Alarm screamed out in the dark
just before 6am this morning — a
Saturday I thought earlier this
week wouldn’t start until sometime
after noon or so. I fumbled for the
button, found it and pushed it hard.
Blinked and tried to focus. Stretched
out and for a second was tempted to
close my eyes again for a few minutes.
But no, I knew I’d be in trouble if
I did.

Breakfast was quiet, with only the
light over the stove to see by,
before anyone else was awake.
Toast, with the last of the honey
drizzled over. Coffee. Ice water.
Started the dryer one more time
on my way by, to get the wrinkles
from last night out. Brought my
breakfast back to the desk and
dug into some old invoices I’d been
leaving behind, so they’d be paid by
Wednesday. I laugh, sarcastic, at
the idea. Turned on the radio softly,
for company. By 9:02 I was on the road.

Meet at the office, everybody’s
already there. Strategize The Plan.
“Who’s got the water?” Ok.. “Wait,
what about the bagels?” “They’re in the
truck”. Ok. Do we have enough
posters, tshirts, stickers? “Should
have. Grab some more?” “Yeah, we
better.” And we’re off to go hit the
streets to help a bunch of great guys
raise some cash.

“Wait!.. ” “No.. we can’t, no time, let’s go.”

South Reno, park and wait. No sign.
Where are they? Maybe running late.
Wait, is that..? No. Ok, we can come
back, let’s head to the next one. North
Reno. Filling balloons, handing out
shirts, saying thank-you’s left and right
as fast as I can spin around and face them
in all directions. Generosity. Excitement.
Laughing. For a second I forget I feel like
my life is being yanked out from under me.
Snap some shots, make some friends,
an hour flies.. and there’s our South Reno
guy.. “you on your way over?” “Yeah..
but I might need some help, there’s no
one else.” We go.

By now it’s 11ish. We get there a few
minutes after he does and we throw our
tshirts on, walk the traffic, walk the crowd.
Reach in windows, smile, shake hands.
Dead snake by the road. Red lights.
Hours go by, the sun gets brutal. I eye
my watch and remember the other
things that need to get done. We
pack in about 1 and head over to
Sparks. They’re not doing well, we
hand out more shirts, more stickers,
more posters. Spark conversations,
ignite enthusiasm. Joke about blackmail.
I can smell the coffee coming from
Starbucks and close my eyes for
just.. just a second.

The phone rings clipped to my
shorts. I wipe the moisture off
my forehead with the back of
my hand and answer. It’s the equip
company with the props ready
for me to pick up. “I’m only gonna
be here another 15 minutes. You’d
better come now.” Thank God. We
pack up and go, speed across town,
get all the gear and carry it back to an
already full car. The 11th hour.

That’s done.

Back to the office to grab some
last minute things. Check some
last minute messages. “Somebody
needs to go pick money up from
Jack” - he’s got a full bag.”

We all look at each other in
hopes that someone other than
our own selves would volunteer
to go all the way back out there.
Nobody does. We leave it.

“The enlargements are too dark, we
need to take them back and get
them redone!” Ack.. “but it’s after
3 now..” I’m in charge. I take them
over, the *poster guy* is gone.
Not gone for the day, gone for the
whole weekend. They’re “terribly
sorry.” We’re stuck. I bring them
and my disk back home. Frustrated.
Out of time. Hungry. Almost 4:30
now and no lunch. Stop and get
something to eat, head home.

“Wait!.. the party store. The balloons,
the helium tank.. it closes at 6.”
Suddenly it’s 5:41. I rush into the store
asking for the man I’m supposed to see.
He remembers, hands me the donated
bag of 100 balloons. I need to buy some
mylars, and a tank. We fill out lengthy
tank rental agreements. I play with some
string at the counter and decide to buy
it. Another $50 of my own money, gone
for the organization. Normally I wouldn’t
notice. This week I notice.
We talk on the way out to the car
about how he couldn’t do it, what
I do. I comment, half smiling, that I’m
not sure I can do it, either. I wonder if
he notices the exhaustion. I drive home
obsessing about the lack of wall art
and dark poster enlargements.

On my way back I remember
that Jack needs his money
picked up. I grumble, swing
by and get it. Thank him for
everything he’s done for us.
Take the money back to the
main station, and go.

The house is fairly clean, a surprise.
My boss calls the cell, “Do you have
Bill’s number?” “Not with me, at the
office.. do you need me to swing by
and get it?” “No, we’re in the product-
ion meeting until late - maybe I’ll try his
office.” “Alright, let me know if you change
your mind.” “Thanks, Tonya. Hang in there?”

Click.

I try printing smaller versions of the
posters on my own printer. I can’t not
have them. The printer streaks. I lay my
head down on the desk for a minute.
7:23. Pick up the phone, call the
manager at the print shop. “What about
this.. ” I say, and explain. “We can do
that, get them down here within the half
hour and they’ll be ready by morning.”
I manipulate the images fast, save
them in the right format, grab the disk
and announce I’m leaving again.
“Where now?” “I promise, last time
tonight. I’ll be back soon.” And I
go.

A motorcycle blows past me
around Windy Hill and I punch
the gas for a mile out of pure
need to get the negative energy
out. I scare him and he pulls
over, I blow by. I’m not in the
mood. I get there as the sun
is going down and the sky
is all salmon and gold. I notice that
I almost didn’t notice, and felt
something in my stomach twist
over that. The manager isn’t there
and the clerk has no idea what
I’m talking about. I try to explain
again, and leave there crossing
my fingers that we’ll pick up
the right stuff at 7am
tomorrow morning.

I drive home as the street
lights pop on, one by one.
Rubbing my eyes, yawning,
the white lines blurring on
the road ahead of me. Some
scent of a memory of what
my life was like before
creeps in, and I shake it out.
Then comes the empty space
left from earlier this week, and
I push that away too. My mind
plays tricks on me while the
hills vanish in slow motion
against the sky turning deep
purple.

I blink, and when I open my
eyes, I recognize the road.
It’s mine, but it looks like
it stretches out so far ahead
and I’m not getting any
closer to my driveway.

Then suddenly, I’m
getting out of the car,
and walking toward the
house. Knock on my own
door, because my keys
are stuck in the hole in
my pocket.

Set my alarm for 6am again.

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I spent most of the night curled up in a ball in my recliner with all the lights off, the ceiling fan on and the windows open. I could not push myself far enough into the fabric. I feel like I’m being crushed under the pressure of something and I don’t know what the source of it is, and I think it’s making me crazy, making the world look distorted from here. I’ve got a fever and I can’t explain why. I just stayed there tucked into that chair and hot and childish and stubborn and I didn’t care. I only wanted someone to be there sitting on the floor, quietly rocking it for me.

Eventually I gave up waiting and slid my leg down to
keep one toe on the floor so I could do it myself.

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