Death before life

I know when you’re going to die. Unless you’ve lost both your arms in a shark attack or just for funsies, it's right there written on your wrist for me. When you live in a city that never sleeps you are going to see about hundreds of wrists DAILY. And I dread it.

“82... Okay. Not bad.”

“57... My guess is lung cancer if she doesn’t put that damn cigarette away.”

“13… Damn it.”

It’s something that I can’t get used to… especially the kids, man. Somedays they appear in my dreams. I guess it’s my way of extending their life somehow, to find some peace about it. It is fucking depressing, really. After 8 years of having this “gift”, you would think that I would toughen up or understand the meaning of life or maybe have some sort of appreciation for the cycle. I mean I obviously get it. Everyone goes through it, yet I find it awful. My mind just doesn’t work like that. I mean I just think about their loved ones missing them, the people who lost their lives early, or who left their kids too soon… like my parents. Car accident. I was 11. Where are the-

“Ayo Timboo!” Jerry said as I walked into work.

“Hey, Jerry.”

“How’s the weekend, Tim?”

“Thinking about therapy Jerry.”

Jerry laughed, “Ahh am I that bad?”

“Short answer, yes,” I smirked.

Jerry might be the only person close to me and by some miracle, I don’t know when he’s going to go. I mean that welder uniform really covers everything. I’ve gotten close though. Lunch breaks are the most dangerous, so I try not to eat at the same time as him. But when I do, I have basically mastered the art of not looking at him (in an obvious way of course). I sit on the side of him and look off into the distance as much as I can. Oh, and sunglasses, the most important part! The times you do have to look at him, you close your eyes and he doesn’t even notice. The problem with that is when it’s cold outside and we must eat lunch indoors. I’ve become THAT guy that wears sunglasses indoors.

“Who do ya think you are?” Jerry would say with the Jersey accent coming through stronger each time.

I just hope he stays here with me for a while. This might be the only place where I forget about my sorrows and get some sense of normalcy again. I mean Jerry is my therapy… but that man can’t know that. He’ll make me rub his rotting feet for his damn “services.”

After a 10-hour day, I finally lift my hood and admire the exhaust pipe I repaired. Who would’ve thought that melting 2 pieces of metal together can be so peaceful? Something that Buddhist monks should look int-

“See y’all in the morning.” I heard Jerry yell off into the distance.

“Have a good night!” I yelled back.

I start getting ready to go home and put all my gear back into my locker.

I sighed. “Here I go again.” And I start walking home.

“32… man.”

“97... wow.”

“4… I’m sorry.”

I walk past many trendy restaurants and shops on my way home. I try to avoid looking at couples sitting outside. If only you’d know she’s going to leave you soon. I have not been able to date. I can’t have myself attached to someone who lives a short life. And if I find someone who’s with me for a while, I’d have to keep this secret from them. How can I lie to someone I love like that? Same reason I haven’t had friends for 8 years. Lonely in this city, can you believe it?

I open the door to your typical cozy New York apartment. Once you’re in, you don’t have to take any more steps to your kitchen, living room, or bedroom! It's all already there. The 3 in 1 deal. It’s just like getting the luxury of sitting in the middle seat of an airplane.

I set my keys and wallet on my stove, and toss my dull, brown leather jacket onto my bed. Once I started rummaging through my pantry, I heard a knock on my door. It startled me enough that I knocked my jar of honey off the shelves. Glass shattered. Honey slowly making its way to fill all the cracks on my splintered, unpolished walnut floors.

“Ah shit,” I murmured. Deep breaths Tim. The local New Yorker bees did not deserve this.

Nonetheless, I open my door almost immediately. It doesn’t take much time or effort as everything is an arm's length away.

Huh? No one.

I have the last apartment in the hallway, unless you’re Usain Bolt on crack there is no chance someone could’ve disappeared that fast. I look down and there’s a small cardboard box left on the ground for me. “Timmy” written in black.

The color quickly drained from my face.

I grabbed the package and slammed the door shut. Everything around me was spinning but my main focus was getting inside that box. Knocking over everything around me, shoving my keys and wallet off my stove, making room for the package.

“Knife. Where the fucking knife!?” I cried as I’m blasting each drawer opened.

“Fuck the knife.” I ripped the box open.

My beady eyes peered over the shredded-up package. A leather notebook stacked on top of a white envelope.

I grab them and use my stove to slide down onto the kitchen floor. I study each grain and wrinkle of the small black notebook. Feeling the bumps and ridges of the gilded envelope seal. I wait, feeling each depth of my heartbeat running through my body.

Once I was ready, I peeled off the gold seal and opened the envelope.

“What the fuck?” I whispered, barely moving a muscle in my face.

I’ve never seen this much money before. As I’m surrounded by destruction, barely noticing the honey soaking into my socks, my thoughts are whirling through my head. This doesn’t make sense. I can’t think of one good reason why someone would deliver me this much money. Did I save someone’s cat from a burning building?

I move onto the notebook, thinking I might find answers there. I slide off the elastic and I open to the first page.

Timmy,

It’s unbearable to not have you with us. With every inch and fiber of our being we love and miss you. We know nothing makes sense right now, but we promise it will. As much as this hurts us, we are advised to keep this note as minimal as possible. We promise that there is a reason for everything.

Now, you should have received 20,000 dollars in cash. Please keep this safe, like your life depends on it. You are going to need it.

Tomorrow at 12 pm, a letter from us will appear on the next page with further instructions.

We love you and we will see you soon.

Love,

Mom & Dad

I dig into my knees as I saturate my jeans with every tear.