Last night, drunk on terrible wine I found in the back of my grandmother’s refrigerator, I walked for miles and miles beneath a violent rainstorm. It was 3 a.m. and I didn’t know what else to do with myself. I didn’t see any other people out. I didn’t expect to. My clothes got heavy with rainwater. After awhile I stopped feeling cold and my body went numb.
I called my father. I don’t know why I did that. I guess I didn’t know what else to do. When he picked up I told him I just wanted to hear his voice. I needed to hear someone’s voice, and his voice was the one I wanted to hear most of all. We talked for a long time. I told him it was difficult for me to do the normal things. I told him I had been so alone, and was much more alone now, and that I couldn’t figure out why everyone stays away from me, and why I was so easy to forget about. I told him I loved someone and that I didn’t want to live without loving that someone. I said I was so ashamed of being weak and sensitive. He said he didn’t think I was weak, and that it was good that I was a sensitive person because it is important to have to have people like that around. I realize that sounds like something you say to a toddler, but it still made me feel better.
When he hung up I kept walking through dark suburban neighborhoods. The rain fell harder. My socks and shoes were completely filled with water. My face felt raw from the rain. The tip of my nose was solid red. I got lost. I tried to navigate as best I could. It was so, so dark. I made it home an hour later. I was so wet and so cold I had to strip down in the doorway. I was still drunk.
In the dark I felt around the chair where my cat was sleeping. He was very warm. His chest rose and fell like a little accordion. I kissed his head and told him he was very special and that he made me very happy. I promised to take good care of him. I wrapped myself in a nest of blankets and lay there on the floor near his chair till the sun came up.