Someone Else's Lady

I was alive, but not living. The accident definitely caused me to be more than just forgetful. Notes were plastered around the boat to remind me of the simplest things that most old people wouldn’t even forget. It was a sad and frustrating way to live. I was never sure of what I had done or said just minutes ago. I wasn’t sure if I liked Angela’s mother or not. She was a quiet woman, but she struck me as being very aware and observant of her surroundings. I didn’t know what to make of Angela herself. I appreciated her making yet another attempt to save me and all she had done for me. Since my pre-accident memory was intact, I couldn’t help but mentally compare her and Michelle. It seemed that the only thing Angela had on Michelle was a few inches and a better body, not that Michelle had had a bad one. Had I been single, I would probably have been willing to get together with Angela for sex, but not interested in her as a partner. She was a little too on the serious side for my tastes. I felt that deep down, she may have been less sensitive, less patient, and less romantic than Michelle had been. In fact, I could picture her being abusive, and not just verbally or emotionally. Angela may have been attractive, but where Michelle looked intimidating enough to be a cop, it just wasn’t in the same way that Angela appeared intimidating. You could still see the kindness behind Michelle’s warm chocolate-brown eyes, yet there was always something mean and cold behind Angela’s. The only thing I was sure of was the deep pit of depression into which I had fallen. I would have collapsed in a heap of tears when I was brought to visit Michelle’s grave had Angela not been holding me up. I just wanted to die right then and there on the spot and sink down into the dirt to rest with her forever. Life was so cruel and unfair. It only took a split second for things to change so drastically that before we knew it, we were living a whole new life in a whole new way. We went home that day, me sobbing uncontrollably, Angela offering not a single word of compassion or empathy. With monthly disability checks barely large enough to support myself, even if I could live on my own, I took solace in reminding myself that my depression and Angela’s less-than-perfect personality were only temporary. Soon I would be gone from this world forever. I would overhear bits and pieces of Angela talking with her mother. I knew just enough German to understand the gist of the conversation. At least I couldn’t wander away from the boat so easily and get lost as I could from a house on land, since I couldn’t walk well, Angela and her mother agreed. Gee, thanks, I thought bitterly to myself. It’s great to be disabled enough to know you’ll never be lost.