Damaged

He was amazed by how the slightest scent or wisp of wind could send his mind years, or decades even, back into the past, when everything was better — whether it really was better or not. The wind had carried the forest scent mixed with the humid, lukewarm air and, with it, a stream of untouchable memories. But they weren’t memories, but really just a feeling. He tried to place just exactly what the scent reminded him of, but couldn’t. It was really just a feeling. That scent had only existed then, and now, it was just a reminder of the way things were. He took a deep breath. He could feel her watching him, but he tried to ignore it.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked as she wrapped her knees close to her chest.

He didn’t answer, but simply stared intently at the forest. She always knew when he felt the feeling, and always asked, but he never told. How could he? It was his. He gave a lot, but she could not have it.

“Hey?” she said softly, brushing her forefinger around his ear. Back then, he would have melted, he would have swooned into love and let it sweep him away. But he said nothing and stared intently at the forest.

Is it a memory, or just a feeling? He could feel it sitting in his chest, menacing yet warm.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, with true concern. He could tell, but he felt nothing — only the dormant, wisp of a feeling clinging to his chest. It curled up there for quite a while.

“Have you ever felt this feeling” he began, pointing to his chest with a clawed hand. But he stopped and returned his gaze to the forest. “What I mean is” he began again, only to lose himself.

“Are you okay?” she asked, scooting closer and clearly alarmed.

“Yeah.” They sat in silence. He remained painfully aware of her sidelong glances. Finally, she gave in.

“I know something’s wrong” she blurted.
His chest throbbed. It wasn’t right not to tell her.

“I’m not…” he hesitated, searching for the right word. “Right,” he finished. The hill and the forest seemed to reverberate with the silence. “I’m not right” he repeated, surprised to hear the words.

“What?” she asked, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I’m…” he hesitated again, searching for a better word. “I’m damaged.”

“Damaged? I still don’t understand” she said. She grabbed his hands and looked up into his eyes.

“What I mean is…I’m not the same, you know? And I can’t do a thing to change it. I’ve tried and I’m just not the same. Nothin’s changed, but things just aren’t the way they were.” Things, he thought. She wouldn’t understand what he meant. “And it’s nothing you’ve done” he added quickly.

“Honey, I don’t think you’re feeling well” she said, getting to her feet. But beneath her concern, he could see fear, confusion, and disbelief. Beneath her concern, she had known the entire time. “We should go” she quavered, looking around as if they were in sudden danger.

“No, no, no” he demanded, rising to his feet and pointing to the ground. “What I mean is…” He struggled to find the words and began to rub his forehead. He paced back and forth, his hands moving nervously at his side. “I…I can’t” he stammered. And finally — “I can’t feel a goddamn thing!” He boomed. Two birds shot into the sky as he threw his frustrated hands into the air. “Not a goddamn thing!”

She stood frozen. He stood breathing at the ground, his hands nervously moving at his sides. He began to pace, his mind searching for a better explanation, but what he came up with just wasn’t right.

“Things just aren’t the same, and I don’t know why” he said.

His voice sunk, slowly floating downwards to touch the tips of the grass. They stood, nothing but a patch of dry dirt and grass between them, and then she left. He sat and stared at the forest. Is it a memory, or just a feeling? He wondered.