Hey -ByNicholas Arthur
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I. I left the funeral and looked down as I got into the car. My fly had been unzipped the whole time. I had made sure I looked presentable before. I showered, getting everything combed and neat, forgetting one easy detail. It’s late July and my brain isn’t working right. All I can focus on lately is discomfort. The heat clears out the normal, benign checklist. Crowds it out, elbowing and clawing until my thoughts are a useless heap. Sweat-drenched in front of the fan. The needle jumps up and down at the end of the record, creating its own dull metronome. Voided out, only to wake up worried about unpaid bills. A day feels like weeks as you push yourself. You forget simple things, but you’re still efficient enough not to draw stares.
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II. I try to focus in on moments, hoping the day will slow. The lazy fade continues. And then, out of nowhere, I got a text from you. It was late and I was at a diner. The text said “hey.” Nothing more, nothing less. I brought you flowers a few days before. It was raining. You said you didn’t have time to talk or hang out. I got the hint. You had other places to be, no hard feelings. I hadn’t thought about it much since. Suddenly everything screeched to a halt. My surroundings came rushing in, lush in detail and nuance. I tried not to get too excited.
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III. “Hey” looked back at me. I tried to resume the conversation I was having with my friend across the table. I tried not to look distracted, but “hey” was persistent. It clung to every movement and sidetracked every thought. I needed a good response. A rush of possibilities came up, none of which was a good enough reply. I could imagine your fingers running through my hair. Undoing clasps, unzipping. Your breath on my ear. Were they talking to me? I spaced out again. How much time passed? I needed to get back to the present. I texted “What’s up?”
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IV. “What’s up?” just hung there. I kept getting phantom vibrations on my leg. I’d fish my phone out every time. Nothing. Just the two messages, staring each other down. I kept myself up all night with other things I could’ve said. I couldn’t relax. Couldn’t focus on the records I played or the TV shows I flipped by. Just “Hey.” I woke up with a jolt, the couch leaving patterns across my arms and face. My hair was perked up on one side. My hands reached for my phone. Still “Hey” and “What’s up?” Eyes locked through the night without faltering.
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V. Days dragged by and eventually ground to a halt. I felt dumb letting even a day pass, let alone a week. I fished out a joint I’d been neglecting. My feet carried me around the block inhaling deep, coughing into my sleeve. The green lawns looked greener, the stars looked brighter. A nice breeze rattled the branches above. There are more important things than waiting on a “Hey.� Life seemed full and limitless as I sunk under the covers.
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VI. But the feeling persisted. It creeps along at the edges. It erodes the good moments and deepens any sadness. I cruise through days in a hollow, wayward drift. Every time the feeling interrupts a potentially good moment, I feel worse. That feeling latches onto others, picking up speed downhill. I do the best I can, but the feeling always finds a way in. I am in autopilot, all boring movement and lame excuses to stay in. There are some forced smiles, there are sleepless nights. But, all in all, it’s manageable. Sometimes it takes a break. Good moments glow a bit brighter and life resumes the richness it once carried. I’m all right, this feeling will pass in time.
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VII. I dragged my feet on the way to my friend’s going away party. I thought it would take my mind off things. The beer felt light in my chest and my thoughts floated up toward the rafters. I ambled through never-ending conversations. I smiled and nodded, catching less pop and hiss from a new beer. Lighter and lighter. She showed up out of nowhere. My feet moved in front of me. I found myself mumbling out “Hey.” We made some small talk, splitting off to talk to other people after a few minutes. I watched her put her head on someone else’s shoulder. I stumbled out, walking quickly. I sobbed softly to myself as my feet moved quickly under me to save from any further embarrassment. I tried to ignore the faces watching from their porches.
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VIII.
I woke up around noon. My parents let me sleep. Sunlight peaked through the curtains, but I kept rolling over. I let sleep wash over me, letting a tingling feeling wash over my scalp, down my spine
and finally settling in my toes. I let the sounds of the neighborhood roll into a droning, familiar mass. The sounds became a song that I hadn’t heard in a while on the radio. I lurched awake around 2 p.m. My parents were in the midst of their Saturday routine. The house was quiet. I saw a text from last night that said “Hey.” I deleted the message, pretending I never saw it. I put on a record and started the day.
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About
Nicholas Arthur is 26 years old and currently lives in Michigan. He is a Wayne State University graduate. Along with poetry he dabbles in music, writing and art. When he is not writing he can be found looking in the bargain bin at the record store, drinking coffee far too late at night, and eating breakfast any time he pleases. He has a cat named Simba. 22