Clouded
Arthur Silva
It was an hour into the party, and I was in the host’s room, passing around a bowl, thinking of leaving. As I inhaled, I was reminded of why I hate parties. I exhaled. I sometimes need drugs to make me feel less anxious. I was getting up to leave when an invisible woman walks into the room. At least that’s what I called her in my dreams because I had seen her before but not in any corporeal world. I sat back down. She was not invisible as I described her but more like a chameleon from her multicolored sweater to how she blended in every conversation she was having. I left the room to get a drink as she looked to be talking to some people that she had seemed to know for a long time.
I was nervous and a bit shook up. I thought she was a figment of my imagination. She was so vivid in my dreams. As I poured myself a cranberry vodka, she approached me nervously. “Hey, Jorge, what’s up?” she asked. I was in awe that this person, first off, existed, and second off, had any interest in me. I fumbled a response, “Oh hey, who are you?” “I’m a fucking idiot,” I thought to myself. I have never been the best at talking to women, but something about her tripped me up even more. “What do you mean, who am I?” she was getting angry. “Three years, and you’re questioning who I am. What happened to you?” I was confused. She ran out of the party; I questioned my sanity. I drank my drink and told the host I was leaving. “What happened, Jorge?” they asked me. “I don’t know,” I responded, freaked out slightly that I made this woman who I never talked to run out of this party. Still, I freaked out that this person who was only real in my dreams was also real and apparently mad at me. “Why’d Chloe freak out on you like that? I thought you guys called it off mutually.” My friend Ben tried to make sure I was okay. I could tell that I was supposed to know this, Chloe, but I could not remember her. She was stuck in my subconscious, so all I could say to Ben is “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The party resumed as I walked out with Ben, my brown jacket in hand. The night had gotten hotter with the alcohol in my system. Streetlights were pretty much the only illumination that was visible. It was a summer night, and you could hear other parties going on. Ben had a realization I saw in his eyes when we got to a light. “You didn’t! Let me see your wallet!” He yelled at me as I took it out and handed it to him. “You did, bro, what the fuck? I wouldn’t have let you come here if you told me.” He gives me a card that reads “Dr. Simi Experimental Solutions.” “He’s the wack job that says he can wipe away any memory you want. And obviously, it worked as you can’t seem to remember that you and Chloe were together.” I was about to have a panic attack. “So I must have some remnants of her memory in my subconscious because I still remember her image, and every time I do, I feel good.” I wanted to know what happened, but Ben didn’t know either. “Let me talk to her,” I told Ben. He gave me his phone, holding it as he was about to pass it over. “Are you sure? I mean, you must have had a reason you wanted to get your brain scrambled and forget her.” I grabbed the phone out of his hand. “I’m sure there’s a feeling. I can’t leave her hurt,” and I called Chloe.
“Hello, Ben, what the hell is wrong with Jorge.” She sounded angry but sad, like she was crying. “It’s Jorge. I got my memory wiped,” I said. “So that’s what I mean to you? You hate me so much you wanted to erase me from your existence.” I didn’t know what to say. “You always do this every time something gets difficult, you go to extreme measures. I’m tired of it, Jorge. I might not have been so happy we broke up, but at least you were important enough for me to keep you in my mind. Have a good life. You don’t deserve it!” She hung up. She was correct; I deleted every picture of her. I had no connections to her. She no longer existed in my life. I felt defeated. The girl of my dreams had gone from my mind. A faint memory of her image my only reminder. In my mind, it was better to lose the love and the memories than to deal with the pain. She was also right that every time something didn’t go my way, I went to extremes. “This extreme would be my last,” I thought. Chloe would be my reminder of this.
Arthur Silva is an ITI major graduating this year with a minor in philosophy. He is from Somerset, New Jersey, and hopes to have a future in screenwriting. His favorite movies include The Shining, Hot Fuzz, and Roma.