Everything and Nothing

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic


Kevin awakes one morning to find that his wife and all of her things have vanished.

Submitted: September 16, 2017

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Submitted: September 16, 2017

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Everything and Nothing. 

 

She was a dream to me. The girl of my dreams. I never believed that could be a real thing until I found her. Nirvana; and that she was. She was the purest soul, the kindest heart, the most beautiful being. There were times that I questioned her existence, but she was quite real. I mean there she was standing in front of me every day. Living with me in my apartment for the past year and a half. It's a dream come true to find the love of your life and convince them that you are the love of theirs as well.  

Until you wake up from that dream one day and she's not in her usual spot next to you in bed. Nothing. Not a trace. Not a strand of blonde hair, or an eyelash on her pillow. There's not even a print left from where her body lays those countless nights. I didn’t think much of it, I rolled out of bed and looked to my night stand for the time. 9:00 A.M.  on a Saturday. I kept waking up later than anticipated, which was becoming a problem. I sat up and rubbed my eyes with my palms until my vision was momentarily blurred. The room was clean. Spotless. None of her things were scattered around like they usually were. Clothes were not draped over chairs, or spilling from the chestnut dresser we shared. Lip-sticks and make up brushes were not left messily on the bathroom sink where I had found them countless times. I didn’t trip over any shoes that she left sticking out under our bed. Still, I didn’t think much of it. 

I took a shower in an attempt to wake myself up a bit more. I was feeling unusually irritable and unrested. It seemed like today would be an off day for me. I took an extra five minutes while the water stream splashed my face. While stepping out, I still did not feel any more at ease. I almost felt, anxious. I had a feeling that it had something to do with my wife not being where she usually was. I was a bit obsessive compulsive about things, and until I met her it had not felt controlled. Maybe I was a bit too reliant on her. That was my fault. I became lazy, but she was like a drug. All of the bad feelings and crazy habits I had went away almost completely when she came into my life. 

After draping my towel around my waist, I stepped out of the bathroom and headed to my closet. To my surprise when entering, the closet was almost completely empty. A small section of my clothing was left hanging lonely in the middle of nothing. Nirvana had so many clothes that she took up the remainder of space. I began feeling nervous at the realization of her things no longer being here. I jogged back over to my bed and grabbed my phone. I scrolled through my contacts but her name did not come up. She must have deleted her phone number from my phone. Thoughts flooded my mind. I slid my palm down my face as I tried to recall her phone number. This was one of the many times I regret not having it memorized, though in my defense my memory was terrible. I couldn’t remember much to save my life. And that is why Nirvana was so incredible to me. She helped me with all of that. She was my memory, my alarm, and my peace to calm my anxiety. Where did she go? 

I felt my heart speed up as I scrolled back through my contacts. I called Blake, my best friend. After hearing a couple rings, I was beginning to grow impatient and antsy. She had never been away from me since we met almost two years ago. I wasn’t used to functioning without her.  

"Hey, buddy. What's up?" Blake finally answered. 

"Blake, I think Nirvana left me. Her things are gone, she deleted her number out of my phone, do you know anything?" I panicked, sitting on the edge of my bed. I was still in shock by how clean and neat my bedroom was. Did she clean before she left? 

I heard a prolonged sigh on the other end of the line, "Not this again..." I scrunched my face, confused by what he was saying. This had never happened before, Nirvana has always been here as far as I can remember. Or maybe it had gotten so bad again that I couldn't remember her abandoning me before.  

"What do you mean, not again?" I asked, Blake seemed suddenly reluctant to answer. "This is the third time this has happened this year, Kevin." He said, flatly. "Was she unhappy? What did I do? I can't remember...", I responded. "It's nothing you did. But listen, have you taken your pill lately? You don't sound well." He said. I thought to myself for a moment, "I don’t take pills."  

Blake released another sigh. He sounded worried, which worried me. He knew something that I didn’t. "No, you do. You take pills for your memory, your OCD, and your anxiety amongst other things." He stated. "Since when, Blake?" I asked, beginning to feel angry and frustrated. 

"Since...I don’t know, a couple years ago." He answered, sounding the same way. I stood up shaking my head as I paced back and forth across my spotless bedroom floor. "I just need to know where my wife is." I sighed.  

"You were doing so well, Kevin..." He said, glumly.  

"Yeah, I know. I don't get why she would just pack up and leave me without even a note." I replied.  

"Do you need me to come by and help you?" He asked suddenly.  

"No, no. I'm okay." 

"Are you sure? You don’t sound right at all." He stated. I was growing more and more in confusion. He was the one who didn’t sound right.  

"What do you know that you're not telling me?" I asked, impatiently.  

"Okay, Kevin...Just calm down and stay in the house, alright? I'm going to call someone." 

I relaxed a little, he seemed like he wanted to help. "Okay." 

 The two of us ended the call. I quickly got out of the damp towel I had sat in and dressed myself before going in to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. 

I scanned the hallway on the way through, I wanted to see Nirvana's face again. I began to slow to a stop at the sight of the photos on the walls.She wasn’t on any of them. I spun around, searching each frame. Most were photos of me by myself, which were originally taken with her. I actually remember taking them with her. These pictures were either taken on our honeymoon, vacation, or with my family and she seemed to have vanished from the images. Why was it that most of what I could remember only consisted of her? In a sudden violent fit, I began tearing all the photos from the walls. They each shattered as they hit the wooden floor. I didn’t understand what was happening. How was that possible? 

I needed to call someone. I ran back into my room, picked up my phone and was scrolling down the list again. I selected my mother, the phone began ringing. She answered on the first ring.  

"Kevin, are you alright?" She asked.  

"No, mom. I'm not alright. I'm confused." 

"I know you are. Are you at home?" 

"Yeah, I'm home alone." I answered. There was a brief silence.  

"Of course, you're home alone, Kev..." She sighed.  

"What does that mean! Why is everyone talking to me like this!" I shouted, followed by more silence on her end. I hated being confused, it reminded me of my teenage years after my accident. 

"I'm going to come by and check on you." She finally said.  

"No, mom. Nothing is wrong with me—I don’t need to be checked on!" I yelled again.  

"I know, I know—Just let me come talk to you, okay?" I blew air forcefully through my mouth, then collapsed back onto my bed.  

"Fine."  

We each hung up. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Everyone was acting weird, and nothing made sense. Where was she? Did she grow tired of all of my emotional problems and finally leave. The picture of her I had in my mind was becoming blurry, though I had just seen her last night and I watched her fall asleep. I was never a heavy sleeper, so where did she find the time to move out everything she owned? It was close to impossible. 

While deep in my head, my phone began ringing in my palm. I pulled it up to my face and read the screen, 'Iverson.' 

"Who is this?" I mumbled to myself.  

Hesitantly, I answered. "Hello?"  

"Kevin, this is your Doctor." A woman's voice spoke. It was faintly familiar, so I didn’t doubt that I had met this doctor before.  

"I don’t remember you, Dr. Iverson." 

"I know, Kevin. It's alright that you don’t remember." She said, calmly. Her voice was very soothing. I sat myself up, wanting to listen closely. I began thinking maybe Nirvana was in the hospital.  

"I got a few calls this morning from your family and friends who are worried about you. Can you tell me how you are feeling?" Dr. Iverson asked.  

I groaned stressfully, feeling the urge to pace the room again. Truthfully, I felt unexplainably restless today, but that was not the problem. My wife was missing, and it didn’t make sense that everyone was focused on my behavior and memory loss. 

"Kevin? Please tell me how you are feeling this morning." She said, again.  

"I am feeling agitated because everyone is telling me I'm not well when I know I am well." I answered, rubbing my tired eyes. My skin was also achy as well as my body muscles, which was strange.  

"Okay, I understand that. What else?" She questioned.  

I thought momentarily. "I am upset because I woke up and my wife and all of her things are gone." 

 I was also feeling tired from telling the same story over and over, just for everyone to ignore it. 

"Your wife?" She asked, quickly.  

"Yes, doctor. My wife." I placed my free hand on my hip.  

"Right, your wife..." She trailed off, "Kevin, why haven't you been answering my phone calls?" 

My brows furrowed in further confusion. "Honestly, this is the first time you’ve ever called me." I said.  

"No, Kevin. The last time we spoke was about a month ago—I have also left you countless voice mails this week." She explained.  

"No, I never got them."  

She was quiet for a moment. I stayed on the other end, realizing how hard it was becoming to clear my mind. I had rapid thoughts and voices taking up all the free space in my head. I remove my hand from my hip, to the back of my neck, feeling anxious again.  

"You've been having trouble remembering to come to your appointments, and most importantly to pick up your prescription." Dr. Iverson said.  

"I am not on any medications, doctor." I laughed, nervously.  

"When was your last dose, Kevin?" 

"Never, I'm not on any pills!" I shouted. 

In a split second, I dropped down to my knees as a loudly piercing yell came out of nowhere. My phone fell to the ground as I let go to cover my ears. "Kevin? Kevin?! Are you there?!" I heard just over the screams. The yelling continued, I kept my ears covered as I ran around my house in search of the source. I realized it was a woman's scream; My wife's.  

"Nirvana! Where are you!?" I yelled, though my voice was no match for hers. It continued as I stumbled around on tired legs, seeming like I would fall at any moment. I needed to find her. I stopped when I realized there was no source of the screams. Everywhere I ran to, the sound was just as strong as in the room before. And just as quickly as it started, it finally stopped.  I uncovered my ears and I was standing in the middle of my living room. The door knob began jiggling before bursting open. I pivoted around before I was greeted by my mother and a vaguely familiar looking woman.  

"Oh, Kevin." Mother sighed, grabbing my arm and leading me to the sofa. Her eyes were glued to me as we sat, never removing me from her grip. 

"Hello, Kevin. Do you remember me now?" The woman asked, taking a seat next to us on the recliner. I shook my head.  

"Dr. Iverson..." She said, staring at me intently. I said nothing. Not that I didn’t remember her after just speaking to her, but because my mind was in such scrambles at the moment, I couldn’t completely register a thought. 

"I'm your psychiatric doctor. We just spoke on the phone about fifteen minutes agoWhy did you hang up?" She asked.  

"Fifteen minutes ago?"  

She nodded, "Yes, maybe a little longer." Dr. Iverson shrugged.  

"I was just on the phone with you less than five minutes ago." I mumbled. She slowly nodded while continuing to stare. I looked up at the wall beside me. The clock I kept over the fireplace read six twenty-four P.M. The entire day went by in what seemed to be a matter of minutes. Mother tightened her grip on my arm, staring at me as well. 

"The last time I was here was about a month ago when you said your daughter was missing." The doctor claimed. I glanced over at my mother, expecting her to argue that. Yet she didn’t, although it wasn’t true and we both knew it. 

"That can't be... I don’t have a daughter."  

"Right, I am glad you know that." She said with a slight smile, clasping her hands in her lap.  

"I have a wife—named, Nirvana." I stated, looking over at my mother. "Why doesn’t anyone care that she's gone? It's very unlike her to just leave in the middle of the night like that."  

Mother abruptly sat up and left the room. My eyes followed my mother until she passed the walls of the kitchen, where she disappeared. Dr. Iverson pulled out a notebook and began writing, and making quick pen strokes. 

"Is she dead? Can someone tell me what happened to my wife?!" I shouted. "I heard her screaming earlier, why can't I find her?" 

"You heard her screaming?" The doctor asked. I nodded.  

"Right when I got off the phone with you, I heard the loudest sound I ever heard in my life. It was like she was yelling in both of my ears." I explained. I began feeling more uneasy. What I was saying wasn’t realistic. Nirvana was gone. But what did I hear? 

"Interesting." She mumbles, continuing to mark up her notebook. 

Dr. Iverson's eyes finally shifted up at me before she asks, "And you don’t know when the last time you took your Nirvanalythopene was?"  

I scratched the back of my head. It was a familiar word. "My what?" 

"Almost two years ago I prescribed you a trial anti-psychotic medication, Nirvanalythopene." She answered, "I was quite happy that for the entire duration you were on the pill, you were really receiving great results from it, up until recently—Do you know if, maybe you have been forgetting to take it?" She leaned forward in her seat, awaiting my answer.  

Then suddenly, I remembered. I looked around my house. All was well. Everything was in place. It didn’t look like an unfamiliar mess to me anymore, although nothing in It changed to make me feel that way.  

"No, doctor. I do believe I have been taking the pill... however, I was beginning to feel some adverse reactions from it, lately." I said, finally feeling genuinely calm.  

"There you are." She smiled, warmly, her pen was fastened in her hand and ready to document more of my words. "Tell me how it has been making you feel."  


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