Martyr - Tape 3

(Beep. Music fades in.)

Of the many things I miss about you, I think what I miss the most are those moments when I was just sitting in your general vicinity. I don’t exactly know why. But this was back when everyone was so worried that something would happen to you that we couldn’t bear to leave you alone, when alone was all you wanted to be. I don’t think either side was entirely right or wrong, just convinced and maybe devoted. So we all had our plans, carefully cultivated by our hopes and fears. And that was the easy part. Reconciling them so that they could coexist turned out to be so much harder.

I hardly ever saw you angry, but you would be absolutely furious when you realized someone was trying to monitor you. Even your nurse, which wasn’t exactly fair. I mean it was her job to watch you, then again, she could handle your outbursts. She would just roll her eyes when you agitated. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before, she would tell me. You weren’t her first patient. And sometimes, when you were resting or otherwise occupied, she would tell me about those who came before. Nothing identifiable. Nothing specific. I didn’t care about those things. She would just tell me the stories they would tell her, regifting vignettes of moments in times long before me. And I loved it.

I was fascinated by her tales. For the same reason I was so drawn to you, I guess. The candies were nice, but I loved your stories. I loved hearing about your misadventures. I loved hearing about the things you cared about. I loved being the heir to the repertoire of stories you had gathered across time. 

And that’s what I was, technically. You didn’t have children of your own. And I fit into that slot rather nicely. When you spoke, I felt like I belonged somewhere. Not a physical place, exactly. But that I had a place in the cosmos. Because clearly you did. You were sure of it. And I was tapped to be your heir.

You never got mad at me for following you. And I always hoped this was why. I mean, you did know I was keeping an eye on you, right? I was the one charged with making sure you were okay because you would not get angry with me. You couldn’t. You couldn’t muster it, and it was pretty obvious. In some ways, they were all taking advantage of us, good intentions aside.

But I didn’t care. You could never bring yourself to get mad at me. Even in the end. Even when you should have been. And that was nice. I liked being special. But also not. It came with complications.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Because maybe I deserve anger. Maybe I am owed it. I remember the stories you would tell me, like the one about Archbishop Fulton Sheen or the one he would tell when as a child he’d break the windows of the neighbor’s home because of course he did, that’s part of being a kid. Things happen. But all the same, he would always want to repay them for the damage, even though he was a kid and technically couldn’t do much more than gather what was in his piggy bank or drawers or wherever tiny Fulton Sheen kept his money. I don’t know. 

But the point, I guess, was that there is this urge in all of us to restore a balance or to balance out the ledger the best we can. As for me, I know I am owed anger and disdain. I should be yelled at or punished for something. Maybe I’m not sure what, but this isn’t even about the near-stalking I was charged with, when I would hug the walls of the chapel while you prayed. When I followed you through the church complex until you made it safely to your office. And when I lingered in the reception area of that office, counting your breaths and waiting for someone to come get me.

I did what you didn’t want anyone to do because we all… because I knew you would never get mad at me. You couldn’t do it I took advantage of that. I’m sorry. But even on this small debt, I can’t pay. 

And maybe that’s not a great perspective, objectively speaking, but it’s one that explains a lot.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

Because I can’t really deny that I’m not doing what I maybe could be doing. Career-wise things have stagnated. And maybe they shouldn’t have ever hit this point anyway. I mean, I have two degrees from universities that have cult-like alumni networks. I could email a fellow alumni a picture of my class ring and get a job interview I don’t deserve. And maybe that is not a great system, but other people do it without feeling guilty. And I’m better than them in some ways, I mean, I am a quick study. Very quick. That is a pretty important skill.

But more than that, I am inclined to care, maybe too much. My manager was the one to point out that I invest more of myself than anyone else does. More than an employee could be expected to. But I do it in a pretty odd way. 

Because it’s not about the job or the company or making myself look good; it’s about the co-workers I have. The people are important to me. The people I work with and interact with. 

And she’s right, but I was surprised she had noticed. I’m very surprised she knew that I keep track of everyone’s partners, children, extended families, food allergies, commutes… It’s almost creepy, I know. But my brain is wired for details. Blame the dreams, I guess. The details in them are always so important. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

One of my duties is starting the coffee each morning. And my manager noticed a weird linguistic tick. I always say, “I get to” not that “I have to.” It’s a small detail, but it makes it seem like I am happy to be the one who starts the coffee, and I kind of am. I’m happy that I get to be the one to make sure everyone’s workday can start a little smoother. I mean, the office is full of coffee drinkers. 

I can tell myself that this is why I stay at this job, but it really isn’t. My manager breathed a sigh of relief when I started covering for her on her bad days, but she can’t anymore. She’s worried I won’t move on when I should move on. And I really should move on, now. I just haven’t.

And I can’t lie to myself. It’s not about the coffee. I’m sure if I started a new job some place I could ask for that duty in the negotiations, and while it’s a weird request, it would make someone else’s life easier. So they would probably give it to me. And that would be like having my cake and eating it too. I could keep the aspects of this job that mean so much to me while having more opportunities, more money from a better salary, more time with my girlfriend because of a shorter commute, or any of the above. It wouldn’t even disappoint the people at my current workplace because they would want me to do it. They have told me to do it. But why won’t I?

People put so much time and effort into making me less self-destructive, and even though there was a lot there to move past and I have done a fair bit, I still think I should be so much farther ahead on that front than I am. And that leads to other things. Other signs that I’m on the right path. Like with my career.

But honestly, I don’t even know what is the right path for me. I don’t want to think about it too much because there is a not zero chance that ship has sailed, and I’ve messed it all up.

It’s just that… Well, I have let you down. I have done a lot of things that I probably shouldn’t have done. I didn’t do other things that were fairly important. And when you should have been mad at me, when you should have done something like yell at me or curse that I was born or say that you regretted every little thing you did to make me smile when my sister was taking up all the time my mom and step dad had, you asked me to do one thing. You weren’t angry. You didn’t even demand it.  You asked me to do one thing, and I have not been doing that thing.

You asked me to talk, to speak. To not make the same mistakes. And sure, I’m making these tapes, I guess. This appropriation of podcasting technology. But that’s not what I was supposed to do. There’s something different about in person interaction. Of taking ownership of my visions and fears and standing with them. And that’s what you were getting at and that’s what I keep dropping.

There isn’t enough change in the world to balance out this doubt. There isn’t enough change in the world to bring the scales into balance. I could pour everything I have out, and I cannot begin to clear away all the moments that I failed you or didn’t do what I probably should have done. Every dream just leaves me further in the red. And I don’t know what to do now because the dreams won’t stop.

But asking you to guide me right now is definitely the wrong thing. Because I cannot hear your answer, and I really don’t want.

(Music fades out. Beep.)

The Oracle of Dusk is a Miscellany Media Studios Production. It is written, produced, performed, and edited by MJ Bailey with music licensed from the Sounds like an Earful Music Supply. If you like the show, please consider leaving a review or telling your friends about it. And check out Aishi Online, the story of the voice you know all too well.