Variation on a theme

I've been blessed with many things throughout my life, one of them is the gift of vivid and sometimes prophetic dreams. These dreams are usually saturated with symbols that even the keenest psychology student (and best friend) cannot decipher. This gift manifested itself in my sleep Sunday morning when a dream of someone not being able to breathe awoke me to the sound of my brother suffering a nearly fatal asthma attack. Luckily, we were able to bring him to the emergency room to receive treatment.

So hours later, exhausted, but prettied up for the bridal shower I was about to attend, a certain ex of mine, who can be identified easily by his half-witted professions of love, messaged me. I relied my terror of a morning to him and the oddity of the dream. As soon as I had sent the message that my brother was hospitalized, he logged off.

Several days and phone calls from concerned friends later, I've heard not a single word from him. I'm not sure I can count the number of times I've sat through his desperate, pleading phone calls. Heard his self-depleted expressions of the hopelessness of life, those who've wronged him, the nonexistence of happiness, his exasperation at being 'lost,' the inconceivable idea that life has value. For all those patient and reassuring times I have in exchange, his silence.

What he did offer me with it was a valuable gift. The realization that I had seen all this before, that this is a variation of a theme: no matter what happens, he is the only thing he cares about. And as if this subtle memory isn't proof enough, he did offer me something more concrete.

Tonight he messaged me. The first thing I write is: "My brother is out of the hospital. He's doing much better. Not that you care. Have a nice night." His response, "I care. I really do. I've just had a really long day. Good night." Now it is my turn to be silent. I hope my silence conveys what I was thinking, "No, not good night, goodbye." From now on, when I count my blessings I'll count his absence in my life twice.