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Voices

I know I’m not the only one. Everyone has that inner voice that speaks at various times. Sometimes it utters a fleeting, instructional phrase such as, “Stop for gas” or “Get milk.” Sometimes it gives a warning that you should definitely heed. “Slow down” or “Watch out.” Once in a while it conjures up pleasant things when your brain has a chance to relax. “Remember that time when—” or “That was really funny the other day when—.”

I think about this voice as I’m driving down Route 1. It’s a constant throughout the day that I usually hear briefly, then dismiss. However, in times of stress, it’s impossible to brush off.

The car begins to sound a little rough. “That isn’t right,” the voice in my head states. I listen for a bit. No, that isn’t right. Yet I try to calm myself. “It’s okay, you’re just stressed. You’re thinking something is wrong with the car because there are other things going wrong in your life. Don’t be paranoid.” I listen more. The car definitely sounds a little rough. “Something’s wrong! Something’s wrong!” shouts the voice.

Then it’s the dueling banjo of voices. “Something’s wrong!” “Nothing’s wrong!” “Something’s wrong with the car, ohmigawd!” “Nothing’s wrong with the car, don’t be paranoid!”

There’s something wrong with the car. When I pull into work I see that the muffler is dangling at a crooked angle. It’s definitely not where it’s supposed to be.

Then comes the voice that spews out a torrent of swears like dragon fire. It can’t be described as a set of multiple, individual swears. It’s rather one long swear that’s strung together like an add-a-bead necklace. After the muffler gets fixed by the best mechanic to ever grace the planet, the stress voice bows out for a bit.

The voice returns for my bi-annual dental cleaning. This is the version designed for distraction. As the hygienist scrapes and digs, the master of distraction voice discusses the minutiae of life. “You need this and this and this at the grocery store. And don’t forget to do this when you get home. Call So-and-So.” Then I mentally tell a funny memory story so that I can kind of forget that my mouth is going through torture via sharp instruments that seem like they were invented in the era of Vlad the Impaler.

In times of batten-down-the-hatches-and-just-go stress, there’s one single phrase repeated by the voice in a loop, “Itsokayitsokayitsokay.” First there’s the phone call, out of the blue and completely unexpected in nature. Then the voice. “Itsokayitsokayitsokay.” Get in the car. “Itsokayitsokayitsokay.” Get to where I need to be in one piece. “Itsokayitsokayitsokay.”

I rush to the local medical center then follow an ambulance to the nearest hospital. This is when my own voice takes a back seat and Morgan Freeman’s takes over. Yes, you read that right. I know it sounds completely silly. But when you think about it, who better than Morgan Freeman, the voice of God Himself in Bruce Almighty, to take over the microphone once in a while? At a time such as when I’m following an ambulance to the hospital, my own voice just simply won’t do.

Mr. Freeman’s voice hangs out for a while. “Relax. Don’t panic.” “Everything will be fine.” “Take a deep breath.” That instruction comes up a lot, the take a deep breath one.

There’s the operation. Then there’s some more instruction in Mr. Freeman’s voice to just relax. Don’t panic. Take a deep breath. Then there’s word from the surgeon. All has gone very well. “Told you so,” says Mr. Freeman’s voice.

I visit the hospital room when the surgeon says I may to make sure all is fine. It’s all good. Elevator down to the lobby. Silence in my head.

In the lobby I see a man and woman beaming at a nurse who is walking over with a tiny baby in a car seat. The nurse hands the seat to the man. “Enjoy!” the nurse chirps.

“Wow, now isn’t that nice?” the voice in my head says. This one doesn’t belong to Mr. Freeman. This one is my own.

Juliana Gribbins is a writer who believes that absurdity is the spice of life. Her book Date Expectations is winner of the 2016 IPPY silver medal for humor. Write to her at jeepgribbs@hotmail.com.