An 800th Day Anniversary

July 24th, 2043

My head is aching from clenching my jaw so tightly at night, waiting for an answer to this seemingly endless hell. As I look out the dusty window onto the empty boulevard, I recall how busy it used to get when students would walk to their 8 am classes, when suited businessmen headed toward their next bountiful paychecks, and when cab drivers seemed to always know where they were going, even when they didn’t.

The bombs are especially loud today. I think of my parents Lisa and Ryan every time I hear one go off. I wonder if they’re okay- if they’re alive.

I hear my best friend Stella with her husband Frank in the next room, laughing as if he had just cracked an award-winning line.

My room is dimly lit, because I, yet again, left my curtains shut for optimal privacy. I’m considering moving my desk around to possibly liven up the place… for the seventh time this year.

I’ve developed a calming morning ritual ever since the N war hit home. I wake up every morning and count my blessings. I tell myself how lucky I am for my health, my shelter, and my food. I complete 40 pushups, 30 leg raises, and a few sit-ups to stay in shape. I call Lisa every morning at 7:30 am, hoping she'll pick up… but she never does. I mix up my meals to not constantly be chomping on the same thing, or be reenacting my own version of Groundhog Day, grandpa’s favorite film. I even started ordering organic powder meal boxes online, thinking that might renew the fire in my once twenty-two-year-old heart.

Despite these efforts of imitating a life I once had (or thought I had), nothing has quite been the same, and I frankly don’t think it will ever come back to the way it was. I’ve embodied this hibernated state for so long I can’t even remember the sound of familiar voices, of street-corner conversations, of neighborly gossip.

None of us can.

As I finally whisk up the energy to create my blueberry-bound breakfast, I notice Stella changing her 2-year-old son Theo’s homemade diaper in the living room. She wraps him snuggly, then blows him a few kisses before gently rubbing Frank’s arm. They always look so happy. After turning her impossibly coiffed head in my direction, she takes Theo’s small hand and waves it at me. Heavily smitten, I seek to hide my envy with an exaggerated smile and goofy gestures.

Today marks the 800th day of the N war… and of your departure. I don’t know how to go about that apart from humming falsely optimistic melodies or writing another underground jazz song as I’ve so diligently done my entire life.

Upon heading back to my room, I notice my grandfather’s picture, and, on it, a 3-year-old wearing a cherry red jacket, assertively holding his hand. That little girl knew exactly where she was going. Much like the cab drivers who no longer know where to set sail, I can’t seem to know where to march my two left feet anymore.

I sense the cold pinch of my heart-shaped locket, softly lying between my two breasts. Every time I hold it, I think of you. I think of the last words you said to me before you left, still finding it impossible to wrap my head around it all. Now that you’re gone, I keep picturing your body on hers, infusing her with a love we both know is rightfully mine.

Just talking about it is making me sweat. I hate myself for still wanting you after what you put me through.

As I glide my finger around the rim of my blueberry shake glass, I tell myself it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. I’m safe. I’m sound. I’m surrounded. I practice my daily positive affirmations and, I, once again, seek to forget you.

Another bomb goes off in an adjacent street, and Theo’s cries echo across the two-bedroom apartment.

My fist is now clenching the heart-shaped locket so hard a small screw falls out. Along with it, the heart slides out of the locket chain and collapses onto the wooden floor.

After watching it fall, I lean down to pick it up. Bending my knees, I feel a sudden urge to lay down and sob. Just a little bit. And, you guessed it, this is generally the type of moment that inspires a new song.

I write when my heart drops when my legs shake when I try to forget a man long gone into another woman’s wake.

I write when I think of you,

Am7

And the things you do

Cadd9 Am6

Oh, baby! Lead me into your everlasting blue!

Em7b5 Cmaj7#5

I’ll take you in and throw you off cue

D9 E9

I’ll never forget the love we once knew

Am7

Shake it up and tear me down

Cadd9 Am6

Tomorrow will be set

Em7b5 Cmaj#5

And I’ll be yours to lose

D9 E9

To send off into the lost and found

Am7

Of unforgettable hues

Cadd9

Ba ba dwe day! La da ba twi di di di li.

Sometimes, I wonder if I cross your mind.

But then, I always remember my routine.

That way, I’m in control.

That way, I’m not just another heartbroken soul.

That way, when you hear my melody from afar,

You’ll think of me.