by Angela Kempe
It happened again. Jake was rummaging through the fridge the first time when it happened. He thought it was a hallucination and called his therapist who referred him to a Psychologist who put him on Paxil. Jake was getting used to the fact that he was disappearing. Sometimes as he sat on his sofa, he’d watch his hand vanish while he pet his dog. One time he vanished so much he rushed over to the bathroom and got on the scale, just to make sure he was still there. The scale read thirty-two pounds. He told his therapist everything, but she didn’t seem to care. Maybe she’d heard it all. Maybe he was just disappearing to her as well.
Often when Jake disappeared he’d start to have a panic attack. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His face would drain of blood and his hands would get clammy. The meds helped a little with the breathing, but they didn’t seem to help with becoming invisible.
“Can you still see me?” he asked his dog.
Buster was used to him. When it first happened, he’d fill the house with his ear-piercing barks. He’d press his long black body into his paws and look up at Jake with his tail wagging madly. But Buster was used to him by now. He shifted his body at the sound of Jake’s voice as he laid by the couch and then went back to sleep.
But Jake wasn’t accustom to being gone. Jake ran to the bathroom mirror and watched his face closely in the smudged glass. He could barely make out the details of his body. His reflection stared back at him like a faint pencil sketch. The contours rippled like shadows on a water surface. He tried to remember the details of his face before they went. He had never paid attention to his lashes or the small bumps on his skin before, but somehow they had become important now that they were vanishing. How many eyelashes did he have? What was the true color of his lips? Jake felt a heaviness in his lungs again. He tried to calm himself and force a breath passed the asthmatic feeling he had. Then it happened.
Jake tried to put his hands on the sink, but they fell right through the porcelain. He searched for himself in the mirror. The reflection only showed the bathtub behind him and the tiled walls.
“Help!” he shouted, frantically.
He cried, but couldn’t feel any tears run down his cheeks.
Suzy searched the playground for a man in the distance. She thought it was her father and stood up from the sandbox with her dirty barbie in hand. But before she could run to him, she started wondering. What did Daddy look like? She couldn’t remember anymore.