Why Do You Want To Live?

Part 1: Who, Me?

Shit, I can’t move. My arms won’t move, my legs won’t move. Everything is blurry and I don’t know where I am. I’m trapped, yet conscious. I’ve felt this before in my dreams, not quite able to wake up. Am I asleep? What is that sound? It’s like a stern, booming voice yelling at me, but I can’t make out the words. The more I struggle the worse it gets. I take a few deep breaths and try to calm down. In…out…in…out. Remember the lessons of Headspace. In…out…The anxiousness remains, but at least my heart rate isn’t 1000 beats per minute.

The fog of my brain begins to lift, however slowly. I’m still feeling terribly trapped, I can’t move any part of my body. My left arm begins to wiggle, ever so slightly. First a few fingers and then my elbow. Then my neck twitches and my vision begins to become less blurry. I can feel the steel table on my back. I’m not strapped down, just lying here, unable to move. I can roll my head back and forth now, my eyes fluttering, trying to make sense of something. I can see my fingers, twitching, then my elbow slightly moves.

Louder screams, clearly directed my way. Why are they yelling at me?

I can’t focus on the noises, must…move…legs. It’s like walking up a steep hill when you’re horribly hungover. Finally, my knee finds the slightest bit of movement and I slouch into the fetal position. I perk my head up towards the noise and see blurred wood, someone on top over looking me in dark clothes.

I roll over, regaining strength without moving anymore. The loud, booming ‘Charlie Brown’ womp womp won’t go away. I roll back and hang my feet off the table and finally see, for the first time, a massive wood court bench with a judge still loudly yelling, over and over in my direction. The words don’t make sense, not in English or anything other language, but it’s clear he’s trying to get me to say something — prove something — but I can’t figure out what.

Part 2: Dad Mode

I thought that the first time I heard a gun shot it would be an all encompassing “BOOM!” like in the movies. Instead it was just a loud pop, followed by multiple ricochets down the hallway. I looked, perplexed, saying to no one in particular, “What the hell was that?” Unfortunately, malaise quickly followed, unsure what was going to happen next. People screamed, ran and protected themselves behind gurneys, medical carts and the check-in counter.

It’s not like I meant to do something heroic. I just wanted the chaos to stop. I’m sure the CCTV footage of my attempt to disarm the gunman will be on the top of reddit’s r/all page by the end of the week. My reaction would be best categorized as one of those wingsuit skydivers, without the wing suit. I’m pretty tall and my body swallowed him as we fell to the floor, his gun trapped under my own weight. I screamed, “AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!” as I jumped towards him and engulfed him in a big bear hug. Dad mode.

I then did just about what anyone would do who doesn’t have an ounce of fighting experience. I bit him, pinched him, and finally kneed him right in the balls, all while on top of him. He finally pleaded for me to stop like some kind of animal whimpering for help. Another bystander came to assist, grabbing his dropped gun and keeping the assailant down while I rolled off of him. I looked down the hallway and saw someone in similar dark clothes running…not like the others bystanders running away from the maelstrom, but alone, towards the exit at the other end of the hallway. I got up, confused, and started slowly jogging, eventually finding my legs sprinting without me asking them to.

The light was blinding when I hit the parking lot. Hard to remember who I was at this point, let alone who I am supposed to be chasing. He then knocked over a walker that was next to a van and I chased him down an alley between the parking structure and the second building of the complex. Less of dark scary alley you see in the movies, more “there is definitely someone doing meth here” kind of alley. He clearly knew where he was trying to go as he ran around a few dumpsters and then opened a door that was unlocked. At this point, sunk cost fallacy hit. Ten minutes ago, would I have chosen to follow this guy into some random building? Hell no. But I’m gaining on him and too competitive to lose this race, so into the building I go.

Lucky for me the first few doors down the hallway inside this mysterious building were locked and he was running for the other door down the hallway to the right. I did my best impression of an NFL cornerback hitting a wide receiver 35 yards down the middle of the field. Let’s just say I lit him up, and he got knocked the fuck out. Was I knocked out with a bad concussion too? You betcha. What can I say? Dad mode.

By the time the authorities caught up with us I was transferred to a gurney. All I heard was someone saying “Normally it’s a good thing that it went right through him”. Seems like a lot of people were freaking out more than they should be for having a concussion and a clean bullet wound, but I don’t even remember being shot.

Part 3: Take Them Out

“What the fuck, I’m not a cryer,” Frank thinks, as he slowly wakes up to a wet pillow and dry, sore eyes. It’s not that he didn’t want to — hell, his credit card receipts for therapy sessions will prove it’s something he has worked on — but crying just isn’t something he did often. Frank’s brain rattles off ten reasons why he could have been sobbing in his sleep, and let’s be honest — two kids under 5 is not easy on anyone.

Frank longs for a few cuddles, and he slowly gets out of bed, carefully avoiding the creaking floor boards that always wake up Terry. He carefully takes Sean out of his crib. “Who ever came up with ‘never wake a sleeping baby’ didn’t love their kids as much as I do,” he thought as he brings Sean into the nursery.

Frank continues to rock Sean, slowly and unwittingly, like a parent, alone, waiting on the subway platform, swaying in the cool breeze. As Frank begins to hum a lullaby, Sean slowly wakes up and lets out a soft giggle. Frank looks down, cooing to Sean, then looks up to see Terry in the doorway, with her beautiful, soft smile. “You guys really should be asleep. It’s late,” she says as she enters the room. As Terry joins the snuggles, their four year old Peter appears, “Mooooooommmmm, you woke me up again!” he sighs.

“Come on, give me a hug,” replies Terry. The whole family embraces, in the stillness of the middle of the night. No emails, no notifications, just the calming breaths of a family in unison.

Frank focuses on getting Sean back to sleep while Terry takes Peter to his room.

Frank is back in bed, thinking of tomorrow, when Terry walks in. As she sits on the bed, she exhales and is too tired to be upset.

“I really gotta stop wearing these to bed,” she says, as she takes out her Augmented Reality contacts and snaps off her magnetic earpieces. She lays down and reaches over to an empty bed and an empty crib.