I found myself laying in bed this morning. The blankets
wrapped around my feet, exposing my midsection, then coming back up to cover my
shoulders and neck. I wonder when the bomb went off in the bed to destroy the
covers my love always makes. And keeps made.
I stir slightly when she gets out of bed. I hear her open
the dresser and pull out her clothes for pilates. I stay still.
I hear her put her shoes on and take the dogs out. I hear
their bowls fill with food, I remain still.
She comes into the bedroom and kisses me goodbye. I stay
still.
I reach for my book and in the dim light of my open window,
I read.
My memory strains to remember the last day I had with
nothing to do laid before me. I make a pot of coffee and forget about my cup
until it’s luke warm sitting on my night stand. I drink half of it in one sip.
11am comes around. I’m still in my pajamas. I’ve pulled my
laptop up close to me and started a slideshow. A slideshow of the year that’s
passed. I can’t keep track of memories unless they are followed by a
photograph. My memories not the best.
It’s two minutes before noon, and I still haven’t decided
what to do today. It’s hard to decide when you can do anything.
My mood is light, and full of conquering desires. I’ll make
today mine, however I decide.
It was the eve of 2011, the
end of 2010.The lights up and
down Newbury St were shining a soft white glow onto the trampled snow. The
chill in the air biting at heels crammed in platforms and spiked wedges.
I watched waves of people
come in looking frazzled and trying hard to cling onto the end of a year almost
behind us. The looks on their faces merely mirroring their thoughts of regret,
and goals left unfulfilled. They hid it, after all the hair spray and makeup
was plastered onto them, they hid it well. Walking out the door knowing they
were going to make the best of the last night of the year. Knowing, they had
to.
I waited for her last client
and climbed into her chair after closing time. She curled my short hair, only
scalding my ear slightly in her hurry. After all, she had a new year to bring
and an old year to say goodbye to as well.
We locked up all 5 floors
and left out the front door. Wishing well and happy thoughts for the new year.
I made my way through lines
thick with people. Trains filled with 2010 plastered across eyes and held on by
bridges of noses. Hats with 20 on one antennae and 10 on the next. Bobbling
back and forth as they swayed with the train as it stopped, and continued
onward to it’s next destination. It didn’t care for new years, new days, or new
stops. It had one destination to get to.
I made the 20 minute walk
home in 15. Just another way of counting down the minutes. Watching time fly
by, without my permission.
She came to my door while I
was still getting ready. Perfectly dressed and handsome like every time my eyes
set upon her.
I made her wait as I rushed
from bedroom, to bathroom, to kitchen. Fussing with my stockings, then my
shoes, then my dress. In her haste she had forgotten to schedule a cab. It was
hopeless, we started to walk.
Arm in arm we fumbled. My
wedges eating at the backs of my ankles, all the while the air biting at them.
Raw, I could feel the blisters already waiting to form at the surface.
We got near the subway
station, our reservation at the restaurant well under way, without our bodies
in the warm seats. I took her arm fiercely in mine and turned a corner.
We entered a sushi
restaurant, with all but one other patron in it. Close to 10pm, we were alone.
I stared at her from across the table. This was my new years. I was starting it
with her.
My previous new years erased
in but a single swipe of her hand towards her beer glass. I forgot everything
else. All the other times of disappointment and lost hopes of new beginnings. I
was with her. What else could matter?
We laughed, and ate until we
were full. She left a piece of sushi behind, like a calling card of some
macabre sushi slaughterer. There is only one left alive..
We crossed the street and
got onto the subway. What felt like minutes, we were at her house.
She gave me a pair of
pajamas, for in our haste we hadn’t remembered I didn’t have any clothes at her
house.
I put them on and we crawled
into her cold bed. Foreign and strange to me, I loved it because it was hers. I
imagined her laying in it late at night, watching tv or thinking of me. We laid
close and kissed at midnight. The sheets warming around us. By 12:05, we were
asleep.
In my older years, I’ve learned to put differences aside,
although we have very little, and I’ve grown quite close to him.
He asked to borrow $500, I gave it to him without batting an
eyelash.
He asked for tickets to come visit my girl friend and I, I
paid for him and his girlfriend.
Let me dissect it a little further.
My brother is 3 years and 4 days younger than me.
When I moved back home after I dropped out of college, my
mom tried to get me to pay rent even though I had a full time job I was trying
to save up to move to Boston with.
My grandma bought, and paid my cell phone bill when I left
for said college.
My mom made me get my first job when I was 15, over summer
vacation.
I bought my computer with my own money from working and
saving.
Now, on the other hand. My brother’s first job came when he
was 20ish, and it was for less than 4 months over his summer vacation in
college. He quit because he didn’t like dealing with people.
They never asked him to pay for rent while he lived at home and
went to college. With no job.
He has a car that’s under my moms name and insurance.
He has a cell phone my mom pays for every month.
My mom just bought him a computer for graduating college.
He again, tried to have another job but quit as they wouldn’t
cater to him only wanting 12 hours a week.
I listen to my mom bitch about my brother for hours on the
phone, and I listen to my brother bitch about my mother on the phone for hours.
I nod my head in agreement with both of them and never utter my opinion.
I was the first-born, I went through the ring of fire and
know the wrath of my mother not wanting a daughter, and not wanting children to
begin with. I’ve experienced first hand what it’s like to have a mother whose
maternal instincts never kicked in. I’ve sat screaming at the kitchen table
when no one would help me with my math homework. I’ve taken my own slides for
portfolio review and admittance into college.
Every day I delve a bit deeper into the psych that is understanding my mother and her thin as a thread link
with me.
She’ll tell my brother her communication with me has never
been strong. And with me won’t say a word. Or the words she does say are thick
with sarcasm and general animosity.
It’s so magnificent to me how truly obvious she is in her
maternal neglect to even a grown child.
To this day I still call her a distant older sister rather
than a mother.
I digress.
How do you form the words to tell your brother the real
world is going to cock slack him when he wakes up to it one day? You can’t always
have everything handed to you.
Christmas. It’s come, and it’s gone just as quickly. I’m
often amazed at how fast time seems to be going by. I barely have enough time
to get my head situated on my own shoulders, let alone grasp if it’s a Monday
or a Thursday.
It’s been two, maybe three years since I’ve been home for
the Holidays. I truly haven’t decided if this upsets me or if I’m just ok with
it.
My mom has never been one for Christmas spirit, or for any
kind of joyous feelings in general. Over the years, little by little she’s
weeded away any festive decoration in the house and eventually stopped all
together. The last Christmas I was home I remember seeing a foot tall wooden
stick with random sticks branching out from it, taking on some odd shaped
Christmas tree. Small wooden ornaments barely the size of my thumb hung from
the branches.
It tugged on my heartstrings, and made me ache for a
different kind of holiday. A holiday with a family, or with a person who cares.
My grandma always stressed out about the holidays. Giving
empty threats and guilt trips when my mom didn’t want to travel down to her
house. Which is a 10 minute car ride, even in bad weather.
No one likes to be bothered in my family, especially not for
the sake of family. They do things out of obligation or to complain about them
later.
I got my Chihuahua in 2006, shortly before Christmas. I
wasn’t able to come home on public transportation so my mom and her boyfriend
drove out to get me, as well as the person I was dating.
The drive is a total of 4 ½ hours, maybe 5 if you aren’t
hustling. This was the first time since I moved to Boston that my mother
bothered to come visit. She didn’t even come into my apartment.
That Christmas we fought, like most of our Christmas’ over a
present. She’s the type of person that always needs to make sure everyone knows
the sacrifices and hardships she’s gone through. Even if it’s just to give you
a present.
They drove us home the day after Christmas in complete
silence and left in silence.
That was when traveling home for Christmas lost all joy.
It’s always boiled down to how much money she’s spent, or
how much she hates the holidays. Her kids are grown, but that doesn’t mean we
want to hear all the awful things she has to say.
The worst of which is her “don’t ever have kids, kids just
suck the life out of you, having kids is stupid “ speech. I think she often
forgets we are her kids, even if we are grown.
For the first time in my life I’ve had someone that makes
the holidays bearable. All the way from Kh’s friends inviting me to join their
holiday gift giving traditions, to spending this Christmas at her families
house.
I’m starting to build up my own holiday traditions with
someone that knows me so very well. I look forward to buying her presents and
seeing her reaction, because I love making her happy and proving just how well
I know her and what she wants.
I hate consumerism. I’m really not all for it. But I just
can’t stop myself from wanting to make her happy and watch her open gifts. I’d
do it every day all year if I had the money for it.
I remember past Christmas’ and they all turn into a blur. A
hazy memory of things that weren’t quite perfect.
Now. Now they are. I don’t know what I’d do without her.
Without my little family.
I
woke up this morning with a voice that's just louder than a whisper, after a
night of screaming in my dreams. I was looking for Sophia, she was just beyond
my grasp and no matter how much I yelled for her, she looked the other way. I
went to bed with thoughts of loss and can only attribute this to the email I
received prior to bed time.
Over
the summer we had a small miniature pinscher stay with us several times. One of
which was a rather long stint, just shy of 2 weeks. We grew attached to the
little guy, which is often the case with me and animals. He was a tiny ball of
goof. On many occasions he wasn't quite sure of how to pee, throwing his leg up
in the air in some strange yoga pose and would just start peeing. Hitting
his front legs, and even my dogs head in the process. When he laid down he
looked like a frog, and needed to be cuddled before bed. His owners moved back
to LA after the Summer came to a close.
I
checked my email before bed to find an email with the title of his name and a
sad face. Instantly I knew. I knew what waited for me and I still read it. He
passed away during a teeth cleaning procedure. Cardiac arrest. He originally
had been put under to have a cyst removed and all went fine with it, but during
the teeth cleaning he died. Just like that. His owner went on to talk about how
still and quiet his eyes were. He always had large wet eyes that saw
everything. I’m not sure how much of what he saw he understood, but he saw it.
Days
earlier I had seen an old picture of him I had taken during one of his stays. I
remember his meat-head tiny football player body and how he’d throw himself
around. I knew after his move I’d never see him again, but I took solace
knowing he’d be on the other side of the country peeing on himself and snuggling
up in all the blankets he could find.
Now
he’s gone. His owner said she can barely look at his things anymore, thinking
he’s going to come rushing after a toy or pop out from under a blanket. My
heart breaks for her. I’m holding my little ones extra close today. Death is a
natural cycle in life, but it doesn’t change the pain we feel until it numbs
over.
I stood against the back wall waiting for the doors to open. Unexpectedly they slowly creaked open on floor 4.
In walks a woman wearing a gray sweater and black leggings that are barely tucked into her heeled boots. Short, ankle high boots. She has a yellow dog, that's nothing but fluff, who refuses to do anything but stand on his hind legs.
She says a few commands to him that he eagerly dismisses.
Choosing instead to jump on my leg.
The elevator reaches the ground floor and I let her leave first.
The dog reluctantly starts out the now open doors and heads to the front of the building. I watch her walk away.
My eyes move from the bottom of her ankles, slowly up her thighs. Round thighs that barely touch at the top. Her leggings are tight, so tight they cup each one of her butt cheeks perfectly. I'm lost in a gaze.
At the top of her leggings a gold zipper darts down two inches from the top band. I wonder if I was to unzip it, would I see the beginning of her butt? I imagine the weight of the zipper in my right hand while my left cups her perfectly perky cheek. Squeezing it, kissing where the zipper exposes skin.
She continues to walk away while I'm still holding onto her skin in my mind.
It's raining outside. Well, more like misting. I have a leash wrapped
tightly around my right arm, attached to it is a 50lb mut of a dog. My
left arm has a boston terrier and a papillon fighting over who gets to
walk first. I'm stopped at an intersection getting ready to take a right
and cross the street. A black nondescript car comes to the
intersection. Without so much as yielding the car full of people takes a
right and cuts me off. I take a step backwards and shake my head, so
much for pedestrian right away. I watch the two smug business men in the
front not even skip a beat in their conversation. "Assholes" I think to
myself.
I catch a glimpse of a woman
sitting in the backseat. Her hair pulled back in a ponytail, or maybe a
bun I can't tell. She looks young, her face isn't worn. As she passes in
the car, I watch as she mouths the words "I'm sorry." I can see the
guilt in her eyes for what the assholes up front had done.
I
often have moments like this. Times where I wish I could rewind just two
seconds of time and take back the smallest of actions to alleviate
guilt that I know is going to weigh on my chest.
Yesterday I
was standing on the lawn of one of my clients. I had just set the
meatball of a pug down when I saw a silver car pull up to the fence. A
woman leans out the window and asks if I've seen a loose german shepard.
I tell her no, unfortunately. She says thank you and to keep my eyes
open, then drives away. I take the meatball back into the house and
think on how awful it is to worry about a missing pet.
I leave a note for my client, set the security alarm, and lock
the door behind me. I get into my car and start the engine. The metal cd
I was listening to blasts in my face and I turn it down just in time to
see a large furry creature moving to my left. I give a start and shut
off the car. It's the german shepard.
I get out of my car and
join in with a young barefooted woman that's in pursuit of the dog. The
dog speeds up, so leaving the barefooted woman behind (a friendly
neighbor who doesn't want to see the dog get lost) I speed up and follow
the dog. I'm not a jogger. My throat starts to burn, I'm sweating and
my shins are killing me. My worn in pumas aren't the best support for
this sort of thing. I lose the dog at a fork in the road.
I
turn around reluctantly and start the over 5 minute walk back to my car.
Heeving and hoing. I run into the barefooted woman. She's in her red
suv now, still determined to be in persuit. I tell her where I last saw
the dog, in between panting breathes. I get back to my car and have a
moment of internal dialogue. Should I go after the dog or not? I choose
not to, and drive off.
I've felt guilty for the past day and a half over not returning to the dog hunt.
Today.
I'm stopped at a red light.
It's a 3 lane highway and I'm in the 4th lane, it's a left turn only
lane.
There's a green arrow blaring in the traffic light. The silver car
in front of me won't move. I honk, it inches forward. I draw my
attention to the far left. Over the other 3 lanes of traffic on the
other side I see what's keeping the car from moving.
A
funeral procession is ignoring all traffic lights and forging onwards.
It's prevented the woman from taking the left. Our green arrow turns to
yellow, then a red light. I put my car in reverse and back up, giving
the woman in the silver car room to back up as well. I want to get out
and tell the woman I'm sorry, that I take my honk back.
