Four
four
SOMEBODY THAT I USED TO KNOW - GOTYE FEAT. KIMbrA
OWEN - MARCH 21, 2013
I lie awake, pushing thoughts of the past aside. They haunt me like ghosts, leaving me to wonder if I’ll ever break free from this endless cycle.
I remind myself I’ve come a long way since then. Yet, here I am, staring at the ceiling of my bedroom in my mostly empty apartment questioning everything that got me to this point. Why does it feel like I am as lost as ever? I sit up, rubbing my face, trying to shake off both the fragmented pieces of the dream and the memory of one of the hardest days of my life–the day I left Sabrina.
My body is drenched in sweat, and my heart’s still pounding, the image of Dream Girl’s eyes lingering in my mind. I glance at the clock on the nightstand: 6:15AM. It’s too early to be up on a Saturday, but I am certain that I won’t be able to fall back asleep. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, stretching. The apartment is quiet, with only the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen .
I walk to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face, hoping it will somehow wash away the heaviness clinging to me. When I look up at the reflection in the mirror, he’s just as haunted as I feel—dark circles under my eyes, a weariness that no amount of sleep can fix.
With a sigh, I move to the kitchen to start the coffee maker. The familiar aroma of freshly ground beans fills the air, offering a small flicker of comfort, even if it’s only a temporary distraction from the storm raging inside me.
As I wait my thoughts drift back to Barrett. He’s the one constant in my life, the reason I push forward. His laughter, his innocence–it’s all been worth it, for him. I think about how he looked at me yesterday, his eyes wide with excitement as he showed me the drawing he made at preschool. His joy is a beacon of light in my otherwise dark and complicated world.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to center myself. The past haunts me, but I know I have to keep moving forward, for Barrett’s sake and mine. The dreams, the guilt, the longing–they are all part of my journey, but they don’t define me.
I pour myself a flavored cup of black coffee and take a sip, feeling the warmth spread through me. This particular blend was one I’d found at a grocery store here in Mount Vernon shortly after I moved into my place. I happened to grab it one morning from a display by the checkout line after forgetting to grab my usual Folgers Breakfast Blend from the shelf, not wanting to lose my spot in the line by going back through the store.
It turned out to be the best thing I could have done for my coffee taste because it was perfect. I haven’t bought Folgers since. Thankfully, the new stuff was kept stocked in a Farmer’s Market-style display at the grocery store.
I moved to Mount Vernon after a six-month stint at my dad’s place in Cedar Bluff. Things were tense with my step-mom, Bev, who was overbearing and kept giving unsolicited advice about my divorce and custody arrangement with Sabrina. Bev even insisted I should fight for full custody of Barrett, but I disagreed since I was working so much.
Around the time my divorce was finalized, I found out my mom needed a roommate after leaving her second husband. She had just gone into remission from breast cancer and was hoping to pay off her medical bills more quickly. Since killing my step-dad wasn’t an option, I opted to be my Mom’s roommate as a way to help her out instead.
Sabrina and I worked out a one week on, one week off arrangement for Barrett, and I agreed to handle pick-ups and drop-offs. My project in Iowa City was going to take at least a year, and Mount Vernon was closer. Mom worked part-time in Iowa City, so we commuted together, and the hospital had a great daycare for Barrett. The arrangement was perfect aside from the long drives to Cedar Bluff.
Mom and I lived together for over six months, but a smaller unit became available in our building, so she moved. I’m now riding out the last few months on the lease and will decide where to go when it’s up in June. The landlord agreed to let me stay month-to-month until someone expresses interest in the apartment.
I walk to the living room, where the early morning light casts long shadows across the floor. The photos on the mantle catch my eye – pictures of Barrett at various stages of his young life, smiling and carefree. My goal is to be back in Cedar Bluff permanently around the time Barrett gets to kindergarten but I’m not sure if I will be able to because of work. I pick up one of the frames, tracing the outline of his face with my thumb. Setting the frame back down, I sip my coffee, trying to shake off the lingering unease from the dream .
Shortly after six in the morning, I grab my phone and see a text from Sabrina, probably about the weekend plans for Barrett. We’ve managed to keep things amicable for his sake, a small mercy I don’t deserve in the aftermath of our split. I open the message.
Sabrina:
Morning. Barrett wants to know if you can take him to the park later. We’re free after 10 if that works for you.
A small smile tugs at my lips. Apparently, I wasn’t the only early bird this morning. He’d probably been awake since before I was. I type back a quick response.
Me:
Of course. I’ll pick him up at 10:30. Tell him I’m looking forward to it.
Sabrina:
Will do. Thanks, Owen.
Feeling a bit more grounded, I finish my coffee then head to the shower, letting the hot water wash away the remnants of the dream. I grab my keys, wallet, and phone, and head out the door for the drive to Cedar Bluff.
The drive to Sabrina’s is familiar, the route etched into my memory after countless trips. The rolling countryside of Iowa passes by, the fields of corn and soybeans stretching out to the horizon. The drive helps me think and mentally prepare for the day. I pull into Sabrina’s just before ten-thirty and park the car.
I reach to knock on the door just as it swings open, and I am greeted with my son’s wide grin, his excitement palpable.
“Daddy!” he exclaims, throwing himself into my arms. I scoop him up and hug him tightly, feeling the weight of the world lift slightly with his embrace .
“Hey, buddy,” I say, setting him down. “Ready for the park?”
He nods enthusiastically, and we head out. Sabrina waves from the doorway, a small smile on her face. We’ve made a lot of progress since our divorce, but we still have a long way to go in terms of a healthy co-parenting relationship. Her call to pick him up on a non-designated day feels like progress.
We spend the next few hours at the park, Barrett running around and playing while I keep a watchful eye. His laughter fills the air, a soothing balm for my restless mind. At lunchtime, we head to a local ice cream shop and share some lemon ice cream. His face lights up with every bite, and I can’t help but smile at his joy.
Afterward, we stop by my dad’s house. Dad opens the door, his eyes lighting up when he sees us.
“Papa Henry!” Barrett shouts, running to him.
My dad crouches down and scoops Barrett into a hug, lifting him off the ground. “Hey there, champ! I’ve missed you,” he says, ruffling Barrett’s hair.
Barrett giggles, wrapping his arms around Dad’s neck. “I missed you too, Grandpa. Look, I brought my new toy car!”
Dad chuckles and sets Barrett down gently. “Well, let’s go see how fast that car can go, shall we?”
We step inside, and I’m immediately struck by how different the house looks. It’s the same house I grew up in, but Beverly’s touch is everywhere–new furniture, fresh paint, and different photos on the walls. Among the photos on the wall are a picture of me and my stepbrother Luke at Dad and Beverly’s wedding. We were more than a little drunk and had the orange slices from our beers covering our teeth to make huge smiles–it’s one of my favorite pictures.
“Come on in, make yourselves at home,” Henry says, leading us into the living room. Beverly is in the kitchen, and she comes out to greet us, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
“Hello, Owen. Hi there, Barrett!” she says warmly, bending down to give Barrett a hug. “I just baked some cookies. Would you like one?”
Barrett nods eagerly, and she laughs, ruffling his hair. “Let’s get you a cookie, then.”
We spend the afternoon there, talking and catching up. Dad and Barrett play with some toys in the living room while I watch, feeling a sense of peace I haven’t felt in a long time. Dad gets down on the floor with Barrett despite having had a knee replacement not too long ago. They build a fort out of couch cushions and blankets. Barrett’s giggles fill the room as they crawl inside and pretend it’s a secret hideout.
I look around the living room, noticing some of the more recent changes Beverly has made. The house feels brighter, more eclectic, but it still holds echoes of my childhood.
Beverly and I sit at the dining table, sipping iced tea. “How have you been, Owen?” she asks, her eyes kind and concerned.
“I’ve been okay,” I reply. “Work’s been busy. I’m pretty close to the number of hours that I need to complete my apprenticeship so I’m looking forward to that. I’m still trying to figure out where I’ll be living long-term. But things are good with Barrett, and that’s what matters most.”
She nods, understanding. “You’re a good father, Owen. Barrett’s lucky to have you.”
As I thank her for her kind words, Dad emerges from the fort, laughing as Barrett pretends to be a superhero, saving the day. “He’s got quite an imagination,” he says, catching his breath.
“He sure does,” I reply, watching my son destroy the fort from the inside out with dramatic “POW!” and “Boom boom!” chants .
As the hours pass, I start to feel the weight of the days’ events catching up with me and know it’s time to head home. I gather our things and we say goodbye to Dad and Beverly. Dad hugs me tightly, a silent understanding passing between us.
We leave Dad’s house, and I drive back to Sabrina’s to drop Barrett off. By the time I’m on the road back to Mount Vernon, it’s close to 6 PM. The sky is starting to darken, the sun dipping low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the fields.
About fifteen minutes from home, my phone rings. It’s Mom.
“Hey, Mom,” I answer, keeping my eyes on the road and rolling up the windows in the truck so I can hear her better.
She hesitates. “Owen, can you call me back when you’re not driving?” she asks, her voice tense.
“Mom, just tell me now,” I say, feeling a knot of anxiety forming in my stomach.
She takes a deep breath. “Your Uncle Teddy just passed away, baby.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I swallow hard, trying to process the news.
“What happened?” I manage to choke out.
“He had a heart attack,” she says softly. “It was sudden.”
“Do you know if anyone has gotten ahold of Dad yet? I was just with him a little bit ago. I can try to call him,” I offer.
“You don’t have to do that, honey. Henry was already informed. Teddy’s wife called him on their way to the hospital. Your dad and Beverly made it there pretty quickly since he lives so close. But Teddy had already passed, baby. I’m so sorry.”
The grief comes in waves, overwhelming and suffocating. I grip the steering wheel tightly, trying to keep my emotions in check. “Thanks for letting me know, Mom. I’ll call Dad to check on him when I get home.”
“Be careful, honey. Are you close to home?” she asks .
“Yes, about ten minutes out. I’ll be okay.”
“I love you, O.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
I hang up and drive the rest of the way home in silence, the weight of the news settling heavy on my shoulders. The familiar streets of Mount Vernon blur past as I navigate through the small town, my mind reeling with memories of Uncle Teddy–his laugh, his advice, the way he always seemed larger than life. Now, he is gone, and the world instantly feels a little dimmer.
And I know the dreams are going to hurt even more now that he’s gone. Because it won’t just be the girl in them I miss every time I wake up. It will be Teddy too.