The Second Day After

I sit on the edge of the bed, my eyes unfocused. I realize I am staring at nothing and shake my head to snap out of it. I head to the bathroom; turn the shower on.

I remember driving off to Neverland. Tinkerbell is awaiting my arrival. Text messages are flying back and forth.

"Where are you?" Tink asks.

"Are you high or just pissed off? Depressed?" From Pandora.

"Chances are I'll have been all three by the end of the night."

"Be safe no pills..."

The mermaids are on the prowl but I ignore them. Tinkerbell and I sit within the din talking and drinking. She is no longer my companion on flights of fancy, goading me to recklessness. Her words are more like Wendy's, reproachful, motherly. I want to rail against her wisdoms but my own past condemns me and I don't feel like Peter anymore.

I watch when she takes flight. She flutters beneath the lights. She is beautiful. She is beyond reach. When she settles back beside me, she talks about the island. I watch her face closely, reading her words as much as hearing them. When she flutters off again I get up. My legs are unsteady beneath me. I go relieve myself and quickly return to the security of my seat. While sitting I do not feel the effects of the drinks but I do feel an overwhelming sadness I can't control.

The hot water spills over me, soothing my many aches. I find myself sitting in the corner of the shower stall, the water tapping on my skull. Time washes down the drain and my eyes stare at nothing--again.

Mermaids swim the darkness, most keep their distance fearing Tinkerbell's temper. I brush off the advances of those desperate enough to make a half-hearted attempt at engaging my attention. More text messages are swapped. My meanings garbled.

I've pulled myself together by the time Tinkerbell returns. Her watchful eye appraising me yet not seeing through the fog of her own indulgence. I am tired. The night has done nothing to lift my spirits. My head is clear enough to drive but not to think. We say are goodbyes.

I call Pandora from the car but still can not articulate my thoughts. I can feel my words building barriers between us instead of removing them. I give up by the time I get home. Too foggy to think, I resign myself to saying goodnight.

Water droplets still nestle on the small of my back. I need to get moving. The phone is ringing off the hook. The fires of discontent are burning brightly with two different customers--my company's self made funeral pyre. A friend is distraught-- her life is in turmoil. I look at the deep red sheets of my bed longingly before bundling my computer, keys, wallet and phone into me hands.

I call Pandora. Her voice is heavy with sleep. She sounds adorable. It makes me smile. I imagine briefly lying next to her, feel the touch of her warmth body against mine, hearing her as she breathes words against my chest, smelling the sent of her hair. I tell her to go back to sleep. Ask her to call me later. I tell her I'm having one of "those days".

When she calls, I take a break from fighting fires. I have them down to a slow roasting inferno. She is cranky from a lack of sleep and a lack of food. I still think she sounds adorable but she is in no mood to hear it. She scolds me. Reminds me what I already know. I can't argue. I know what to expect from the second day after but where does it leave me.