"Are you still mad at me?"
She says nothing. She won't even turn around and face him. You're never too old to pout.
He puts his arm around her left shoulder and drapes it around her breast.
"Please baby. Don't start the day like this"
More nothing. She's being cold to him. He uncurls himself from his wife of 40 years. He sits up and hunches forward, his hands rest on his cheeks. He's upset.
"I'm sorry"
Time passes. You can hear it on the clock. Its one of those loud ones. Each second has its own little click. Watching time pass in angry silence when you are old is difficult.
He remembers when they were young. Sailing around the cape, flicking off the Kennedy compound, cheap beer and thick joints while watching the sun set, its light dripping into the ocean. Their friends, their families, fun, and failure.
That's it. That's what set him off. "You failed to give me a child", that's what she told him last night. It came out of the blue. There was no warning that day, rather it was the sort of thing that had grown and festered over what he had thought were happy years together.
You failed me
"Was life with me really that bad? Is a child all that matters to you, now, at this age?"
That's what set her off. Age. That it did not matter now what they did or how hard they tried. She would never be a mother. Your dreams are the sort thing that you get around doing once the garbage is taken out, and the bills are all paid, and you get that degree you always planned to do, and so on for as long as you can hold it. You can always put a dream aside for the moment but realizing that its never going to happen, that its dead and someday soon so will you too, there is no real way to get over that. Especially not first thing Sunday morning.
He thought. He thought about his work. Arbitration. Compromise. That's how he made his fortune. If he can pacify a sweaty, smokey huddle of union guys, than this shouldn't be a problem. That's how he made a life for the two of them. It was good enough for her yesterday.
No
That's the wrong way to look at it. We both want to be happy. I love this woman.
He turned towards her.
"Let's adopt. We got the money. We got more than a few good years left in us. The help can do all the more unpleasant things. We can focus on ice cream cones, trips to the zoo, and hugs. Let's do it. Let's find some sad lonely kid and let's give him a good life. A great one! I'm glad you brought this to head today. I love you and I can't be happy if you aren't"
He's very pleased with himself. He plops himself down next to his wife again. He kisses her on the back of the neck. She's still cold.
"Are you still mad at me, baby?"
He kisses her a few more times on the back of her neck. Its cold. Really cold.
"Baby?"
She's dead. It probably happened in her sleep.
Don't go to bed angry.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Dashbored
I know what that light means. I got a good 20 miles left. I'll circle around for a little while longer and then head home. I can gas up in the morning. It will be okay.
She's driving. Just around. She's trying to avoid going home. She can't do it forever, but she can do it for a while at least. She thought about a song she liked. A song about roads. A different road than the one she was on but it applied.
I drove around/for hours/I drove around/for days
She sees a man in the distance. The headlights capture his torso. The rest of him is covered in fog and night. He has a brown derby on. It looks out of place for today. He's wearing a brown suit and gray pants. Its like he doesn't want to be seen.
I know I shouldn't, but why not? He could be interesting.
She slows down and cuts off his path safely. She rolls down her window.
"Need a lift?"
He's at a young middle age. One could tell that this is a person who lived a quiet and careful life. He looks well preserved and healthy. What is he doing out here all by himself? At this hour? In Killingly? Route Six is chock-full of adventure. And misadventure too.
"Bless you, young lady. I'll take you up on your offer" He opens the door. She did not remember unlocking it. He glides right in at the front. She was kind of hopping he would sit in the back.
They say nothing. They listen to the drag of the car on the pavement. She wants to hear from him. Anything. That's why she picked him up. She already took a risk tonight, she takes another.
"So, what are you doing out here tonight, if you do not mind me asking?"
He looks right through her. There is a moment's tension. Then he smiles.
"I'm glad you asked. I'm looking for my brother"
She hits a rough patch of road. She swerves a little bit and quickly regains control. When she's comfortable again, she glaces at him.
"Oh, how goes the search? Have you been looking for him long?"
He flexes his lips.
"Its going well, very well. I think I've been looking for about 30 years. I've lost count. If you do not mind, can you make a right, here?"
The sign says "Balley Hill Road". She thinks there is a graveyard near there.
"Sure".
She makes a gentle turn to the right. She's a very good driver. She does this all the time. Its a great way to avoid being home.
"So, your brother has been missing for 30 years?"
"Yes, yes he has. And the search is going so well. I've looked all over tri-state area for him. And I have not seen or heard a trace of him"
She knew what it was like to avoid family.
"You must think me very strange, miss"
"Nnno, not at all"
He paused, waiting to be interrupted again. He wasn't.
"My brother vanished one day. We thought he ran away with his guitar teacher. But she had not heard of him either. So I began my search so many years ago. It feels just like yesterday. Each time I go out and I do not find any clues about where he is or what happened to him. I know he's safe. It's another awful thing I can cross of the list of disasters that could have befallen him"
"I see"
Somehow, she knew he was getting off here. She pulled alongside the graveyard. She kept the engine running. She looked out at the small headstones. They looked like the heads of little children, tucked in by the white fog. Wrapped up in night. It looked comforting. Certainly more comforting than what awaited her at home.
"It was nice meeting..."
He was gone. She did not even hear him shut the door.
She started making her way back home. It was not really a home. Anyplace where you are abused is not a home at all. She pulled alongside the front of her driveway. The lights were off. Maybe he was not there. You could never tell. He was just as likely to leave them on when he was home as off. She did not want to go in there. She knew he was going to hit her again. That was fact. Maybe it would not be as bad as it usually was. Maybe he would kill her this time. Both were just as likely. Last time, he really laid into her. She thought she would never stop bleeding. She was shocked when she woke up without a headache or any new bruises.
I drove for weeks/and months/and years/and never went no place
She stared at her fuel gauge and concentrated. She did something to it. She wasn't sure what it was but it worked. Eyes facing the dashboard, she considered her options. All two of them.
I know what that light means. I got a good 20 miles left. I'll circle around for a little while longer and then head home. I can gas up in the morning. It will be okay.
She's driving. Just around. She's trying to avoid going home. She can't do it forever, but she can do it for a while at least. She thought about a song she liked. A song about roads. A different road than the one she was on but it applied.
I drove around/for hours/I drove around/for days
She sees a man in the distance. The headlights capture his torso. The rest of him is covered in fog and night. He has a brown derby on. It looks out of place for today. He's wearing a brown suit and gray pants. Its like he doesn't want to be seen.
I know I shouldn't, but why not? He could be interesting.
She slows down and cuts off his path safely. She rolls down her window.
"Need a lift?"
He's at a young middle age. One could tell that this is a person who lived a quiet and careful life. He looks well preserved and healthy. What is he doing out here all by himself? At this hour? In Killingly? Route Six is chock-full of adventure. And misadventure too.
"Bless you, young lady. I'll take you up on your offer" He opens the door. She did not remember unlocking it. He glides right in at the front. She was kind of hopping he would sit in the back.
They say nothing. They listen to the drag of the car on the pavement. She wants to hear from him. Anything. That's why she picked him up. She already took a risk tonight, she takes another.
"So, what are you doing out here tonight, if you do not mind me asking?"
He looks right through her. There is a moment's tension. Then he smiles.
"I'm glad you asked. I'm looking for my brother"
"Oh, how goes the search? Have you been looking for him long?"
He flexes his lips.
"Its going well, very well. I think I've been looking for about 30 years. I've lost count. If you do not mind, can you make a right, here?"
The sign says "Balley Hill Road". She thinks there is a graveyard near there.
"Sure".
She makes a gentle turn to the right. She's a very good driver. She does this all the time. Its a great way to avoid being home.
"So, your brother has been missing for 30 years?"
"Yes, yes he has. And the search is going so well. I've looked all over tri-state area for him. And I have not seen or heard a trace of him"
She knew what it was like to avoid family.
"You must think me very strange, miss"
"Nnno, not at all"
He paused, waiting to be interrupted again. He wasn't.
"My brother vanished one day. We thought he ran away with his guitar teacher. But she had not heard of him either. So I began my search so many years ago. It feels just like yesterday. Each time I go out and I do not find any clues about where he is or what happened to him. I know he's safe. It's another awful thing I can cross of the list of disasters that could have befallen him"
"I see"
Somehow, she knew he was getting off here. She pulled alongside the graveyard. She kept the engine running. She looked out at the small headstones. They looked like the heads of little children, tucked in by the white fog. Wrapped up in night. It looked comforting. Certainly more comforting than what awaited her at home.
"It was nice meeting..."
He was gone. She did not even hear him shut the door.
She started making her way back home. It was not really a home. Anyplace where you are abused is not a home at all. She pulled alongside the front of her driveway. The lights were off. Maybe he was not there. You could never tell. He was just as likely to leave them on when he was home as off. She did not want to go in there. She knew he was going to hit her again. That was fact. Maybe it would not be as bad as it usually was. Maybe he would kill her this time. Both were just as likely. Last time, he really laid into her. She thought she would never stop bleeding. She was shocked when she woke up without a headache or any new bruises.
I drove for weeks/and months/and years/and never went no place
She stared at her fuel gauge and concentrated. She did something to it. She wasn't sure what it was but it worked. Eyes facing the dashboard, she considered her options. All two of them.
I know what that light means. I got a good 20 miles left. I'll circle around for a little while longer and then head home. I can gas up in the morning. It will be okay.
What do you want from me?
"I'll be back in six days Paul. I'm going to miss you. Will you be okay without me?"
I give her the look. Something between annoyed and assuring. What I want to say is Yeah. I can take better care of myself than you, you fat needy wreck.
She kisses me. Its on the forehead. This is progress. It took a while for us to come to a more comfortable understanding. We have communication issues. She's really fucking dense. I'm not attracted to you lady. I'll hang out here because we got a good thing going on but try to keep your greasy hands off me. I even had to hit her a few times. Of course she took it, I'm all she's got. We both know this.
"Goodbye. I'll call you"
And I won't listen. I hate phones anyways.
I go to my own personal bathroom. I hated sharing one with her. Its not like she can't afford it. I take a head clearing shit and make my way to the couch. It's only 9 but I feel like sleeping anyways.
When I wake up, my food is prepared for me. I could get my own but why bother? It makes her, what she calls, "happy" and the less I have to do, the better. Being available for this wretch is draining. We're both on vacation right now. Not that I work or anything. She also left me a nice, big bag. Its the strain I love the most too. I spend the next 3 days stoned, well fed, and happy. I even sneak out a few times and score a little passing tail. Sluts, I love 'em.
She will come back in four days instead of the six she promised me. Whatever. She couldn't bear to be without me. She paid to change her flight and everything. She probably told everyone at the resort about me. This is why she doesn't have any real friends, any real people in her life. I love the life she gives me but I hate her. I hate her needs, her weakness, her body, her face, her voice. Maybe I really am getting exactly what I deserve. I wish I could say the same for her.
She waddles through the door and plops down her suitcase. She grabs me and presses me to her face. I am trying very hard to stay cool.
"I missed you so much baby. I couldn't have a good time without you. Come here"
She kisses me, this time on the mouth. I swat her fat face and rake my nails into her cheek.
I'm a cat for fuck's sake. What do you want from me?
I give her the look. Something between annoyed and assuring. What I want to say is Yeah. I can take better care of myself than you, you fat needy wreck.
She kisses me. Its on the forehead. This is progress. It took a while for us to come to a more comfortable understanding. We have communication issues. She's really fucking dense. I'm not attracted to you lady. I'll hang out here because we got a good thing going on but try to keep your greasy hands off me. I even had to hit her a few times. Of course she took it, I'm all she's got. We both know this.
"Goodbye. I'll call you"
And I won't listen. I hate phones anyways.
I go to my own personal bathroom. I hated sharing one with her. Its not like she can't afford it. I take a head clearing shit and make my way to the couch. It's only 9 but I feel like sleeping anyways.
When I wake up, my food is prepared for me. I could get my own but why bother? It makes her, what she calls, "happy" and the less I have to do, the better. Being available for this wretch is draining. We're both on vacation right now. Not that I work or anything. She also left me a nice, big bag. Its the strain I love the most too. I spend the next 3 days stoned, well fed, and happy. I even sneak out a few times and score a little passing tail. Sluts, I love 'em.
She will come back in four days instead of the six she promised me. Whatever. She couldn't bear to be without me. She paid to change her flight and everything. She probably told everyone at the resort about me. This is why she doesn't have any real friends, any real people in her life. I love the life she gives me but I hate her. I hate her needs, her weakness, her body, her face, her voice. Maybe I really am getting exactly what I deserve. I wish I could say the same for her.
She waddles through the door and plops down her suitcase. She grabs me and presses me to her face. I am trying very hard to stay cool.
"I missed you so much baby. I couldn't have a good time without you. Come here"
She kisses me, this time on the mouth. I swat her fat face and rake my nails into her cheek.
I'm a cat for fuck's sake. What do you want from me?
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