I tell them about not being able to sleep. They ask where I live and I point. When i tell them the address, they roll their windows up and creep away.
I’m like broken glass. Not ever to be put back together again. How could I have done that? They make us talk about anger. Anger. That’s not something I’m ever going to be able to stay with. I’d be like that glass if I did. A million fragments, shards. I can’t believe I did that.
And then I remember what James told me.