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The Wednesday Meeting, Part Four: Dreaming
After Jacob’s death, I stopped sleeping with any consistency. I was always tired. To the point where I would fall asleep on my desk in fourth grade. My teacher was a kinder old man. I don’t remember his name, but he was very thin and wore wool sweaters that might have been knitted in the 1940s. He knew about Jacob and he spoke with us as a family before the school year started. He became increasingly concerned that I was becoming a narcoleptic. After a couple of phone calls were ignored, he met with my parents, neither of whom were sleeping well either. They shuffled like zombies into the classroom, meeting us after school. They listened quietly. My dad feigned interest in taking action, making an appointment with a family counselor. I knew my mom wouldn’t go. You can’t force people to accept help. I think Mom actually drifted off on the way back home from the meeting, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. If I remember it correctly, Dad stopped at a drive-thru and we got cheeseburgers and shakes. We ate in the car as Mom snored away.
While mom refused the suggestion of family counseling, dad thought it would be better if we saw movies together, went bowling and played board games more often. He let me win all the time. It became really obvious. At one point, when we were bowling, I started throwing gutter balls on purpose, just so he could finally win. Nobody…
