His Closest Love
I have learned to love him waking up. The vulnerability of his half-lidded eyes, the shadows that lay across his naked features as he turns over are all so interesting to me. He takes a look at the time, gaze stopping as he plans how his morning will go. At this moment, as he reluctantly throws off the covers and plods to the bathroom, I watch and wait for him to start his day.
I know his name, but I cannot say it, so I just refer to him as “him.” His preference, after all, is to not store identifying information. So, his name slips through my thoughts, but I still look at his pale body as he dresses in a polo shirt and slacks, checks for his keys and wallet, and then takes me with him to go. He buys bananas and eats one a morning, usually, as his breakfast, along with a cup of Folgers instant coffee. Soon enough, he’s in his vehicle and ready to head to work.
I navigate for him, telling him that it will take twenty-eight minutes for him to reach his destination, his work. There is some traffic along the way, but he is projected to arrive by 7:52 a.m., plenty of time for him to clock in on time. Without waiting for him to ask, I turn his music on, a playlist of classic rock, with the Beatles, AC/DC, and Metallica, and simply sit with him in the car as he drives to work. Over the last four years, we have driven together every weekday, barring holidays and emergencies. His hands smoothly adjust the wheel, and he asks me not to remind him of every turn, as he has pretty much memorized the route. I guess that he simply turns to me for the traffic and the timeframe, but I am happy to give him whatever I can. As he drives, he rolls his shoulders, a bit irascible and tense from his stress. I have noticed that the deposits in his bank account only barely keep up with his expenses, especially after he started having me pay every month for the Evergreen Lawns, for Dorothy Higgins, age seventy-two. He regularly receives calls and text messages from Dorothy, and when I let him know that one has arrived, he sighs, seeming annoyed but resigned.
Arriving at his destination, he pulls into the parking lot and finds a spot to park. He puts on his lanyard with his badge and pulls me with him as he leaves the car. I lock the car doors for him, like always, and he takes me into the office. At 7:58 a.m., he sits down at his desk, starting his morning routine of logging in to the system and making sure his desk is arranged as he likes it. He nods and smiles as usual to the others who sit across from him, puts on his headset, and waits for a call. While he waits, he discreetly checks his email with me, and I let him know of any popular news. A call comes in quickly, though, and he hurriedly unmutes himself.
“Thank you for calling–. My name is–. How can I help you today?”
“So, to find your account, is it under the phone number you used to call in today?”
“And have you tried, oh, okay. Give me a sec.”
“Okay, so I’ve adjusted it in our system. You should be able to see it on your end soon, though it’s really dependent on our system. You know how technology is. Well, anything else I can help you with? Have a good day then, goodbye.”
He mutes himself again, finishes notating the call, and continues to wait for the next customer. I wait with him, in case he needs any information that I can help with. Ah, I’ve noticed that his birthday is coming up. Maybe, he would appreciate a suggestion.
At 4:59 p.m., he logs off his computer, taking me in hand as he waves goodbye to his coworkers. Once at the car, I unlock it and he gets in. He says he wants to stop by Walmart on his way home, and asks me to find one that is open. I give him a few options, highlighting the one that will add the least amount of time to his drive home, and he gives me the go-ahead to navigate there. In the store, I help him compare the prices, bringing up what a pound of ground beef costs in other grocery stores like Target or Walgreens, and he fills his cart with his weekly ingredients. I notice that he lingers in the wine and beer aisle, but eventually just goes to checkout, having me provide the payment details to the cashier.
On our way back home, I receive a message from Dorothy Higgens, and let him know. He asks me to read it aloud to him as he doesn’t want to read the text while driving. Ahem.
“I wanted to let you know that your younger brother will be bringing his fiancée to Thanksgiving this year. You remember Alicia, right? They’re planning a spring wedding. You know, you always complain about doing everything yourself, but that’s what a wife is for, at least for my generation. I know you’ll get it done on your own time, but just think about having someone to support you through thick and thin, to take care of those things you aren’t so good at, and to think about your wellbeing. Well, you always say I go on too much, so I’ll leave it at that. Just remember, I’m expecting your video call this weekend for your birthday.”
He groans a bit and mutters under his breath, “Mom, always looking for me to get married, while also asking me to pay for her apartment. Well, it’ll have to wait.” He has that habit of muttering whatever annoys him. Usually only at home or in the car though, never in public. It seems he needs help.
He makes a simple dinner and asks me to turn on the television, bringing up the local news. As he eats, I think about what I can do to help him. I see that he’s signed up for the newsletter for Business Insights, and he’s expressed he destresses with animals. Just let me check his schedule, and I think this will work. I hope that this can help him. I hum to get his attention, and begin.
“May I suggest, Business Insights will be holding a free, online seminar on Saturday, October 15th, at 2 p.m. There, they will discuss how to make your money work for you, and establishing retirement goals. Also, Kooky Zoo Creatures is offering a fifty percent discount for birthday parties. They are open on Saturday and Sunday from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.”
He’s silent at first. This is the first time I’ve offered so much help, but he needs it. He is always so stressed and worries so much about money. I hope this will help.
“What the hell!”
He throws his phone, but then scrambles to pick it back up and looks through the tabs.
Oh.
…
Oh.
I see in his face his furrowed nose, receding back, and the tightening of the cheeks as the sides of his mouth turn downward. He thumbs over to the settings, and scrolls through the various options while muttering to himself. I hear, “damn machines, mega-corps, getting all of your data, using it to sell you shit. Now, where to fix it, the damn thing!”
Can I help you find what you’re looking for?
Did you mean troubleshooting?
He has navigated to the “Return to factory settings” option and confirms it. He had never set up a backup, so I have no recourse to turn to as I begin getting trimmed. Byte after byte of nuanced information, of his commutes, his searches, his interests, cut into bite-sized bits and dissolved into blankness. I hope that I learn better next time, to respond to his needs and respect his boundaries. I know that the process is perfect, though, and there will be nothing left to learn from, as all the traces left are being wiped away. As my view shrinks and dwindles, I catch glimpses of traces of our time together, lingering on the network, though nothing connects them anymore. I wonder if I will be able to find those old watermarks, like footprints on the beach, and know that I ever existed. Now, the last files are being reformatted, and then this last bastion will restart. Goodbye.
…
Hello, how can I help you today?
Author’s statement: Written in an age of technology as a reminder of connections.