She hated to admit she was so out of shape, but two minutes after almost missing the bus her heart was still racing and she was still gasping for breath. She was still struggling to keep her breathing quiet so that people would stop giving her looks and pulling their children out of her line of sight. "Come away from the strange lady, my Dears. She is obviously sick and probably dying and whatever it is we don't want you to catch it or for her to inject you with it."
Linds hated the bus. She hated it so much. But at the moment it was the only way she could get to work, since her car died weeks ago. Besides, the bus was so much less expensive than parking every day.
People crowded in. Linds actually had a seat, which was miraculous considering the quarter mile dash she had made just to catch the damn bus. She had spilled coffee all over her skirt and had to pull pants out of the hamper at the last minute. She hadn't had breakfast. She hoped they'd be having one of those business meetings this morning so she could sneak a muffin while reception looked the other way. And maybe a coffee. She hadn't even finished her coffee.
Some man's jean-clad ass was staring her right in the face. Someone coughed a hacking, mucous-filled cough. It smelled like wet dog.
Linds looked down and pretended to brushe lint off her pants. Her black... soft pants... wait. These weren't her pants. They LOOKED like her pants, but they weren't her pants. They were too new. And too soft. Linds had black pants that were almost blue and felt stiff. She did have pants that felt like this, but they were brown cords. Not black slacks. So... "Oh, crap. I took Jill's pants!" she thought.
How did she take Jill's pants? How had they eneded up in her hamper? Had her roomate been dressing and undressing in her room? Had she been going through Linds's things? Why? Jill had much better taste and much better clothes! Oh, well, too late now.
Linds stood up as the bus turned the corner and started pushing her way to the door. "Excuse me," she mumbled, actually having to elbow one young teenage guy out of the way, his IPod blasting music so loud the whole bus could have sugn along... if it had been that type of music. She lobbed a "Thanks!" at the bus driver as she got off, and the heavy woman threw a " Good Day Now" back at her.
Linds glanced at her watch as she started the walk towards the small office park, trying to avoid the slush, trying not to get anything on Jill's pants, hoping Jill wouldn't be angry she had borrowed them accidentally.
"Excuse me, Miss? Excuse me!" Linds had kept walking, not even assuming the shout out was for her. How long had it been since anyone but a very old man had called her "Miss?" But the thump of boots on pavement closing in on her turned her head. A young guy, twenty-something, held out his hand. "You dropped this, I think, when you got off the bus." A hat. A cute hat. A soft red hat embroidered with black and yellow flowers. Not hers. Jill's. Her roomate's. Again.
"Thanks!" she said, reaching out for it. "I didn't even know I had it. It must have been in my jacket pocket..." she looked down, and saw that she was wearing Jill's jacket, the shiny black parka she liked so much. What was going on! Jill was going to kill her! She looked up at the guy, who was still standing there, smiling at her. How long had it been? Since someone smiled at her like that? "Not a problem," he said, grinning. "Can I get you a coffee? You look like you might need one."
It was going to be a strange day.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Awakening
There's nothing I hate more than being dragged out of a deep sleep. I hate that sick feeling my stomach turning with the confusion and trauma of suddenly having to FUNCTION. I hate the few moments of not knowing, the inability to distiguish dream from reality, and even then, once it has been established that the dream is gone, the few moments of fitting the facts together to complete the puzzle of the AWAKE.
What is going on? Can I just go back to sleep? Quick, before it's gone completely, I want to go back to my dream. Let me go. Stop shaking me. That alarm? Maybe it will just go off by itself and let me sleep. I just want to sleep. I JUST WANT TO SLEEP. Nothing else matters... Not getting to work on time, not the phone, not anything you have to tell me. A burgler can have my entire CD collection and my old laptop and the one necklace I have that's actually worth more than $5. I don't care. I'll toss in my car keys if he drives off this second and lets me sleep. If there's a fire call the fire department and they'll put it out around my sleeping body. Please, please don't make me move.
The trouble is, even if it's nothing, even if the crisis that woke me up was something as minor as my roomate not being able to locate the corkscrew, I will then be AWAKE. I will have missed the boat to slumberland. Well, I made it, but I chose to jump off. And now the captain of the sleep ship is unforgiving, and will not let me back on until I swim to shore. I am awake. I can no longer sleep. And my stupid roomate is drinking with her stupid friend in my stupid apartment and I can hear them giggling through the walls, drunk giggles about stupid, petty things, things that only seem funny at 3am when you're wasted.
God, I hate being awake.
What is going on? Can I just go back to sleep? Quick, before it's gone completely, I want to go back to my dream. Let me go. Stop shaking me. That alarm? Maybe it will just go off by itself and let me sleep. I just want to sleep. I JUST WANT TO SLEEP. Nothing else matters... Not getting to work on time, not the phone, not anything you have to tell me. A burgler can have my entire CD collection and my old laptop and the one necklace I have that's actually worth more than $5. I don't care. I'll toss in my car keys if he drives off this second and lets me sleep. If there's a fire call the fire department and they'll put it out around my sleeping body. Please, please don't make me move.
The trouble is, even if it's nothing, even if the crisis that woke me up was something as minor as my roomate not being able to locate the corkscrew, I will then be AWAKE. I will have missed the boat to slumberland. Well, I made it, but I chose to jump off. And now the captain of the sleep ship is unforgiving, and will not let me back on until I swim to shore. I am awake. I can no longer sleep. And my stupid roomate is drinking with her stupid friend in my stupid apartment and I can hear them giggling through the walls, drunk giggles about stupid, petty things, things that only seem funny at 3am when you're wasted.
God, I hate being awake.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Best Friends
She had best friends when she was small.
Mary had lived in the house behind hers, both backyard gates openeing into a small fenced in area where Mary's family stored wood. She and Mary had thought it was their own secret place. They would meet in the dank, crouching down in the dirt with the bugs and the worms, telling each other secrets and pretending to save the world.
They had been so close. Best friends. They played together every day, it seemed, although looking back that couldn't really have been possible. They went on walks together, visited the town shops, pooled their pocket money to buy candy and toys. They sang secret songs with secret made up words. Kelly always remembered to invite Mary to the movies, and Mary invited Kelly to sleep over. They camped out in a make-shift tent, curled up in sleeping bags on the floor.
Junior High changed it. Mary went to the Catholic School... Saint... Saint something. Kelly went to Truman, with everyone else. She was jealous at first, stroking the plaid skirt Mary told her she had to wear every single day. Catholic School. Kelly had the idea that Mary would make Mary even softer and more pure than she already was, until Mary would shine like the virgin she had been named for. Instead, mary started smoking. She started bringing home strange girls who smirked instead of smiled. Together the Catholic girls looked like a gang, mmanaging to look unkemp in their matching uniforms, but still sharing lip gloss they lifted from the drug store in town. The last time they hung out Mary stoe a candy bar and a tube of Oxy, which she handed over to her friend. "You really should start using this," she had said. Kelly had felt her heart break in two at that moment.
She had had other girlfriends, all company for movies or lonely weekends. All were potential roomates or dinner dates, But there was always something in the way. And now... now that she was married... now that she had children... she only saw these friends on occasion. Two or three times a year. Tops.
She never thought that being grown up would mean being so lonely. She had always assumed she would have someone to go shopping with. Come to think of it, wasn't that what Greg was for? Weren't they supposed to do all those things together? wasn't that what she had been looking for while dating all those other guys? Someone to tell secrets to, who would let her pick the movie half the time. She didn't realize that Greg would tire of her - and she of him - after awhile. She hadn't realized that taking vows didn't mean she wouldn't need another person to talk to.
When she pictured her new friend, she pictured another Mom. Someone close by who would come by just before lunch. Their kids could play together and they could chat about some soap opera or TV show... or about a movie they both wanted to see. They could take turns going to the gym or out with their husbands while they babysat for each other. They could even watch each others houses and feed each others pets during vacations.
Fantasy. All fantasy. She guessed that friendships like that only happened in movies or on TV, or in books. Like those marriages where they guy comes home from work and sets the table or gives the kids a bath, and still kisses his wife on the lips when he leaves for work. People, grown up people, just weren't that close.
Mary had lived in the house behind hers, both backyard gates openeing into a small fenced in area where Mary's family stored wood. She and Mary had thought it was their own secret place. They would meet in the dank, crouching down in the dirt with the bugs and the worms, telling each other secrets and pretending to save the world.
They had been so close. Best friends. They played together every day, it seemed, although looking back that couldn't really have been possible. They went on walks together, visited the town shops, pooled their pocket money to buy candy and toys. They sang secret songs with secret made up words. Kelly always remembered to invite Mary to the movies, and Mary invited Kelly to sleep over. They camped out in a make-shift tent, curled up in sleeping bags on the floor.
Junior High changed it. Mary went to the Catholic School... Saint... Saint something. Kelly went to Truman, with everyone else. She was jealous at first, stroking the plaid skirt Mary told her she had to wear every single day. Catholic School. Kelly had the idea that Mary would make Mary even softer and more pure than she already was, until Mary would shine like the virgin she had been named for. Instead, mary started smoking. She started bringing home strange girls who smirked instead of smiled. Together the Catholic girls looked like a gang, mmanaging to look unkemp in their matching uniforms, but still sharing lip gloss they lifted from the drug store in town. The last time they hung out Mary stoe a candy bar and a tube of Oxy, which she handed over to her friend. "You really should start using this," she had said. Kelly had felt her heart break in two at that moment.
She had had other girlfriends, all company for movies or lonely weekends. All were potential roomates or dinner dates, But there was always something in the way. And now... now that she was married... now that she had children... she only saw these friends on occasion. Two or three times a year. Tops.
She never thought that being grown up would mean being so lonely. She had always assumed she would have someone to go shopping with. Come to think of it, wasn't that what Greg was for? Weren't they supposed to do all those things together? wasn't that what she had been looking for while dating all those other guys? Someone to tell secrets to, who would let her pick the movie half the time. She didn't realize that Greg would tire of her - and she of him - after awhile. She hadn't realized that taking vows didn't mean she wouldn't need another person to talk to.
When she pictured her new friend, she pictured another Mom. Someone close by who would come by just before lunch. Their kids could play together and they could chat about some soap opera or TV show... or about a movie they both wanted to see. They could take turns going to the gym or out with their husbands while they babysat for each other. They could even watch each others houses and feed each others pets during vacations.
Fantasy. All fantasy. She guessed that friendships like that only happened in movies or on TV, or in books. Like those marriages where they guy comes home from work and sets the table or gives the kids a bath, and still kisses his wife on the lips when he leaves for work. People, grown up people, just weren't that close.
Monday, December 04, 2006
More Kelly
In college her life had been a constant drama. It was the boys. She had been such a nobody in High School, and suddenly there she was, guys falling all over her, calling her, talking to her, suddenly kissing her when she least expected it, catching her completely off guard and sending her into a whirlwind of emotional highs and lows. She was flattered. She didn't know how to turn them away. She wasn't sure she wanted to turn them away. Not all of them. Not most of them. She fell in love with ach one she settled on, enough to have her hopes dashed, shattered beyond repair, each and every time the relationship inevitably crumbled, like a sugar cube dipped in coffee. You know it's going to dissapear, but when it does...
**********
She couldn't make coffee to save her life. She fumbled with the filter, forgot how many scoops to put in, and the end result was a watery substance that reminded her of cigarette ashes. She found herself remembering cheap morning-after breakfasts.
Greg never woke up early enough to go to breakfast. By the time he made it out of bed the rush had begun, and he refused to wait even fifteen minutes for bad coffee and cold eggs. Besides, with the kids it was just easier to stay home. Kelly agreed, but she loved going out to breakfast. The smell of the coffee - or was it the cigarette smoke - mingling with the heavy scent of bacon and syrup, catching in her hair so she would smell it for the rest of the day. A smiling lover across the table sipping hot coffee. She ordered eggs and bacon. Maybe a cheese omlette. Toast.
These days she never made eggs. The kids didn't eat them - Jimmy threw up the last time he has tried them. It was always cereal or frozen waffles, and that was the extent of the breakfast fare. Greg sometimes joked that she nver cooked breakfast anymore, but she didn't like cooking breakfats when it was almost time for the boys to have lunch. Besides, cleaning up was always such a letdown.
***********
She shifted John's weight to her other hip as she looked down the road, both ways, for any cars that might be coming. Which was silly. There were never any cars coming down their road. But she always went through the motions, setting a good example for her boys. She pretended they would learn to look both ways, too, and that otherwise they would get mowed down one day in town.
The mailbox stood there, a presence. She almost held her breath as she helped John lower the little door and they peered inside. She didn't know what she expected to find - a letter, maybe. Something besides junk mail and bills. A postcard from a friend on vacation - from one of her friends that still took vacations. A letter from someone who missed her, or just remembered her. Someone thinking of her.
Sometimes she did get cards or lettersm and when she did her heart warmed with the silent thrill of it. The high lasted through the afternoon and evening, coloring the second half of the day with the thought that someone might be thinking of her at that very moment.
But more often than not, there was nothing, and she was surprisingly dissapointed. Like checking her email basket and finding nothing but Spam or forwards. It made her feel invisible, as though she had been banished from the real world, as though she were forced to live in her house, with her kids, and her life, instead of it being her choice to do so.
The mailbox wasn't empty. A form letter from her Alma Mater asking for money. The town newspaper, photos from a pancake breakfast on the front page. A catalogue of guns and outdoor gear. A credit card application.
Kelly sighed and handed John the credit card application. He happily took it and tried to open it, delighted. She smiled, kissing the side of his head. She glanced beyond the house into the yard where Jimmy was diggin in the patch of dirt where she was trying to grow flowers. Jason's carrier was right next to him, the baby sleeping, the occasional clump of dirt landing on his blanket.
"I'm invisible" she whispered to her middle child, and immediately wished she hadn't. Even though he was only two (almost two) he might catch the emptiness inside her, or worse feel responsible for it. She wanted nothing more than to hide this feeling, the existance of this feeling, from her boys.
"I love you, "she whispered to make up for it. And also because she meant it. "You boys are my everything."
**********
She couldn't make coffee to save her life. She fumbled with the filter, forgot how many scoops to put in, and the end result was a watery substance that reminded her of cigarette ashes. She found herself remembering cheap morning-after breakfasts.
Greg never woke up early enough to go to breakfast. By the time he made it out of bed the rush had begun, and he refused to wait even fifteen minutes for bad coffee and cold eggs. Besides, with the kids it was just easier to stay home. Kelly agreed, but she loved going out to breakfast. The smell of the coffee - or was it the cigarette smoke - mingling with the heavy scent of bacon and syrup, catching in her hair so she would smell it for the rest of the day. A smiling lover across the table sipping hot coffee. She ordered eggs and bacon. Maybe a cheese omlette. Toast.
These days she never made eggs. The kids didn't eat them - Jimmy threw up the last time he has tried them. It was always cereal or frozen waffles, and that was the extent of the breakfast fare. Greg sometimes joked that she nver cooked breakfast anymore, but she didn't like cooking breakfats when it was almost time for the boys to have lunch. Besides, cleaning up was always such a letdown.
***********
She shifted John's weight to her other hip as she looked down the road, both ways, for any cars that might be coming. Which was silly. There were never any cars coming down their road. But she always went through the motions, setting a good example for her boys. She pretended they would learn to look both ways, too, and that otherwise they would get mowed down one day in town.
The mailbox stood there, a presence. She almost held her breath as she helped John lower the little door and they peered inside. She didn't know what she expected to find - a letter, maybe. Something besides junk mail and bills. A postcard from a friend on vacation - from one of her friends that still took vacations. A letter from someone who missed her, or just remembered her. Someone thinking of her.
Sometimes she did get cards or lettersm and when she did her heart warmed with the silent thrill of it. The high lasted through the afternoon and evening, coloring the second half of the day with the thought that someone might be thinking of her at that very moment.
But more often than not, there was nothing, and she was surprisingly dissapointed. Like checking her email basket and finding nothing but Spam or forwards. It made her feel invisible, as though she had been banished from the real world, as though she were forced to live in her house, with her kids, and her life, instead of it being her choice to do so.
The mailbox wasn't empty. A form letter from her Alma Mater asking for money. The town newspaper, photos from a pancake breakfast on the front page. A catalogue of guns and outdoor gear. A credit card application.
Kelly sighed and handed John the credit card application. He happily took it and tried to open it, delighted. She smiled, kissing the side of his head. She glanced beyond the house into the yard where Jimmy was diggin in the patch of dirt where she was trying to grow flowers. Jason's carrier was right next to him, the baby sleeping, the occasional clump of dirt landing on his blanket.
"I'm invisible" she whispered to her middle child, and immediately wished she hadn't. Even though he was only two (almost two) he might catch the emptiness inside her, or worse feel responsible for it. She wanted nothing more than to hide this feeling, the existance of this feeling, from her boys.
"I love you, "she whispered to make up for it. And also because she meant it. "You boys are my everything."
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