Where

by Glen Pourciau

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Yesterday, I think it was, I had a setback. I don’t have a sequence of events, before or after, but I sort of woke up midafternoon at the wheel of my car in a city forty miles west of our house. I didn’t remember driving there and as far as I know, I had no reason to be there. I knew where I was because it’s the city where I grew up and I saw a storefront with the city’s name on it. I was disoriented, and didn’t think I should try to drive back home by myself, and didn’t know how I’d make it there if I did.

A few months ago, I unwittingly drove myself to a suburb thirty or forty miles east. I had no connection with the place, and I didn’t know where I was. I called my wife, Sonya, and tried to explain. Sonya somehow worked it out and found me – I don’t remember how – and she and Elena, our daughter, came to me. One of them must have driven my car home while I was delivered back in the other, or something like that.

Not long after that mishap, I started doing a little better. I’d been able to drive myself around and do some things. Sonya tells me my car is now parked somewhere in the city where I found myself yesterday, but I don’t know where it’s parked or how it’s going to get back here. Another possibility is Elena drove out with her yesterday and drove my car back, and they’ve hidden it someplace where I won’t find it. But I don’t want to accuse them when I don’t know for sure what they’re doing, and they’re trying to help me. I got Sonya upset, thinking to herself what could have happened to me and how I could have run the car into someone when I was more or less unconscious. She’s here in the house somewhere, I think, but I don’t know where, and I don’t want to look for her and ask her about my car again. She gives me a look that makes me feel how much she doesn’t know what to do with me and makes me stare at how little I know about what to do with myself.

This morning, she went to the grocery store and refused to let me go with her. I started to get up, and she put her hands on my shoulders and said I should rest. I asked her if I was resting so I could ponder being helpless, and she said it was to make me feel better. She said I seemed shaky. I couldn’t argue with that one. Every time I’m on my feet, I’m dreading I’ll wobble over and fall. A few days ago, I was walking down our front steps, and this strange floating sensation entered my head like water moving inside it. I somehow managed to fall over backwards and hit my head on a concrete step. I groaned and finally got myself sitting up, still stunned and catching my breath. I couldn’t think where Sonya was and was embarrassed to shout. I pushed myself up and stood and then fell over backwards and hit my head again, maybe on the same step. I remember being on my side on the steps and waiting for something to happen. At some point, I was back in the house lying in bed, head aching and rolling around inside itself, though later on, I felt well enough to stand and walk slowly while holding the wall.

I’ve been thinking of calling Elena, to ask if she knows where my car is. She might resist giving me a straight answer, but I don’t think she’ll lie to me. I can try to convince her to see things the way I see them. I can tell her that I’m trapped inside the house and my own head, and inside my head is not a good place to be. I’ll say the idea of driving scares me too but at home, I’m limited to a few rooms. I’ll tell her I can’t do anything without my car.