She's dead. My sister called and left a message saying she had something important to say. I wouldn't really have wanted her to just leave a message about it. I called my family. It rang busy. I left a crying, slobbering message. No one called back. A couple of days later, I saw an announcement sent by email by my dad. "Announcement"--worded formally and meant for friends and acquaintances. I don't check my email very often anymore because of all the spam. I spoke to my sister again later that night and she gave me a little more detail. She suggested I call my mom again, since sometimes their phone rings busy when it's not and it's not very reliable about messages. I called my mom again and was able to speak to her. She had tried calling my cellphone. I wasn't angry about it then, but now, thinking back, I feel furious. It was her mother, so I didn't expect her to be making phone calls, etc. But it's not as if she's the only person in the family. Yes, I realize it's selfish and I do feel low and petty and bad about it. But goddammit. I haven't had that cell phone for two years. How many times have I given them my number, how many guilt-trips over 'please give us a way to contact you,' how many times have I explained that my home number is the only number I have anymore? And for what? Whenever something important happens, everyone gets confused or forgets or fuck if I know what and no one calls. My sister is the only one with enough presence of mind to actually write down my number. My dad couldn't even bother to send me a quick separate note by email.

Escarcha.

I'm terrible about keeping in touch. Sabotaging my own relationships plays no small part in this, but even when I'm not in a particularly self-destructive mood, I'm simply, well, just bad at it.

Once in a while, my parents send me a greeting card by email. I'm always touched. A lot of times I don't know what to reply with. If I'm in one of my more isolation-prone moods, I procrastinate the reply until it's forgotten.

My dad starts calling me. I don't want to talk to him. My dad is a good man. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to talk to anyone. I let the machine get it--half the time he calls when I'm not there anyway, and I don't check my messages because I don't want to talk to people.

His messages go from "Just calling to see how you're doing," to "please email me, I would like to know how things are going." He sounds profoundly sad. I feel bad. Part of the problem--besides my messed up thinking--is that my dad and I have fundamentally different ideas about communication. I don't see the need for a lot of ooohs and ahs in conversation, or in email, replying just to say "ok" or "=)" or whatever.

He keeps calling. I don't know what to say to him. I don't want to talk to him, anyway. I don't even have long distance to call him back. I don't understand what he wants from me--I mean, I "know" he wants to just talk, but I don't really understand, not at a gut level, what he wants, why he wants to talk to me. The more he calls, the less I want to email back, not to mention speak to him.

I finally send him a short email saying that I'm ok, I'm working at soandso, and that I don't really know what else to say because I don't really want to speak to anyone. He replies with a long email talking about how my grandmother is increasingly old and frail and we should be ready for her to die at any moment. Over and over. And what's my phone number where he can reach me so he can call me when it happens.

I want to punch the screen. I know my grandmother is 91 and her health isn't good anymore. Why is he doing this to me? Why does he think it's of any use, of any help, to go on and on about this? What's he expecting me to do about it? What does he think beating it into my head will do? Does he think I don't care? And what the hell does mean by couldIpleasegivehimaphonenumbertocall? He's been calling my home number, which is the only one I have. Where does he think he's been calling? Is that even supposed to mean something, or is it his way of making small talk?

I let his message sit, unanswered, in my inbox.

My sister calls one morning for help with some school stuff. I'm just getting home after having worked an 11-hour, all-night shift. I help her as best I can, tell her about my schedule, then go to bed.
A few hours later, I'm woken up by the phone ringing downstairs. I don't keep a phone in the bedroom. The machine picks up, and I hear my sister telling me to wake up. She is loud, always so loud, and just keeps saying "wake up, wake uuuup!" in a half-cheeful voice. Her annoyance is palpable. I curse under my breath. She used to do this when we were living at home, too--I'd be trying to take a nap on the couch, and she thought it was hilarious to come up behind me and scream "WAKE UP!" What the fuck is wrong with people, why will no one just leave a fucking message on the fucking answering machine, why must they go on and on asking that someone pick up? Don't you think if I was there, or if I wanted to talk to you, I would have picked up by now? I clutch my giant stuffed animal and stare daggers at the ceiling.

She finally exhausts her "wake up" repertoire, and starts leaving a message. My grandmother is very ill. They've taken her to the hospital in an ambulance. I feel the blood drain out of me. I am briefly angry that it takes her so long to get to this part of the message, that it would be just like her to just call and whine at me to wake up from the few hours' sleep I can get before going back to work for another 10-hour shift, just to ask some stupid question--like what time zone my parents are at. Not that the question itself is stupid, but it's not important enough to demand rushing to the phone from bed and answering it RIGHT NOW. In that flash of anger, I hate her because she does stuff like this and I couldn't tell from the start of the message--"wake up, I need to talk to youuuuuu," etc.--that it was actually something important.

One of the reasons I really wanted to kill myself before turning 21 was that I couldn't bear the thought of my grandmother dying. I wanted to be dead before she was.

I. Feel. Nothing.

I listen to the rest of her message from bed. Even though I'm awake, I just stay in bed and try to go back to sleep. I feel nothing. I can't fall back asleep though, so I get up, go downstairs, and play on the computer. When Jed gets home, I don't even tell him right away. I am a sociopath. I am selfish. I don't even feel numb. I just don't feel.

I am buckling, and I try to hold on to that, to not feeling anything. Once in a while though, I crack, I start sobbing, but then bounce back to the bliss of feeling nothing. I can't look at Jed in the eye.

Later, from work, I call my dad to see what's going on. I hate myself for not calling sooner. I can't give him any comfort. I give him my work number, like throwing half-rotten table scraps at a dog. It has to be a brief conversation because otherwise I will start sobbing in the office, and my coworker is still there.

I talk to Ben about things going on in his life through IM at work. I can't give him anything either.

I can't give anyone what they want from me, or what they might need from me. I am empty. I feel nothing. I am selfish and most of all, weak.