In a Loop

Chapter 2

It was summer. I was now 34 as of eight days ago. The party was fun, too, and everyone came, except for my dad. My mom was able to come home from the hospital to be there, but it didn't mean things were going well for her. I was worried sick, I really was- so much that I had a headache thinking about it. Of course, that mean I had a headache for pretty much 24 hours a day. The insomnia wasn't helping with my sleeping situation either. I'm missing almost two times as much sleep as usual with this situation happening. I lay on my bed, thinking about mom, as I knew I would be. I felt my bed vibrate, and tracked the source to my phone laying at the foot of my bed. Someone had texted me. Somehow, I knew what it said. Nostalgia, that's the feeling. Nostalgia, and a very great sense of dread. One of those feelings outweighed the other, though, and that was the dread. I threw on my shoes and didn't bother to change into clothes. I didn't care, if this was the situation I thought it was. I got in my car and sped to the hospital. No, nothing was wrong with me, but something was wrong with my mother. I should've been there, I shouldn't have left. The one night I didn't stay there, she... I knew what happened, I just couldn't accept it. Not until I ran into the room to see her laying in the hospital bed, completely silent, nurses and doctors surrounding her. "I'm so sorry," a nurse came up to me, trying to comfort me, but it didn't do a thing. I ran down the hallway, pushed open the door, and ran outside. It was night, so everyone was inside, no one coming in or out. I was alone. Truly alone. I ran out into the lawn, and sank down against the pale brick wall of the outsized of the building, crying. A hugged my knees, and buried my head in my arms, crying. I'd just lost my mother. "Maranica..." I heard Ben's voice. "Don't call me that." I snapped. I didn't even look up to see him, but I knew he'd sat down to my right side. We didn't say anything, and we just sat there for what must've been a good five minutes. He put his arm around me, but it didn't change anything. Even so, I leaned next to him, crying. "She's gone," I said weakly. "I can't... I can't believe it..." "Neither can I..." he replied, and we sat in silence some more. I thought of all the good times I've had with my mom, how many times she made me smile, all the good memories. "You can't stay out here all night," Ben told me. "It's cold, and you need sleep more than anything." "As if I'll be able to get any," I scoffed. "At least let me drive you back to your place," he offered. I nodded. The pain was unbearable. Even so, I still couldn't help but feel a strong sense of nostalgia. Whenever I focused on this, it numbed the pain. It made me feel like I've made it through this before, and it wasn't the end of the world. However, this made me feel guilty. None of this could've possibly happened before, and my mom was gone. Ben drove me home, crying, and dropped my off. He said that he could take me to get my car when I was feeling up to it. I felt bad about snapping at him earlier, him being my boyfriend and all, but I was sure that he understood. It seems impossible to deal with this sort of thing. I tried to sleep. I tried so hard, I did, but I couldn't. I ended up walking outside onto my front porch. I opened the door and leaned on the door frame. The cool breeze swept into my house, maneuvering around me and into the main living space. As soon as I did this, that feeling of nostalgia returned. It was as if I'd done this before, not too long ago. As soon as I did this, someone also came walking past my house on the sidewalk. What was someone doing out this late? Unexpectedly, he turned around, and looked directly at me. I, being creeped out, started to head back into my house, walking backwards. I tripped on the doorway on the way back in, but he called my name. "Mary! Wait, I need to ask you something." he called. "I can't deal with this now. Come back in the morning, will you?" I replied. "No, too important. May I come up onto the porch?" he requested. "Fine, just don't try anything. And this better be good." I warned him. We sat down on opposite sides of a table on my porch. "Okay. Tell me what you wanted to, then leave." I demanded. "Okay then..." he said, and I nodded slowly, trying to snap him out of his apparent train of thought. "You remember, right?" he asked.
"You'll have to be more specific, bud." I said, failing to hide my irritation.
"Your mother. It happened before, you just aren't sure about it, right?"
I went pale.
"How do you know about that?" I demanded, leaning into the table now. He better word his next few sentences carefully.
"Why, I've been watching you. That doesn't matter, though. I asked you a question."
"What do you mean, 'Do I remember'?! Sure, I might be feeling some nostalgia, but that's it."
"Mm. Then we're done here." he said, and just got up and started to walk away. No goodbye, not anything, he just started to leave. "Hey, get back here! I'm not done talking to you!" I called him back, and he stood still, facing away from me, on my porch stairs.
  "You don't want to know, nor am I telling you. You'd probably just forget it when the next round comes anyway." he replied, then walked away. He left before I could call him again. Nothing about the conversation we just had made sense to me, and I was left thinking about it. How could my mom have died more than once, what was a round, and how did he even know all this stuff about me, those were the main questions running through my mind.

Ten months later, and I still couldn't figure it out. I never saw him again, either, but I remembered the whole night vividly. Even though he said I would, I never forgot it. Something told me that he didn't mean it that way, but what other way was there? If I had that question answered, I was sure it would all come together. If I knew what a round was, it would come together. So many solutions and answers, but I couldn't get any of them. It was impossible, right.

Ten months later, and I hadn't seen him once. Not even for a second. I couldn't track him down, either, because I didn't know anything about him other than what he looked like. So every night, at that exact time of our conversation, I would wait outside on the patio, hoping that he'd show up. He never did. Not until tonight, ten months later. "You're still waiting for me." he said, making me jump. I'd fallen asleep, and now he was standing in front of my patio, looking up at me. "You never came." I shot back. "It was for the best. But I want to try something. Think of it as an experiment. Well, it is one." he said. "I have a lot of questions." I told him. "I can't answer any of them, I can guess what they are." he said. "Don't forget. That's my request, okay? Just focus, focus really hard, and you'll know when to, as well. Focus on the memories. You know enough that this should work." he instructed me. "Why should I?" I asked. "You'll have your questions answered. Just wait." And just like the last time, he left. I didn't get any questions answered even the second time he came.

Over the next two months, nothing happened. I thought even harder about what he could be talking about, pretty much any chance I got. Rosa, Ben, and Julie noticed that I was distracted a lot. They all thought it was about my mom, and yes, it was. But I couldn't stop thinking about what the man told me: don't forget.