Sunday June 12 2011

It’s 11:30 a.m. Waking up next to my adorable squeezebox.

Just as I’m about to head out the door I hear her shuffling and making cute noises. There’s a little girl frown on her face, “Where’s my kiss?”

[XX]

Breakfast: Plain Bagel Plain with Butter and Blackberry Jam. Orange Juice. (I don’t know why but I’m losing my taste for orange juice. I drink less and less everyday.)

Full day shift at China Wok.

Not as slow as yesterday—steady steady.

Lunch: Five Guys: Little Cheeseburger with the works. French Fries. Honey Green Tea mixed with Sweet Tea.

Rain. Rain. Rain. It pours for the second, or maybe third, day in a row.

Strawberry Yogurt and Vitamin Water.

After the rain subsides it leaves a fresh scent in the air—windows down—breathing it in. This is therapeutic.

Discovering a cool eclectic radio station while I’m driving around. WMOV 107.7 FM. “Sending All My Love” by Linear is playing.

Delivering an order way out in Ocean Lakes. It’s not often that I have to drive so far but at least once or twice a week a customer refuses to order from the other Chinese place closer to their area and orders from us. Their reasoning? China Wok has better food. Already frustrated with having to come out here because half the time the tip only breaks even with the gas that it costs. This guy surprises me with probably one of the biggest tips I’ve ever received.

After this experience nothing phases me—nothing irritates me, not even a “shit tip”. My day’s work is already done in my mind.

Back home.

I grab Anthony and we head to Becca’s house. In the car Anthony says something about him wishing he could be a shepherd, “Yeah it’d be just me and my flock.” He says he’s a flockless shepherd.

There. Ken and another guy I remember meeting but can’t remember his name are here. Standing around the island counter in the kitchen critiquing our favorite film directors and movies.

I brought leftover Shrimp Sinigang to share.

Becca describes her new job working at a pool. I jokingly entitle her The Pool Enforcer.

Brownies and Milk.

Watching a really bad B horror flick called Mr. Ice Cream Man, chock full of horrible acting and predictable one-liners.

Earlier Margot and I had made plans via text to sleep together at her place but………………………………..Pacing on Becca’s front brick porch—on the phone with the queen—everyone else inside. Something went terribly wrong. It’s almost 2 a.m. and I’m still hanging out with my friends. I’ve royally offended her…..because I shouldn’t be where I am. I should be where she wants me to be immediately. I realize at some point she’s been out drinking, not wasted, but enough to make her hate me. Of course, I hear some of the worst statements you could hear a loved one say to you…hateful aggressive straight off the fiery tongue. I’m in my own B movie—a soap opera—a distasteful one at that. Why? Why? What did I do to deserve this? Absolutely nothing. I love you. What the fuck is this?

Anthony and I drive home.

She shows up eventually encouraging me to come outside………She’s sitting in her car, driver’s side door open. I’m standing there. I really don’t get you. What went wrong? $@!&^%! Nothing’s wrong! Nothing! You’re hysterical over NOTHING! Obviously there’s something deeper going on. And I’m the only one in her life that has the privilege of seeing her dark side. I have the insight. I can see past all of this. But she can’t. I could explain it till she’s blue in the face and her position wouldn’t budge. I only asked her to not drink any alcohol for one week. Just one week. That’s it. She takes it as me trying to prove she’s an alcoholic. Oh my gosh! I know you’re not. I just want to prove that you have control and that I’m the most important to you, cause I know I am. She takes it so offensively. I have to choose my wording carefully.

“Baby, please just come inside. I know that’s why you drove over here….to be with me.” She won’t accept it. This goes on forever. She refuses to move. I’m already tired and this has gone on for too long. All of this is unnecessary, or maybe it’s for a reason. Her hateful stubbornness is no longer adorable. It’s repulsive. In a disrespectful haste I reach in and pull her out of the car like an animal. Her body tumbles out onto the asphalt. I stand her upright. She’s crying. There’s only so much patience a patient man can have. “Baby, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean to hurt you. I would never hurt you.” Unfortunately, she did get a little hurt. She slams her hand hard into my chest in response.

It’s a never-ending movie scene out in the Chanticleer parking lot. She drives off. Then comes back. Drives off. Then comes back. I can only wonder if anyone happens to be looking out their window watching this dramatic scene. Why do you think you keep coming back? Because you know this is ridiculous and that you love me and just want someone to care about you. That’s what I’m here for, darling! I kind of messed up earlier too by associating her mother’s drinking problem as a generational issue. “That’s what you hated about your mother! Is it not? You don’t want to be that! You’re not that!” This hit below the belt and that’s why she took off.

There she is again—getting out of the car this time. As we walk together I stop us in the middle of the parking lot, “Hey. Look at me.” My hands cupped around her sweet little head, “I love you. I care about you so much.” Her arms are still crossed but I know that’s what she really wants to hear. It’s a tender moment—her eyes watery and tense.

There she is….lying in my bed….finally. That’s a lot to soak in.

Baby, I wish I could be your savior. I wish I could dig into your being and rework everything that’s wronged you. I wish I could fix you. It’s too much for one man to do. It’s too much for any man to do. It’s impossible. The best I can give you is my tender loving care. I know there’s a better cosmic understanding awaiting you…awaiting all of us. But we can only learn it in time.

Sleep 5:30 a.m.