Searching For Ali

Oh Ali, I'm stuck. This morning I feel your hand at play. Uncertainty fuels my intention, my goal. It's been a good lead up. The morning news was not unsettling. Food is appropriate. Only one coffee. A pleasant phone call. The sun is shining. I've done all that is necessary. But here I am again. All I need is to turn that key. To sound off verbally. "The door is locked". To remember that fact, and to walk away. And to walk away. To walk away..

A hour later, this is the fifteenth time I've been around that block. To the car and back. The window down, the radio on. Warming up. Stop, check again. Stop, check again.

At it's peak, I'm mere steps away, the world turns blank and my memory with it. My palms sweat. My ears ring. The floor like waves as if to swallow me whole in shame. I want to vanish in shame. I want to die. There is no me left. There is something wrong with me. Last time I even managed to get the car started and get around the corner, before turning back around at top speed and bouncing back into the driveway. Heaven help me if it breaks. You were the handiman Ali. You could fix anything. But not my broken heart. No.

You know I swear it's the tablets, but the pyschiatrist, he knows best. He tells me it's the pressures of life that cause this. I don't note any pressure. It's grief. They don't see the difference at the hospital. They tell me I'm wrong, but I know that I'm right.

With the both of you being gone, it tears me in two every time I realise. But I see you there. Swollen tummy, kicks, giggles and photographs. The second shower, your brother arriving late and spoiling the reveal. All of this feels like now.

But this, this is supposed to be simple. I'm supposed to be turning a key and walking away. These pills pills, they make me feel disconnected. They make me want to vomit. They make me see things despite never seeing things before. Talk about the cure being worse than the dis - ease. I can just hear the lab coats now Ali, they pulled the rug from under me.

"If you stop your regimen without our guidance you will relapse" | the lab coat and his pen, pointing as if a conductor on the orchestral line. tap tap tap.

"I'm warning you". "This treatment is necessary to ensure you are safe to go home". "Stop resisting and the pain will stop". "We know you don't consent but your'e under health orders".

Screaming in agony, emotional and physical. Darkness. Static. Pain, Convulsion. Waking in chaos, shaking my head with a sponge in my mouth.

Sixteen! Lost in the moment, again I turn, I take one step, and I forget.

Sixteen! Is it locked? One two three, tap tap tap, one two three. The door is locked.

"This is the time someone will some and break in. This is what happens when you fail" "Much like with Ali this time it will be your fault" Doubt comes in threes, creeping in. "one two three one two three" the sound of the door being tested. One day the lock handle will break, and then it truly will be secure. One two three, one two three.

Doubt leads to anger.

"This time they will take your diary. They will tear you apart with what they glean from it. They will hurt your dog. They already know what you are. Filthy queer. What about my wife. She doesn't understand. She's still celebrating. She's still holding her stomach and swaying to the beat. If they break in they will take whats left of her in that urn and they will throw it all over the floor. If they do that then they succeed. She won't be around anymore. Your'e not allowed to marry her. Your'e supposed to settle for a man. Choose a husband. Don't be THAT girl."

I wobble through flashes; our pride flag, the smell of the breeze, a wedding cake at the ceremony, eloping in the country with a handful of friends. No parents welcomed. A birthday barbecue that was indeed our middle finger to the world. A well meaning friend who later revealed to have slipped something into Aleissa's virgin bubbly.

The two of us sharing it, taking sips like aristrocats. Photos. The bouquet. Bottle after bottle of harmless fun. Hours later arrived in an instant, all of it to waste - the flash of a wrecked station wagon and her limp crumpled body hanging upside down out of the passenger door. IVF was successful but because of the trauma I lost everything that day. Just what you deserved for gambling your soul. Doubt stands over me, arm extended with the finger pointed squarely at my head. YOU INVITED HIM!

Perhaps what they said is true. I truly am stupid. I should never have invited him. He brought the drugs. I didn't know when we asked him to pitch in for us to become parents. But Ali I am so so hopeless without you.

Ali honey, I'm completely screwed. I can't even get out the door on time. When they come and take Sandra away from me, then it will of course, all be my fault. So if it's that important why can't I remember? Why can't I remember. My daughter is dependent on me. If I don't make the appointment on time then it goes against me. I need you Ali, I need you.

"It's a doctors appointment for love's sake." said the lab coats. "Keep up the appointments and there's no reason to worry". Hospital in the home.

"We need you to go twice a month for blood serum levels and twice every other month for review on medications. If you don't show up then things can go sideways very quickly. If you fall off the rails again then we can't assure you you'll be allowed to speak for yourself again. And regarding your child, well that will come down to the health department and their asessment."

Every single time I'm due to be somewhere on time my heart rises into my throat and sits. It's like a heavy dog, leaning in. My heart beat slaps like thunder, drowning out my hearing, my sense, my inner voice. It is the delerium.

The risk is I lose our child because I'm out of wedlock. Your'e gone. I lose my mind if I don't keep up the tablets. Because your'e gone. I lose my life if either of those happen because I've seen what happens to kids in the system. I am one of those kids. I survived it all. The onslaught, The assault. The hands of a caregiver all over me. But your'e never gone. But you are. Gone.

When I freeze, I am all tears, flowing. I remember you Aleissa. Nothing phased you. The law in our state. The men and their quips about dykes on bikes. The offers to turn us both around by the less sinister yobs. Running together at the beach. Your radiant smile aglow over your shoulder hurrying me along. My belly beginning to show. Photos of Sandra and the ultrasound for 2.

You were my problem sovler. My angel heart. The one who took my under my wing. When Sandra was born all you kept saying was that you wanted number 2. You were so jealous but in such a beautiful way. You nurtured me the way I've never been nurtured before. All the time you were here. And your'e not.

"All we have to do is find another man, someone who will play along with our hearts desire... You butter him up with cakes and I'll take care of the bedroom stuff. A kind man, someone with a strong work ethic. God will take care of the rest"

True to form. It's you. All you have to do was look at the problem, ponder it, and away you would go. Hands at the toil. Bopping along, listening to your music. All the while the worlds problems would vanish. But not my broken heart. No.

Not for me. No. Not this time. Seventeen. Why can I count these failures, these about turns, the painful shameful and tearful power march back from the running car to check the door again. The screeching of tires. The champagne in the back seat. One over turn and a boulder hiding in the shadows to bring it all asunder.

EIGHTEEN

Why won't you let me breathe out? I see you by the car. "Come on sweetheart, it's locked, lets go" | but you aren't really there. And your assurance means nothing. Your'e gone. How could you leave me alone with this pain? What about Sandra. How can you do this to me. Stop smiling and fucking help me!!!. I am doubled over, floor spinning around me, I want to vomit from this pain.

The world has gone black and white. The coloured stone in the driveway is pale in comparison. Every single sound around me is amplified. The agony escapes me like a child on the lamb.

Wailing at the sky I am trembling from head to toe. I feel the sickness, the toxicity claiming me moment by moment.

"Lithium is good for you, valporate is good for you, the olanzapine is good for you" over and again, the lab coat is a spectre above me. I hate the lab coats so much. They know it all but they are so full of shit.

I hear footsteps crunching on approach. I'm curled into a ball, fetal. All I want is my Ali. All I want is 2. All I want is you. Wailing, monotonous, static.

I only said I wantd to do it. I only embellished with the nurse because she said I was in a safe space. She held my hand. So I was honest. If I could have killed everyone in the waiting room just to have you both back I would. I wasn't lashing out, I was in pain. But no. Nobody sees that.

In their book that makes me a monster. Not a grieving widow. Not a parent missing their unborn child along with her. Not allowed to have emotions.

"Control your emotions" says the lab coat."If you can't control your emotions then we will restrain you and use injections". Screaming in terror while I see you stand over me Ali. A smiling spectre, a happy pregnant blushing bride, a glass of tainted champagne in your hands. How can you be so happy when I am going through so much. Where are you Ali? Come and save me Ali.

A psychotic single mum who doensn't deserve to raise her child on her own. "A danger to herself and to others." Lab coat one recounts to lab coat two. The room is dark except for their flashlights.

Eighteen. Screaming aloud at the sky, I fall to the floor. Darkness. Convulsion. Vomiting. Toxicity has claimed me in the furore. A cacophony of sounds.

"Paula? Paula are you there. Paula, honey, squeeze my hand...."

I'm frozen, I hear them all, but I have no spark. My spark is gone. I'm lurking in my own shadow. I'm waiting for you to take me Ali. Take me away from this place. I am but lost.

Another hand on my forehead. My eyes peeled back one by one. Brightness from the torch that is painful. Cold sheets. The room echoes. The lab coats talk aloud as if I'm not even here. My head is twitching uncontrollably. I cannot speak but I'm screaming at the top of my lungs from the inside out.

"Don't worry. Your'e safe here. I'm sorry about your daughter. You won't be able to see her until you overcome this. In the end it will all up to your attitude towards your treatment, especially after your last stay. Can't have you hurting yourself or anyone..."

On the table is a court order stapled to an affadavit. My right eye strains to make out the detail. Cover letter states that "the survivng family is now ward of the state."

"Don't worry Paula, I'll leave the light on for you.". I scream in agony.

On exit, the lab coat looks back, and shakes his head. The door closes, and using the external switch, turns the light off anyway. Pitch black. Ali is nowhere to be found.

End of line.

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Cathery | I am an Independent Actor, Writer and Voiceover with have aspirations in systems architecture.

My opinions are my own, and are not endorsed by any brands that I mention in my written work.

This is a fiction story, between 600 and 3000 words. It is submitted to the Vocal + Fiction community. It is original and unpublished.