The Domino Affect

By M.E. Austin

Amy loves games almost as much as she loves music. This is a book of games that has music ringing in her ears.

Bam!

Bam-bam.

Boom...

Board games. Card games. Oh, puzzles too. Games of chance. Mind games. Head games...

She's played one game for over a decade, all while listening to music. This has spread out over thirty-three years, which then turns into...nineteen more years. Maybe even more. Who knows?

She doesn't know. She has never known.

Why?

Well, that's because she's lost. Lost... Always.

The games follow her. Surround her. They're everywhere. Games she played yesterday, today, and games she's ready to play tomorrow. Each with a lesson. One she never thought she would have to learn...until the whole family packed up one day and moved.

From that moment, everything changed, because this move, out of all her other moves, is the one that made her someone she doesn't quite remember.

Truthfully, she can't remember much. That's why she writes it down. To remember things. Not everything. She does not want to remember all of it. LOL. There are things that she would like to forget.

It's a never-ending issue.

Issue. Nope. Plural (s). Issues.

All...over the places.

For the past twenty-four years, she has raised a family of three boys and a bunch of cats and dogs in between. But this isn't about that completely.

She has been put under a microscope by the US government. And she hasn't had a real voice since forever ago.

Hmmm...

5 + 1 + 2 + 1 + 3 + 3 + 2 + 1 + 4 + 2 + 2

Anyway, this saga of a story will make you giggle, make you laugh out loud, and maybe make you sad. Maybe not. But she wants somebody to feel what she feels, because that way, she'll know that she's not crazy.

What she is...she is happy, sad, mad, glad. Mainly mad. At everyone. Even her mom. That is why she wrote a story of happiness and pain. Frustration and anger. Joy and sorrow. Full of ups and downs, both good and bad. Madness and gladness. And every emotion she has never felt the right way. Or the left way.

This book is full of self-discovery and her own personal issues, because she wakes up lost. Lost... Every day. Including yesterday, tomorrow, and at some point, today.

Oh, boy. This is the start of everything. Again.

Now sit down.

Buckle up.

And enjoy the ride.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887939230

Book preview

cover.jpg

The Domino Affect

M.E. Austin

Copyright © 2023 M.E. Austin

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

ISBN 979-8-88793-908-7 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88793-923-0 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

OKAY…

Somewhere along this line of hope, she realizes that she has to do something. Anything. Again. So that's what she did. She changed it up. She changed it all up. Again.

Persuasion is not a gift. Manipulation, on the other hand, is a specialty.

OMG.

Amy is a creature of habit. I think that this is what defines her, along with a lot of other things too. Other things being those mixed in between and around major issues. Issues that always lead her back. They lead her back to a new beginning.

So today she is starting anew. Again. She doesn't know how far this is going to take her or how long it is going to take her to get there. She just knows that she is getting ready.

She gets confused, so she writes things down. Some of her words are legible. Words like blood sugar, and heart rate.

Thyroid…

Thyroid, hair. Or lack thereof.

Crazy eyes…

Spin, spin, drop.

It's all there.

She is even reaching for the river on top of the carpet behind the square glass. A carpet that everybody walks on.

In, out…in, out.

Just like the dog.

She thinks she is losing it all. All as in everything. So she quit. Amy is super good at quitting things, especially when she is talking to herself.

Herself being you.

Anyway, she can't decide which of her head topics she wants to talk about first.

Focus…

How long does it stay in your blood? How long does it take poison to seep out of your muscles and bones? And what happens or is going to happen to her after it is gone?

This… Another fucking roadblock. That is what will happen. It will come back to the accident.

The answer for everything.

That is kind of what she is looking for, but not in those words. She wants to find reasons. Reasons of why she can never find her spot.

A long time ago, I read a book called Feel This Book. By two very real and funny people, Ben Stiller and Janeane Garofalo. I didn't completely read it, but I know I liked it. This is another one of those books.

Maybe.

Today…

Every day of the week has a beginning, a middle, and a future. Who knows about tomorrow? She doesn't remember yesterday.

Kind of.

Not really. She sure doesn't remember it the way that anybody who was with her yesterday remembers it.

My name is Amy. Yep. Her name is Amy. This is a story about Amy. A story only Amy can tell. So right off the bat…

She will tell you that she has issues. Yes. I said it. And I know it.

Today.

Issues. I-s-s-u-e-s. Issues…

Fuck. That word.

She has quite a few of them actually. LOL.

The issues… The reasons… The becauses.

Because…of Amy. Because of what she normally does. She causes a lot of effects.

Why she is doing this is still somewhat unclear. On a good note, it's not as fuzzy as before. Maybe. She does know that she is still lost. Closer…but still lost.

Lost…

All because she found something today. Actually, she found it a long time ago. She lost it, and then she found it again. She is always searching for something… Cause and effect. And quite possibly an answer. But only if she keeps finding the pieces. Pieces to her puzzle.

One problem…

She doesn't know where to put them. Yet. Right now, as we speak, they are all over the place(s). She needs to find one thing. Just one. One part. One piece. This is the year she finds it. She hopes… She better fucking find it. This has gone on for way too long for just one freaking thing. Not necessarily the answer but a reason. For her.

BTW, all those issues are combined into eight-plus years. Right now, going on nine. It has been years…of complete…bullshit. I have to map this out. I need a notebook first.

These things that get lost somehow get found again. She tries to keep those things together. Some drawer. Some box. Somewhere. And then she moves them again. LOL. Because she thinks she will remember this time. It never works, probably because of her issue.

Amy, Amy, Amy. Yep. Amy. That is her issue. Simple. LOL. A never-ending issue. This is that story.

Hello.

Where's Waldo?

About the Author

OKAY…

Somewhere along this line of hope, she realizes that she has to do something. Anything. Again. So that's what she did. She changed it up. She changed it all up. Again.

Persuasion is not a gift. Manipulation, on the other hand, is a specialty.

OMG.

Amy is a creature of habit. I think that this is what defines her, along with a lot of other things too. Other things being those mixed in between and around major issues. Issues that always lead her back. They lead her back to a new beginning.

So today she is starting anew. Again. She doesn't know how far this is going to take her or how long it is going to take her to get there. She just knows that she is getting ready.

She gets confused, so she writes things down. Some of her words are legible. Words like blood sugar, and heart rate.

Thyroid…

Thyroid, hair. Or lack thereof.

Crazy eyes…

Spin, spin, drop.

It's all there.

She is even reaching for the river on top of the carpet behind the square glass. A carpet that everybody walks on.

In, out…in, out.

Just like the dog.

She thinks she is losing it all. All as in everything. So she quit. Amy is super good at quitting things, especially when she is talking to herself.

Herself being you.

Anyway, she can't decide which of her head topics she wants to talk about first.

Focus…

How long does it stay in your blood? How long does it take poison to seep out of your muscles and bones? And what happens or is going to happen to her after it is gone?

This… Another fucking roadblock. That is what will happen. It will come back to the accident.

The answer for everything.

That is kind of what she is looking for, but not in those words. She wants to find reasons. Reasons of why she can never find her spot.

A long time ago, I read a book called Feel This Book. By two very real and funny people, Ben Stiller and Janeane Garofalo. I didn't completely read it, but I know I liked it. This is another one of those books.

Maybe.

Today…

Every day of the week has a beginning, a middle, and a future. Who knows about tomorrow? She doesn't remember yesterday.

Kind of.

Not really. She sure doesn't remember it the way that anybody who was with her yesterday remembers it.

My name is Amy. Yep. Her name is Amy. This is a story about Amy. A story only Amy can tell. So right off the bat…

She will tell you that she has issues. Yes. I said it. And I know it.

Today.

Issues. I-s-s-u-e-s. Issues…

Fuck. That word.

She has quite a few of them actually. LOL.

The issues… The reasons… The becauses.

Because…of Amy. Because of what she normally does. She causes a lot of effects.

Why she is doing this is still somewhat unclear. On a good note, it's not as fuzzy as before. Maybe. She does know that she is still lost. Closer…but still lost.

Lost…

All because she found something today. Actually, she found it a long time ago. She lost it, and then she found it again. She is always searching for something… Cause and effect. And quite possibly an answer. But only if she keeps finding the pieces. Pieces to her puzzle.

One problem…

She doesn't know where to put them. Yet. Right now, as we speak, they are all over the place(s). She needs to find one thing. Just one. One part. One piece. This is the year she finds it. She hopes… She better fucking find it. This has gone on for way too long for just one freaking thing. Not necessarily the answer but a reason. For her.

BTW, all those issues are combined into eight-plus years. Right now, going on nine. It has been years…of complete…bullshit. I have to map this out. I need a notebook first.

These things that get lost somehow get found again. She tries to keep those things together. Some drawer. Some box. Somewhere. And then she moves them again. LOL. Because she thinks she will remember this time. It never works, probably because of her issue.

Amy, Amy, Amy. Yep. Amy. That is her issue. Simple. LOL. A never-ending issue. This is that story.

Hello.

Where's Waldo?

That will make this okay because she hears too much in her head. So many words. Too many words.

Bounce, bounce, bounce.

She needs a spot. A safe spot. Today she can see it. A new beginning…to an old pattern. In different forms of all shapes and sizes. And sounds.

Drama, drama, drama. Or a comedy. Exciting and sad. Boring too… But mainly, it is typical. And all this, plus more ahead, rolled into quite a few chapters. Chapters in name only. No numbers. Just words. No numbers. Yet. Because Amy is quite a fickle person, a puzzled person. She has so many pieces, so many clues. Yet she is lost. Maybe too many pieces. Too many clues. That's probably why she gets lost.

Lost… Yeah. That's why. Maybe…

It's because her head is not on straight or right or left. Literally. But her shoulders…her shoulders are more straight across than they've ever been. They've been that way for a little while actually.

Smoooth…

Today.

Okay, just do it. Start it. Again.

Okay.

Hello…

To whom it may concern:

I would call you, but I am not going to do that. I can… But the first thing you would say to her is…what? Because nobody can hear her. Ever. Her voice is quiet. The words that come out of her mouth are not the same words that you will see here, nor are these words said the same way in her head.

In her head…

Here, her words are clean. Legible… Readable. She is trying to figure out how to keep them separated.

Keep 'em separated…

These words are not made up. They are here and will now forever be here. They are made to be simple because Amy is a simple person. If only that rang true. She is who she is… Take it or leave it.

I am bringing you into this with no warning. Only the hints of something to come someday.

Maybe it was yesterday.

She doesn't know. She never has known. But Amy's ideas are endless. She has so many she gets lost.

Lost…

And nowhere to put them.

She is a creature of habit. I think this is what defines her. In fact, I know it is. Anyway, this is a story with a beginning. But…she is still in the middle, because there is no end to something that is never-ending.

Hence the title.

And there are a million issues that always take her back to the beginning. So this is what she did. She started anew. Again. But she is so far ahead of her old beginning. Then the things in the middle will get pushed to the end. And the things in the end will get shoved way back. To the start, back.

OMG…

It will never end if I don't start…in the beginning… Round and round she goes. The reason for her beginning in the middle. The reason…is her.

Amy, Amy, Amy. Yep. Amy, Amy, Amy.

She never knows where to start or where to begin. Why's that, you ask?

Because they irritate me. That's why. Every day.

It's all in the way they look at her. It's in their smile.

I wish that I could go away just for a moment. Not to see what's out there but to see something other than today. How is she going to manipulate this situation? How will she use this to her advantage? Manipulate…the situation. How is she going to watch and listen? Without vomiting? She felt okay.

This morning…

She had a neck tug and an X-ray. Again.

What is this thing inside of me? Maybe a stroke. Maybe not. Mom had the same thing going on some years ago. About the same age. Maybe.

Am I going to stroke out? Am I stroking out?

As Aaron would put it, this is all I care about. Not because it is me. Because it is Amy.

Amy, Amy, Amy.

It's almost over. But there are some things that will never be over.

Liar.

About so much.

The little things add up. What do I believe? You have no idea. I don't even know. Right now, anyway.

Right now? All my hair is falling out.

What is happening to me? Will I ever know? Probably, not.

Accept it.

And my face…is fucking ugly.

This is the only place that I'm okay. You cannot see me or look at me here. Yes. I am okay here. This is my spot.

Blah, blah, blah.

Tomorrow, I'll be outside. All…day.

But tonight, she is going to stay, sitting by the fire, waiting for her daily crossword.

A day early.

Thinking…

It's not about what you do or even what you said you did or didn't do. It's all about…how we are. And… I've been absolutely terrified every moment of my life (Georgia O' Keefe).

Please, wake me up. Please…wake me up!

She remembers her mother's voice speaking so quietly… No, honey, you're not dreaming.

This is my dream. I'll decide where it goes from here (Alice).

Epiphany.

She can't think of the meaning, but she does know that it sounds like an Amy word. Kind of. Epiphany. She knows what it means. But she can't put it into words well enough for her to be able to explain it and then be able to understand it herself. She does know what a part of it is though. It is the part that is a feeling. An unmistakable feeling. That, she knows for sure. She has them all the time. She has had them ever since she can remember. Although, she has never known how to understand these feelings or how to get a handle on them. They are little flashes. And these little flashes are there. They are always there. And they are never going to go away. Ever.

It's a terrifying feeling. A déjà vu kind of feeling. An unavoidable occurrence that is happening right now, at this or that very moment. And then comes along the eerie feeling that you have dreamed of this exact moment sometime before now. All in the matter of a split second. Everybody's had them. Maybe. Maybe not. But she has.

She was screaming from the bottom of her lungs. But nobody can hear her.

Is she awake? Or is she asleep?

She didn't know. She still doesn't know.

Wonderful.

They terrify her every time she has one. These are little episodes of an instant acknowledgment of a memory of something. That may or may not have happened in the past. Mixed with what could or could not happen in the future. At that exact moment.

Whatever way it goes, it's confusing to her. Quite scary too. It creeps her out every time it happens.

Is this good? Is this bad?

Should I be happy? Should I be…sad?

Is this positive? Is this…negative?

What are you supposed to feel, Amy?

How do you want to feel, Amy?

Tell me now, Amy.

What's the right way, and what's the wrong way?

Amy?

Amy?

Amy!

Pick a side, Amy.

Hurry!

Anyonewhoisntconfuseddoesntunderstandthesituationedwardrmurrow.

It is as typical as it is unexplainable. She wonders if this is her sign. A spiritual awakening, so to speak. But, boy, she'll tell you what… It freaks her out. Yes, it does… She gets head-to-toe nervous…and then she's frozen.

In that moment.

She thinks these little episodes are coming way too often. She also knows that she is not too particularly fond of them. They scare her. And Amy is scared today. Again. Amy is scared every day. Every time she wakes up, she is scared. Sometimes it's a good fear. But it is still a fear. And that is scary to her.

Amy's memory and information overload is turning into a huge sense of fear. She can't explain it to anybody. This has turned into an emotional fallout for her. The boys love that game. But this is not a game. This is not a game, no. Maybe.

During the holidays, Amy had some sort of a breakdown, one like she's never had before. It was dark, and it was dreary. Every day. Amy has lived in Michigan for almost twenty-three years, and this is the first time she has ever felt like this. Was this a seasonal thing? Or was she having a medical issue?

She was sick. Real sick. The holidays are over, so she shouldn't be sick anymore. But she was. She thought that the movie theater trip would be her last. To see the last.

Almost a year ago, Amy received a letter from the Social Security office. It was short and to the point. After thirtysomething odd years, they have decided to change most of what Amy has known. She is being told what she is, how she is, and who she is. Once again.

Playing phone tag can be very frustrating and irritating at the same time. But there is also a flip side to this situation. When you have called my number and I see it on my recent calls list, you are probably thinking that this Amy girl is quite crazy and quite probably a waste of your time. But…just wait. Give yourself a chance. This perhaps may be something that you find both comical and beautiful. And ugly, fucking ugly, at the same time. It is growing, and it keeps on growing.

She missed your call again today. Your missed calls have stayed in her phone for years. She has been thinking of all the things that she would like to explain to you. Just think about it. With a little imagination… This one thing…

Wow.

But Amy was sick. And tired. And bored, lonely, angry, sad, mad, and completely lost.

Lost…

She didn't know how to feel or if she even wanted to feel. She was stale. No emotion.

Nothing.

Zero.

Zilch.

Her words are her tears. Her words are her touch. Her words are her…tone. Some of her words are just words.

Amy likes that you have called her voice mail. She doesn't talk to people much since the world of texting. If she doesn't know the number on her phone, she more than likely will never answer. You sparked her interest by learning that there is somebody out there who may be interested in what she has to share. This is the only way she can do this. She wants to show her boys that something can always be done. How to do that, she is not quite sure. This may be her way of networking. Throwing herself out there… Testing out the waters with the tip of her longest toe. Seeing the where, the when, and the how. Mixed with the what and the why of it all… What she has done. What she has never done.

Honesty is always the best way to go. You don't know her though.

Youuu don't know…

What this may or may not do for her.

Or you.

Or anybody.

She has found reasons, not excuses. And Amy found something new today. Again. That she is on the outside looking into the inside. And that she is a totally different person than she has ever been. Probably because after forty-something years, she has learned that she is a pretty neat person. She does like to try and keep a healthy balance though. But…she sometimes loathes herself.

What a waste.

On a good note, she loves to laugh. She says dumb things in a real kind of way. Her real. She is very quiet. And she keeps most of everything to herself. What somebody doesn't know won't hurt them. Or will it?

Amy likes to think that she is pretty good at reading body expressions. She always watches the eyes…and listens to the voice. That way, she can hear the tone. It's like deciding on the choice of music she wants to listen to at that moment. In this moment. Amy can choose whom she wants to listen and whom she more than likely won't listen.

She is as honest as she is untrue. She is as good as she is terrible. She has done nothing close to everything. And she has done everything next to, but not after, nothing. She is not ignorant. She is not smart either. She wants to feel everything, see anything, and share…something. Maybe.

The few days that Amy went to college for her first and only learnable course, she read a book by Kurt Vonnegut. She doesn't remember the title of the book or what the book was about, but she knows that she loves the way that he puts his words together. She wants to do this so that her boys can prove to their own children and/or themselves that parents can be right. They do know some things. Been there, done that. Just in a different kind of way.

Amy is doing this to give everybody in her world the reasons why she did what she did and why she does what she does. For the last time.

One last I'm sorry.

One last I'm changing.

Because Amy is doing this to forgive herself. And she is doing this to thank herself. She is doing this…to finish something. No more begging for awareness. No more asking for people to please hear what she is saying. And absolutely no more apologies. She is done with that part of her life.

Done, done, done.

She does not want to be told she forgot ever again.

There are some things that Amy does not want to remember again. Maybe because this is the start of a plan—a five-year plan. A five-year plan that she started more than five years ago. She is also going to make this a part of her plan… How to figure out and how to understand how to make life a lot less difficult. That part of her life she has been living with for umpteen years.

Maybe if some other doctors read her report, they could help her find the right path to take. Medically speaking, so to speak. If they could, would they?

I've got to make it or break it.

These are the options… This is an option.

Dr. Phil is quite possibly someone who could help her learn how to live a life without being heard and maybe help her to figure out how to get out of this mess she put herself into. How to speak up without being angry for not being heard without feeling wrong. Learn how not to be such an introverted human being, how to be understood, and how not to shut down. Forcing herself to forget.

Another part of her plan.

Or Judge Judy. She truly says it like it is. And she makes Amy smile.

Or…the doctors.

Is there anything she can do?

Or the cops…

Is there anything she can do?

Maybe that springy guy. She could direct him toward a few seasons of some pretty real stuff.

All around…

Amy has listened to Dr. Oz. Natural medicine and natural food are the way to go. In a perfect world. Not in Amy's world. Although she will eat healthy for a while, and then one day she forgets all about it.

There's Ellen too. Funny, funny Dory. Amy and Dory are so much alike. In some ways. She thinks. Maybe. Only sometimes though.

Purple…

Just ask her boys. She never remembers. And they know it.

Wendy Williams. She doesn't know what the episode was about exactly… But good thing she wrote it down. As not to forget. But typical, she cannot completely read her own writing. What she can read is the number 12105. Wendy looked and acted like she was high on life. Or something like that.

Her eyes.

Her body language.

Her appetite. Wow, her appetite.

And her tone… Wow, her tone.

Amy heard what she was thinking. It made her laugh out loud even. Was she really that hungry? The munchies, maybe…

There was also something that Amy wrote about some sort of genie hat. Possibly. She couldn't read exactly what it said. Amy told Kelsey that this type of exploring was one of her thoughts. She didn't make a sound when Amy was finished with her idea. What she did tell her was that there is a better and more positive way for her to go. That was kind of a letdown. Only for a moment though.

Amy likes Kelsey. It's not about what she says or what she doesn't say. Or even about what she does or doesn't look like. Amy has no idea. It's the way that Kelsey interacts with Amy from Amy's point of view. As Amy interacts with Kelsey from Kelsey's point of view.

Amy hasn't personally met Kelsey yet. They've been talking for almost a year now. Their first appointment was on the telephone. March of 2020. The third. At 3:30pm. COVID. Need I say more? Because she's done. For the moment.

This is for her boys. The baby books that Amy never finished. And the baby books that she didn't start. A family tree that she has not yet climbed. Amy's thoughts on how she wants to do this and not do that have changed a number of times since she has decided on a decision. Her emotions change from day to day. With the way evolution works, so does Amy's behavior.

She's watching how the mistakes that she has made turn out both good and bad. This has helped her grow in ways that she has never dreamed of. For example, her boys have told her numerous times that she swears too much and that she talks like a trucker. She uses those words to show how she feels. No other reason. Maybe…

Amy loves games, her boys, and music. She loves her puzzles too. She is trying to look at this like a puzzle. A puzzle that needs to be put back together. Put back together so that all the pieces fit right. Correctly. The more pieces that she fits together, the more stuff that she finds. Because life is funny. It never seems to stop getting in the way.

Oh…and Amy gets lost in her words. Always.

It has been on Amy's thoughts how to begin to fix herself and how to begin to show a side of herself that she has never known. Much less ever shown. Much, much less ever said.

Left versus right.

Born right. Been a lefty since the age of nineteen. She is kind of both now. She can do things with her right hand that can't do with her left hand, like throwing a ball or swinging a bat. And she can do some things with her left hand that she cannot do with her right hand, such as using a pen or pencil. Or cutting with a knife…or putting in eyeball lenses that never get worn. Amy is blind as a bat. Thick glasses are all the rage now anyway.

Amy's fine motor skills are a bit fuzzy. Without even noticing, she can squeeze someone's hand so tight that their fingers turn white. She keeps her right hand in a tight fist, wrapped around a once-broken thumb, turning it white.

Another habit.

She doesn't write cursive; she can't. No matter how hard she tries. In Amy's mind, she can print. But it's a process. A very slow process. Which is positive because it needs to be somewhat decoded to be understood. She understood it. She understands it. Some of it. Because the pain in her head is never consistent. It is slow and wearisome, traveling throughout her central nervous system.

Pop!

It's here.

Pop!

It's gone.

Pop…

It's everywhere.

It is all that she knows. And it is all that she doesn't know. It is what she remembers… It is what she doesn't remember. Anymore. Anyway. It's what she did do. It's what she didn't do and/or doesn't do, along with how to do this and how not to do that. Is this all in her head?

Zombie, zombie…

Amy has had physical therapy sessions, MRIs, X-rays, and CT scans with every kind of medical poker or machine that can prove that she has had an incident. To prove that she is someone who she says she is. She