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and the fluted glass that she had bought at the historic foundation yard sale that he had said, "wow, it looks like I've taken over this glass". She washed it today and thought of him. fucking everything had a connotation.
her brother's illness brought up a lot of shit about how
it had been hard.
she was she guessed over it a bit with the ole "you had it good. what are you complaining about" story that they all told themselves about her. She could recite how not good she had it by rote, but it really seemed like no one but her and a paid listener would care. It's not like they were going to ever go, "oh my god. I never really thought about it from your perspective."
and she wondered if she was adequate in thinking about their perspectives. She thought she had a shit ton of compassion. she thought her job had really been entertain us and shut the fuck up - go talk to your dolls. and she remembered elaborate social structures with the dolls. she had mute favorites of course, but she always let them take turns on who got to sleep next to her. Her bedtime ritual used to consist of a rote prayer and then the company of silent projected witnesses.
The family was a minefield. she was going to tell you one more time (maybe not for the last time actually) the dream she had in the cult that was so "wow": she was up in space passing earth on her way to something important but slightly bureaucratic. she was a wise child. upon passing over earth, she realized that one of her classmates needed to get the homework assignment - that she hadn't been in class that day. she decided to make a quick stop and enlighten her.
she touched down to earth and knocked on the door of the house. it was brick and probably the house they had had in savannah. the door opened. immediately, she knew something was very wrong with this house. The greeting seemed jovial - it was the dad, but the children were silent ghosts clinging to the wall - her classmate was older than her but practically sucking her thumb. it was her sister and brother. The hallway was lined with cages of white lab rats.
Christy decided to intervene - to challenge this douchebag. the mother was kind of off in the distance humming looking vacant and slightly smiling. totally removed. totally defeated. Christy was righteous and annoyed. this was all wrong. she was somehow following the father out of the house and berating him when the mother came out with some laundry. the father stomped her to death. Christy can still remember the smell of rotten lemons. She knew this was going to be serious, but she was committed. she followed the man into the garage yelling at him the entire way. She was going to save them. He closed the garage saying, "do you want to see real evil". It went dark.
it might sound like a silly dream, but to her it was rather pivotal and jungian.
maybe.
it just resonated.
so her mission became tell the truth. don't be fake. fuck chasing money and looks. love each other.
oh boy did she fucking fail. she thought about how fat she was at least 28% of her waking thoughts - lifetime.
and what was fat but stuffing stuffing stuffing those emotions - those words - with rich fatty cookies with butter and nuts and chocolate. and stuffing and stuffing. later of course it became drowning.
then she met him.
it had been late in her career. she had recognized him for Shazam rare star quality and she wanted him. she tried ever so hard to be someone brilliant and dazzling and cool. she got one day a week - maybe 18 hours - to plead her case, "choose me."
and it hadn't been all roses. she drank more than she ever had in her life with this bloke. she wondered if that was because she was trying to act right. the conversations didn't flow like total butter. she would often hang up the phone going 'what did I even say - I didn't do anything but reflect him. when a I going to get to say god you're wonderful and hear it back. I'll keep trying". and you already know the sex was hardly making love.
and she wondered how he would have felt if she had just acted like him, no compliments, stoic face, spinning tales about work and movies she'd seen - telling anecdotes about the great New York past. maybe he would have liked it.
most importantly she wondered what she had been hiding. what had she wanted to show? maybe it was being kind of annoyed - kind of irritated - maybe it was the constant anticipation and real-time over-editing she did to try and get to safety - then bliss.
who knew. she only knew that she couldn't sleep at all when she was with him. she had thought that meant she was in love. she remembered putting a timer on her phone so she would have to wait before she responded to his texts.
she remembers crying because he didn't want to even touch her foot with his foot - the least connection. he just turned his back and slept.
but she loved everything and forgave everything and assumed she must be the problem.
maybe she wasn't. maybe he missed out on knowing someone really amazing and lifetime interesting who could love like a ...
oh well. it hurts too much to constantly regurgitate it.
maybe her mother would finally come alive and want to laugh with her.
she doubted it.
but the girl was a dreamer.
and she thinks the thing she was hiding that she kept wanting to say was "wow, I can't believe this. I'm falling in love with you. I haven't stopped admiring you from the first moment I encountered you. I want to have you touch me. I want you to want to touch me. I want to say everything I feel without editing it - and I want to feel safe with you instead of you backing off and I want to ignore or maybe do the opposite - call out - when I'm feeling scared. mostly what I want is to spend some time in a mutual admiration society and kiss every part of your smiling body."
but it maybe wouldn't have been any different had she said it - maybe would have been over sooner. he was fun to hang out with. he had a great great mind. he had charisma.
and he wanted to always keep the back door wide open.
she wanted it shut.
oh well. what can one do. it rained lightly today and might do so all day. she had lit a candle.
she remembered that time she had music playing and a candle lit and incense to make the mood awesome and he came in unexpectedly and she tamped out the incense - turned down the music, and blew out the candle saying "oh I only do this when it rains".
she should have... just fucking kissed him.
and known he wouldn't return it
and then known
something
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