Who We Are
by Donnie (Tobie) Denome
“You need to eat.”
“No.”
“What did you have for breakfast?”
“Cookie.”
“One?”
“Yeah.”
She gives up on trying to force-feed me and lets me stay in bed. The day turns
into night and we lie there in the still silence of the early fall.
“Your phone’s buzzing.”
“Meds.”
“Come on, you gotta take them.”
“No.”
“This is important.”
“I don’t want to.”
“It would help.”
“Nothing helps.”
I take two ibuprofen and a glass of water for my headache.
“It’s really time for dinner.”
“I guess.”
“We could order in pizza.”
“Okay.”
“Is your head any better?”
“No.”
She and I watch TV. I do the dishes after we finish off the pizza, just to give me
something to do.
“Come on, you’ve got to get undressed.”
“Please.”
“It’s not good for you to sleep in those tight clothes.”
“I can’t, I can’t.”
“I’ll help.”
I stand up to go to the bathroom and faint.
“Do you have to vomit again?”
“No – not now.”
“Just tell me, okay?”
“Yes.”
I’m pathetic. She has to help me to and from the bathroom because my
headaches are so bad. The doctor said they were just migraines but I doubt that.
“What’s that?”
“My phone. Just lie there, I’ll take care of it.”
“Okay.”
“Hi, Mama? Yeah, it’s me. Leigh’s okay. Headachey. Thanks for the
recommendation to the doctor. Oh, what? Okay. I’ll call him. I haven’t heard anything
recently but you know. Always on a story. Okay, Mama. Call you soon. Love you. Bye.”
“Is Wendell okay?”
“I don’t know. He’s probably not dead.”
I don’t want to die but I don’t want to exist.
“What should we do today?”
“I don’t feel well at all.”
“Okay, baby. I have to make some calls later on today but we can just stay in all
day if you want that.”
“That would be nice.”
“Do you want to work on the… you know, the papers?”
“It’s all useless.”
“No, it’s not.”
She would give anything for me to be happy. I am happy, around her. I’m just a
total wreck as well.
“Should I stay or should I go now?”
“Stay here, come on!”
“Sorry. Just like that song.”
“Okay. But will you come here?”
“You okay?”
“Just need a hand getting to the kitchen. Need a glass of water.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
I met her three years ago. We were at some party and everyone else seemed to
be smashed. I don’t drink since it makes the headaches worse and her dad’s side of the
family has a history of alcoholism. We sat there, sharing a six-pack of orange cream
sodas and laughing. I never felt at home before her. No one actually seemed to care
about me and no one seemed to accept her.
“Heard from Wendell.”
“Yeah?”
“He’s on a train heading out of Munich. God knows why, but he is. He said he’d
explain it all once he got back to the states.”
“Germany?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I hope he’s safe.”
The fog clears on Saturday morning. I can see far and wide. I want to take a walk
to the ocean but she says it’s inadvisable. Whatever. I won’t drown.
“Are you sure?”
“I'm Leigh, papers or not.”
As it turns out, I can’t take a walk. It’s a wheelchair day.
“Are you up for anything?”
“What do you mean?”
She’s much smaller than me. She jumps in my lap and I use the last of my
strength to wheel around the neighborhood as she shrieks in delight.
“Park?”
“Yeah. The park. But you have to push me.
The concrete bench is cold but her fingers are warm.
“I want to marry you.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean, I want to marry you.”
It’s a tiny black velvet box.
“Oh my God!”
“Please?”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
by Donnie (Tobie) Denome
“You need to eat.”
“No.”
“What did you have for breakfast?”
“Cookie.”
“One?”
“Yeah.”
She gives up on trying to force-feed me and lets me stay in bed. The day turns
into night and we lie there in the still silence of the early fall.
“Your phone’s buzzing.”
“Meds.”
“Come on, you gotta take them.”
“No.”
“This is important.”
“I don’t want to.”
“It would help.”
“Nothing helps.”
I take two ibuprofen and a glass of water for my headache.
“It’s really time for dinner.”
“I guess.”
“We could order in pizza.”
“Okay.”
“Is your head any better?”
“No.”
She and I watch TV. I do the dishes after we finish off the pizza, just to give me
something to do.
“Come on, you’ve got to get undressed.”
“Please.”
“It’s not good for you to sleep in those tight clothes.”
“I can’t, I can’t.”
“I’ll help.”
I stand up to go to the bathroom and faint.
“Do you have to vomit again?”
“No – not now.”
“Just tell me, okay?”
“Yes.”
I’m pathetic. She has to help me to and from the bathroom because my
headaches are so bad. The doctor said they were just migraines but I doubt that.
“What’s that?”
“My phone. Just lie there, I’ll take care of it.”
“Okay.”
“Hi, Mama? Yeah, it’s me. Leigh’s okay. Headachey. Thanks for the
recommendation to the doctor. Oh, what? Okay. I’ll call him. I haven’t heard anything
recently but you know. Always on a story. Okay, Mama. Call you soon. Love you. Bye.”
“Is Wendell okay?”
“I don’t know. He’s probably not dead.”
I don’t want to die but I don’t want to exist.
“What should we do today?”
“I don’t feel well at all.”
“Okay, baby. I have to make some calls later on today but we can just stay in all
day if you want that.”
“That would be nice.”
“Do you want to work on the… you know, the papers?”
“It’s all useless.”
“No, it’s not.”
She would give anything for me to be happy. I am happy, around her. I’m just a
total wreck as well.
“Should I stay or should I go now?”
“Stay here, come on!”
“Sorry. Just like that song.”
“Okay. But will you come here?”
“You okay?”
“Just need a hand getting to the kitchen. Need a glass of water.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
I met her three years ago. We were at some party and everyone else seemed to
be smashed. I don’t drink since it makes the headaches worse and her dad’s side of the
family has a history of alcoholism. We sat there, sharing a six-pack of orange cream
sodas and laughing. I never felt at home before her. No one actually seemed to care
about me and no one seemed to accept her.
“Heard from Wendell.”
“Yeah?”
“He’s on a train heading out of Munich. God knows why, but he is. He said he’d
explain it all once he got back to the states.”
“Germany?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I hope he’s safe.”
The fog clears on Saturday morning. I can see far and wide. I want to take a walk
to the ocean but she says it’s inadvisable. Whatever. I won’t drown.
“Are you sure?”
“I'm Leigh, papers or not.”
As it turns out, I can’t take a walk. It’s a wheelchair day.
“Are you up for anything?”
“What do you mean?”
She’s much smaller than me. She jumps in my lap and I use the last of my
strength to wheel around the neighborhood as she shrieks in delight.
“Park?”
“Yeah. The park. But you have to push me.
The concrete bench is cold but her fingers are warm.
“I want to marry you.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean, I want to marry you.”
It’s a tiny black velvet box.
“Oh my God!”
“Please?”
“Yes, yes, of course.”