Someone Wanted

You murdered someone loved, someone needed. You stole someone called home, known to spend the odd, good day away on board games and some laughs. You took someone paramount, unparalleled to any other. You murdered Connor. The worst part of the whole mess- you are Connor. A fatal attempt. A blunder. You left; Connor. A raw deal made when you should have been asleep. Do not go to bed angry, sad, whatever; what garbage on spousal success.

Go to bed- angry, sad, whatever. Just go to bed. Do not leave us all. Never that.

A lost year, maybe two, of foreshadow. A shadow over you, us, them. A year for sure ahead of that dreadful day of worry, fear, barely answered texts and cancelled plans.

You postponed and replanned, and an alternate playmate pushed. Me, well employed, and on a plan to change. ‘Yay, therapy.’ Movement, change, thoughts, learn to accept. "You ask for space," therapy says: "Yes, space," "borders can be healthy," "our type of persons can struggle, the codependency, you know" “trauma- blah, blah, blah”

Answered texts a replacement suggested, another found. One poor and one fun, both share the fact that they are not you.

That whole lost year: art, shows, beverages, all of them, all types. Asked you; you never came. Only come to those events you had to and happened to see me. Never alone, never for our fun, our escape, play, "you're my fam- where are you?"

"Come out?"

“Can’t, gotta help. Work.”

"OMG you'll love Bob Log- man, to watch you watch, to hear you laugh."

“Next one, maybe”

"C'mon, they'll be asleep, they got someone. You both don’t need to be here."

“Gotta stay, help, sleep”

"Sleep later, let's go out."

You gave me a hug, always so much taller than me.

"On me"

A stern look, your mouth curled upwards, your eyes down.

“Okay, soon.”

Don't care to seem desperate. When you love someone, you let them know they are wanted. Respect people, respect space and let them be. And let them know.

*At home to my partner:

" The future- he was always there, you know. All the plans, the talk. He has just stopped. Do we foster our love somewhere else? Why won't he connect anymore?"

"Chosen fam- that's what we have, and he's that, you know."

Reassured, "can't control other people", "plans change".

"He's unhappy. Needs help. The last convo- you don't know. He's got a head, well, same as the one on my shoulders, and he cannot heed what that asshole, that other person has to say They only have crap to say- they want to destroy. You know? Alone can be good, but not when that commentator's left on."

Reassured, “can't control other people", "plans change".

*Last convo- what a fucked-up joke- goddamn cruel. Me, head up my ass- call for help- heard- dropped the ball.

"...just no good. Those cubs, those people. We created- her and ..."

"You are good for them; they want you around. Whether or not people are together. Whether or not you need to be around. They need you. You do not have to be perfect. We just try, do better, don't hurt."

You “...”

"When you need space, get overrun, or your head gets loud - do your best you can be a person. That’s what you'll be when they are grown. They can know that you had to redo, get another go, now and then."

You “...”

*Texts hole. The drywall starburst.*

"There's me- fucked up and punched a wall. They weren't there, probably won't even know. They do know energy, when the adult, the parent should be calm... but can they see me say that ‘space’s needed’, they do not need see the stress, the flush of energy, the hurt. They see post-process; they see the reconnect. You can too. Process, you got coverage. Go to therapy- there's help there, some's gonna be the stuff from the books, the YouTubes we share, but there'll be stuff that's just yours. To want the process, to want change. You'll get somewhere better"

" Me gone, that's what they need."

"Not a chance"

We went on, the convo lulled, and you had been low before. There's the Annual Fam Golf Open, then a show, some band that sounds good- calm.

"Want to go"

"Can't"

"Okay- we can do better. Need to actually, need to go out, to see you soon, actually talk"

"We had our date"

"Fuck that man, that was over a year ago before you got all wedlocked"

"ya"

"not ya, want to see you. Let's go play, or we can sneak back and game- basement style"

*delete* pulled the convo to the left, the block turned red.

Gone.

Don’t want that there, we can do better. We’ll see each other soon. Need to. Guy. Connor Man, we need to. Don’t you know you need to.

Went to the fam jam. Went to the show- my head loud. Revved up- that hunched shoulder, eyes to the sky, where's the shoe?

Then looked for danger- you would have called me names- stopped me from my foolhardy ways. Tempt fate- seek death- or at least danger and damage. Seek god. Seek to be protected, to be overbold and yet okay.

Would be funny to tell you about the path that took me home- the dangerous path that people know better than to take, where the downtown people are, the unhoused and unsafe hangout spots. You would want me to smarten up, see me, and hug me.

Before bed the next three days- talked, texted, thought about you, not to you. Just about you.

Felt you- when he plotted to take you away. Felt that shoe. Drop.

Got a call that stopped my heart and just kept at the game. Lawn Bowl- strangers there could not talk, could not cry. Stop the game- you're gone. So stay and play- no one knows your gone, means you’re not, thoughtful math guys’ cat. You know one; the box. He can’t be dead and you aren’t, at least not yet. Not really.

Go home, nope, and tell them you’re gone. Not ready.

Sat there, my company the car clock. The clock moved hours, the car stopped. On pause. Kept Connor here, the between, the absence unknown.

Saw after that you looked for me, us, them, your fam. These Apps that let us see statuses, see when we are there... when we have been there. They fuel the search. The search for what else could have been done, could have been seen, could have been helped. The knowledge was there, there were gaps. You needed me. Needed someone to help you.

There was no body, orders were made, no one but her saw. Your spouse got to see you after. Nobody else got closure. No body.

No body, you’re not dead; the cat box.

Made the calls to the people we shared. Made sure they weren’t alone, drove near the houses they call home to tell them you, he, was gone. Hurt spread, more holes made.

For weeks and months, you showed up. No matter where, you were there. My dreams, my work, everywhere. My heart goes everywhere and so do you. You took someone loved by me.

Jog my memory: who was there, who was here? You knew, you had a key, a place to stay, could come by any hour, any day.

Why go alone?

Why go at all?

Why forget me?

‘Not all about me’- ‘not about me’ - stop the hurt then

Not about me- who's here? You? No.

We agreed, they, those people, the others trapped, these heads full of love and hate for ourselves. We separate- we allocate them to the corners or take them out to talk when we have wards and guards set. We share and heal. There are ‘no bad parts’ those people need our help- they do not get to lead.

Why hand over the wheel? The control. Your body.

You, you other, you loud, hurtful person should never have the wheel, you got control. You were seen, you were known. We watched you. Knew you. Could only hope that defenses were there, that he could keep you at bay, keep you out when you came by. Could lock entry and deny. You took someone loved, someone wanted, all because you could; you got control, and you hurt.

No one blames Connor; you needed help.

Yet, here you are, look at me, tell me why you left when you knew, yes you, you other, that you had me, that you were loved too. You could be you, you could hurt, be free and let Connor be. Let Connor stay. Why take someone loved away?