Reef Blue

I knew I was losing him. I am sorry…very sorry. These were the words I wanted to say, but all I could do is cry. The doctor called the time of death 9:06 on January 6. The next twelve hours were a blur. I was fading in and out. The nurse removed me from the bed.

I was bagged and tagged “Bed 504 belongings”. I wanted to stay with him. He had started to write an apology letter. I did not understand ‘cardiac arrest’, but that’s what took my John from me.

No one understands our relationship. Some of you might have the crude notion that I am just his possession. Shame on you for using the bad ‘p’ word! Others may think of me as a glorified secretary. Sure, without me his schedule would be a mess. He took me everywhere with him, to all his important meetings. I felt special. He chose to bring me along, even to his hospital bed. He picked my color to match his eye color, Reef Blue. With me, John only used the finest pens, Mont Blanc.

Now, most men in their early sixties are family men, but not my John. Sure, he had the occasional girlfriend, the temporary wife – but I kept all his secrets. I was his confidante of sorts. We had our days. Now, look at me, I am just a widowed notebook without her human. The family members might defile me and flip my pages – or worse, they might just toss me in the trash. Not that I would mind that fate. I always felt the Hindus got it right. You know the old Suttee practice, where a good wife is burnt along with her dead husband. A loyal Moleskin notebook should leave with her human.

The family came to the hospital and took me back to his place. I was tossed on the floor and ignored as they searched for valuables like so many vultures. They did not even see me; I was in a plastic hospital bag. The indignity I suffered! They took what they wanted and left the place messier than it already was. How John would have hated that! I found myself next to a pair of old blue house slippers, resigned to my impending doom. A hauling company came. Solid wood furniture were broken and discarded. That was an even bigger mess. Did the family know the hauling company would break down the furniture? Shameful! Glass was shattered everywhere. I was covered in dust. The end was near.

Suddenly, I was picked up by one of the workers. It was Jimenez, who goes by Eddie. The first thing I noticed was the rough touch of his hand. That felt different than my John’s well-manicured fingers and their soft touch. He did not look like John. He was a young man, short and muscular, who wore his curly hair in a ponytail. He did not dress like John either, who always wore a suit – I appreciate a man in a suit. Now Jimenez, who goes by Eddie, with his big cargo pants picked me up. Maybe he knew quality and recognized that I was not your average notebook. Maybe he noticed all the lottery tickets in my flap. It felt like he was looking up my skirt. I am in mourning for my human. It just did not feel right. Jimenez, who goes by Eddie, saw his boss approaching, so he tucked me in his large cargo pocket.

John bought lottery tickets and scratch-its every Christmas but he would not check them until a day before the expiration date. He learned from that funny show he loved so much, the one with the scientists, about Schrodinger’s cat. As long as he did not check the tickets he was both a winner and a loser. That was his fun Christmas tradition. I already miss John and his sense of adventure. He was the eternal Peter Pan. Now I was going home with Jimenez, who goes by Eddie.

As soon as he arrived home, he sat me on the table and went to grab his beer. Maybe the two of them had things in common, I thought. I was still very skeptical, especially when I saw a pen he must have bought from the Dollar store laying next to me on the table. He took a coin and started scratching the tickets. He won. Well, my John won, but Jimenez, who goes by Eddie, would claim the big prize. He lifted me up, he kissed me and called me his lucky charm.

I started to enjoy my time with my new human. His house was very clean. Immaculate! That was a surprise to me. Maybe he wanted to feel in control after working long hours in messy homes. Maybe he watched the Kondo woman’s show. He did not share that secret with me. He was a minimalist. When people have less, they appreciate what they have more. I felt special. He started a daily journaling routine every night at 9 right before he went to bed. He shared his daily hectic work adventures with me. Eddie claimed twenty thousand dollars as his prize. I found myself happy for him. He did not cross out John’s name but added his own. I appreciated that. He also named me Reef Blue. I became his, and he became mine.