I don’t know anything anymore

apparently i was sitting in my driveway last night.

cody told me this this morning, like it was a normal thing to say.
said it had been raining. said i was just sitting there, on the concrete, not doing anything.

i don’t remember that.

i remember going to bed.
i remember the house being quiet.
i remember checking the locks.

i do not remember the rain.

when i asked how long i’d been there, he said he wasn’t sure.
said he didn’t want to scare me.

this is where i should say something important.

i didn’t know until today, but cody deals with schizophrenia.
he told me calmly, like it was just another fact.
he also told me about the way he checks things—using his phone camera to make sure something’s actually there.

he said he checked.

said he pointed his phone at me.
said i showed up on the screen.

that’s the part that won’t leave my head.

i keep trying to tell myself this is a misunderstanding.
that he misread the situation.
that i forgot something simple.

but i don’t have any memory gaps big enough to explain that.

i checked the driveway after he left.
it was dry by then.

i don’t know what i was doing out there.
i don’t know why i don’t remember it.

i don’t like that someone else had to tell me where i was.

— edwin