Relationships are elemental. Some have few stable isotopes, if any, and they decay according to their short half-lives. Others are as stable as Tin, Xenon, or Cadmium. Yet even these elements have a number of unstable isotopes.
Tara is a kindred spirit: a wise mind, a wizened soul, and a back that carries too many burdens. It warms my heart to see Tara smile, and whenever Jeanene used to make her rounds at work, such a reaction was inevitable. They were best friends, even after Jeanene got fired because her mental instabilities caused her to be missing in action too many times.
Tara began to take off days to help Jeanene; eventually they were taken to help herself. “Good morning” lost its compound. After a while, her tears lost the spontaneity of their combustion. Carbon monoxide began to cloud the back hallway even more than usual.
Jeanene is far worse off. Five or six months later and she still hasn't found a job. On many occasions she can't even find herself, as Tara has gone out of her way many times by driving around the county to find her at all hours of the night. Her boyfriend owes her money because he's a crystal meth addict and she has taken to puffing air out of cans. Her mother has had to call the cops on her numerous times.
Tara, despondent, has resigned to the accelerated decay. She says she can't do it anymore, and, earlier this week, frankly stated that Jeanene is going to die. A part of my heart went out to my kindred spirit. I wanted to draw her near—and while I would feel nothing from the hug just as I haven't for years, I wanted her to absorb the compassion, the reassurance, the inner warmth blocked within me. Like water to dry ice, I wanted her to cry on my shoulder to expedite the process of commiseration through sublimation, creating a temporary, smoky union of weary souls.
