Echoes and Voices
”You can’t possibly be enjoying this.”
He’s driving my truck, his three children in the backseat, and it’s raining. We’ve been driving around the mall and R is demanding a cookie. I smile at him in response. How can I say what I feel?
***
The day started in my country home. Just the husband and I, and our three cats. It’s a good life, a relaxing life. I can walk from my bedroom to my bathroom on the other end of the house completely naked. I can turn the tv on or leave it off as I choose. I can play music with swear words in it at full volume. It is a life I’ve earned. It is a home I have made. It is a love I’ve built over decades. I am the Phoenix: reborn, redefined time and again, but I have found a nest that suits me.
I got dressed for work, grabbed my coffee and headed out the door. It’s during these very early hours that I admire my home. There are pretty views of the pre-dawn out my front door. Big Red sits where I back her into her spot. There are frogs chirping and the first birds of the day are waking up. Most of the days the sky is clear and I can see stars. It’s a peaceful feeling.
Work goes by, and I’m mindful to keep everyone on task. When someone asks if I have a hot date tonight, I say yes. “Charleston?” I smile and they giggle. They know. “OoooOOOoooo, Jewel’s got a date tonight with her booOOOoooyfriend.” My colleague with the same name laughs and says we need to get together sometime when we’re all down in Chucktown. I grimace and ask if he’s a townie now. He shrugs and says that’s the plan, they’re already looking at houses. Well damn.
“So it wouldn’t be weird if I met up with T, his wife and Matt was there? Wouldn’t she feel jealous?” He asks. “No,” I reply, “Her boyfriend would probably be there too.” His mind works through this and I cackle, leaving the room while he says he never knows what’s gonna come out of my mouth. At least he’s not concerned about what’s going into it.
***
I’m grabbing coffee before I drive the two hours down to his place. I’m in my scrubs that have passed two co-worker sniff tests. I even lint rolled them off to be sure. The drive is easy, I have three days off and all the luck. No big plans. Who needs plans?
It’s an easy night. I watch video games, Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee, and make my morning plans. He has to work a half day, but she is going to a coffee meeting for poly people. I ask for a ride and she’s happy to! Great!
I’m up in the morning and ready to go. This is the first real time I’ve gotten to have alone with her. As expected it was easy for me. We compared notes on upbringing, on hobbies and lifestyle choices. I think for a moment this would be a good Comedians in Cars episode, and we’re even going to get coffee.
The meeting goes well. I don’t talk much, but I don’t need to. I’m moved by stories I hear, by people I meet. I volunteer the husband for work. All the hallmarks of poly life. I sip my overpriced coffee and smile to myself. This is a life I could live. This is a world I could be a part of.
We leave the meeting and I get a bonus round. He’s meeting us for lunch. We’re in her car and she has him on speaker, and he chuckles. “I love everyone in the car.” Me too, dude. Me too. It’s Greek food, so we drive to his work and I expect to meet him outside. But she’s blazing a trail upstairs and I follow like her little lamb. We’re going inside? Oh gosh, people will see me with you here?
She’s in his office so fast, and he’s standing when I peer in, amused to the heights to see him while I’m standing beside her. I’d give a small fortune to know his thoughts. We leave, the three musketeers and climb into his car. I don’t even have to ask where to go, there is only one option and deep inside I’m thankful that she can choose. This has been a sore spot with others in the past, but it’s effortless here. One more highlight for the reel.
“Do you like Greek?”
***
It’s 2003. Curtis is a friend of my husband’s, a co-worker. He doesn’t bother disguising his attraction to me. He makes it his mission to get me to try new things while he drives J and I around in his truck. There’s a Greek place, he says. “You have to try Baklava.” Why not? I’m miserable. J will probably accuse me of being too excited to try it. I’ll pay for it in bruises, but at least tonight I will have earned them. It’s delicious. I ask for more but the only piece left has been nibbled by Curtis. He offers it to me and I take it. Wrong move. That night after we get home, I’m kicked so hard the baklava returns. “Why didn’t you just kiss him in front of me?” I don’t see Curtis again for four months. I don’t eat Greek food for 15 years.
When I left J later that year, it was Curtis who took me away from the house while I waited for him to clear out. But Curtis could only see his good fortune that I was now available instead of understanding that I had just taken the first step on a very hard road. I would never see him again, but I can still see the taillights of his truck driving slowly away while I met the police in my own driveway.
***
“Do you like Greek?” How do I answer that? Everything in my life has a bad memory etched in it. But I won’t let him win here and now. I won’t let a decade and a half recede to nothing and engulf me. “Sure.” If I’m going to face this demon, I’m going to do it on my terms, and with two of the best people I could ask for.
It’s nothing like the place I had been to before. The food is easy to figure out, and I get something I’m happy with. It’s tasty. I’m sitting in the booth, listening to their early dating stories, and I’m happy. I’m happy. His power diminished even more. It turns out I like Greek food. They don’t know how deeply I’m touched. It’s just lunch on a nice day. It’s written over an old file, and a demon in my head shrivels and disappears forever.
The rest of the day is not nearly so dramatic. There’s food and kids and talking. Everything makes me laugh, and I’m sure by now he wonders if that’s just because I’m being nice, but I’m genuinely happy. I get to feel joy and eat Greek food, and if I had shared a bite, no one would have been angry with me.
We play mini golf on a waterlogged course. I win. He takes it badly and while I’m laughing, I experience pure joy again. He will not hit me for winning. His teasing is as an equal. A partner. I have made the right choices.
***
The next day is kids day! Free cookies at Barnes and Noble, a trip to the mall, and mini golf at the arcade! He says we can take his car but then changes his mind. I’m thrilled. It’s everything to me to take her.
***
It’s 1989. We’re crammed in the back seats of the Pacer and as usual I’m stuck in the middle. Jean is wedged in next to me, Chris on the other side. There’s jostling, complaining and teasing. Lots of “I’m not touching yooouuu” and asking if we can buy something at the store. “Yes,” mum says. “Food.”
I get to go this time. I’m nine now and allowed to wander the grocery store aisles alone. I can go look at toys and add anything I like to my Christmas wishlist. But before we’re even half way there, it’s fight city. There are elbows in my ribs and moaning that it’s too hot to be so close. I’m skin and bones, I can’t be smaller. With an angst-riddled sigh I unbuckle and heave myself over the bench seat to lay under the hatchback window.
Jesus the 80s were a frightening time to be a kid. But I laid there watching the trees that formed a canopy over the road and chewed my lip. One day I’d own a big old car with all the space, and no one could ride in it unless I said so. And they’d have to talk to me really nicely to look at it. And there wouldn’t be anyone pushed to ride under the hatch.
***
He’s looking at me, his arm resting on the top of the steering wheel. It’s a red light and rain is hammering the windshield. “You can’t possibly be enjoying this.” Homie, I am in love. There’s a nine year old behind this face accomplishing a dream right now. Three kids in the backseat, no hatch, no one forced to be in exile.
***
We’re at the mall. Word on the street says Hot Topic is carrying more Sailor Moon items and since I never get motivated enough to go alone, I completely excuse my behavior by asking if K wants to go. Of course she does. Of course she finds things she wants. Of course I pick them up. It was her birthday and if I’m going to reap some benefits off having them around, they can reap a couple as well.
We’re in the food court now, and he’s gone off to hunt down a mighty kill for his sons. His daughter went to get her own. I have two boys now, sitting across the table from me. Do they need me to handle them? No. But we’re all here and I’m not very well going to bury my face in my phone and pray the lines are short. R is sitting across from me, playing with his new toy. It’s not nearly as fun as he probably thought it would be.
He’s three. What did my niece like to do at three? I spread my fingers on the table, palms down in front of him and he’s fascinated. He pokes them and lifts them and turns them over. He brings one to his face and touches his cheek. His little fingers play over my tattoo and he asks why I drew on myself. Z says it’s cool, so R thinks it’s cool. I secretly hope they don’t decide to replicate my cool with sharpies later.
***
“I did it! I did it!” His little fist is in the air and he’s hooting that he put the ball in the cup. His club lays forgotten at his little feet. We’re all playing mini golf. It’s the first appearance of Miss Jewel, that would later become Miss Julie. They cheer me on, they cheer louder for their dad. It gets serious when he sinks a hole in one and then I up the ante with one of my own.
It’s a hard game to master quickly, and I think perhaps I might use it as an individual outing with the elder two later. Something where the pressure is less intense and chatting a little easier. I’ve yet to find R-centric activities. He’ll play with my hands. Honestly he’s very easy to connect with and entertain. It’s a couple of years before it will take more effort and by then he’ll have more clearly defined interests.
We play through the course and by the end R is dragging. It’s been hot, humid and the game lost his attention around hole ten. Now he just wants it to be over and as I carry Z’s shoes to the next course, he’s got a blue tongue from the slurpee he drank. They all do. They offered me a drink but I could see the flush in Z’s cheeks and the sweat on K’s brow. They needed it more than I did. I’d get a drink at the end.
We get inside and they hit a second wind in the air conditioning. He’s won this round of golf and so I am perfectly content with him buying me a soda to soothe my pride. I wander around after R, and am amused to find K and Z don’t stray far. They even invite me to play a game with them. Space Invaders. Chris’s favorite Atari game. Am I smiling? Is it obvious? Maybe. Do I care? No.
They cash in their tickets for a multitude of colorful lizards and candy. The Fun Dip gets opened in the car. I vacuum it’s remnants out a week later. It’s enough to make me chuckle and feel happy. It’s enough to feel the pang of missing them. It’s all still new, we don’t even hug, but I can feel them.
We head back for the day. He tells me that at one point when R jumped out of the truck he said he loves his family. I wonder what he meant by that. Is he expressing happiness to be with his dad and siblings and the lady with the truck? Dare I look further into that? I find that I can’t. It’s blocked off by walls I built for myself a long time ago. It’s one thing to be loved by this man, it’s something else to be family. I take it as he’s happy for a nice trip and a fun day. That’s all I can take it for. But a three year old has brought up questions I haven’t asked myself in a long time.
At the end, it’s been two days of incredible moments. Past and present combined in vivid detail. Pieces of me formed in pain were released in love. New pieces formed to take their place. Who will I be in a month?
Who will I be in a year?
He’s driving my truck, his three children in the backseat, and it’s raining. We’ve been driving around the mall and R is demanding a cookie. I smile at him in response. How can I say what I feel?
***
The day started in my country home. Just the husband and I, and our three cats. It’s a good life, a relaxing life. I can walk from my bedroom to my bathroom on the other end of the house completely naked. I can turn the tv on or leave it off as I choose. I can play music with swear words in it at full volume. It is a life I’ve earned. It is a home I have made. It is a love I’ve built over decades. I am the Phoenix: reborn, redefined time and again, but I have found a nest that suits me.
I got dressed for work, grabbed my coffee and headed out the door. It’s during these very early hours that I admire my home. There are pretty views of the pre-dawn out my front door. Big Red sits where I back her into her spot. There are frogs chirping and the first birds of the day are waking up. Most of the days the sky is clear and I can see stars. It’s a peaceful feeling.
Work goes by, and I’m mindful to keep everyone on task. When someone asks if I have a hot date tonight, I say yes. “Charleston?” I smile and they giggle. They know. “OoooOOOoooo, Jewel’s got a date tonight with her booOOOoooyfriend.” My colleague with the same name laughs and says we need to get together sometime when we’re all down in Chucktown. I grimace and ask if he’s a townie now. He shrugs and says that’s the plan, they’re already looking at houses. Well damn.
“So it wouldn’t be weird if I met up with T, his wife and Matt was there? Wouldn’t she feel jealous?” He asks. “No,” I reply, “Her boyfriend would probably be there too.” His mind works through this and I cackle, leaving the room while he says he never knows what’s gonna come out of my mouth. At least he’s not concerned about what’s going into it.
***
I’m grabbing coffee before I drive the two hours down to his place. I’m in my scrubs that have passed two co-worker sniff tests. I even lint rolled them off to be sure. The drive is easy, I have three days off and all the luck. No big plans. Who needs plans?
It’s an easy night. I watch video games, Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee, and make my morning plans. He has to work a half day, but she is going to a coffee meeting for poly people. I ask for a ride and she’s happy to! Great!
I’m up in the morning and ready to go. This is the first real time I’ve gotten to have alone with her. As expected it was easy for me. We compared notes on upbringing, on hobbies and lifestyle choices. I think for a moment this would be a good Comedians in Cars episode, and we’re even going to get coffee.
The meeting goes well. I don’t talk much, but I don’t need to. I’m moved by stories I hear, by people I meet. I volunteer the husband for work. All the hallmarks of poly life. I sip my overpriced coffee and smile to myself. This is a life I could live. This is a world I could be a part of.
We leave the meeting and I get a bonus round. He’s meeting us for lunch. We’re in her car and she has him on speaker, and he chuckles. “I love everyone in the car.” Me too, dude. Me too. It’s Greek food, so we drive to his work and I expect to meet him outside. But she’s blazing a trail upstairs and I follow like her little lamb. We’re going inside? Oh gosh, people will see me with you here?
She’s in his office so fast, and he’s standing when I peer in, amused to the heights to see him while I’m standing beside her. I’d give a small fortune to know his thoughts. We leave, the three musketeers and climb into his car. I don’t even have to ask where to go, there is only one option and deep inside I’m thankful that she can choose. This has been a sore spot with others in the past, but it’s effortless here. One more highlight for the reel.
“Do you like Greek?”
***
It’s 2003. Curtis is a friend of my husband’s, a co-worker. He doesn’t bother disguising his attraction to me. He makes it his mission to get me to try new things while he drives J and I around in his truck. There’s a Greek place, he says. “You have to try Baklava.” Why not? I’m miserable. J will probably accuse me of being too excited to try it. I’ll pay for it in bruises, but at least tonight I will have earned them. It’s delicious. I ask for more but the only piece left has been nibbled by Curtis. He offers it to me and I take it. Wrong move. That night after we get home, I’m kicked so hard the baklava returns. “Why didn’t you just kiss him in front of me?” I don’t see Curtis again for four months. I don’t eat Greek food for 15 years.
When I left J later that year, it was Curtis who took me away from the house while I waited for him to clear out. But Curtis could only see his good fortune that I was now available instead of understanding that I had just taken the first step on a very hard road. I would never see him again, but I can still see the taillights of his truck driving slowly away while I met the police in my own driveway.
***
“Do you like Greek?” How do I answer that? Everything in my life has a bad memory etched in it. But I won’t let him win here and now. I won’t let a decade and a half recede to nothing and engulf me. “Sure.” If I’m going to face this demon, I’m going to do it on my terms, and with two of the best people I could ask for.
It’s nothing like the place I had been to before. The food is easy to figure out, and I get something I’m happy with. It’s tasty. I’m sitting in the booth, listening to their early dating stories, and I’m happy. I’m happy. His power diminished even more. It turns out I like Greek food. They don’t know how deeply I’m touched. It’s just lunch on a nice day. It’s written over an old file, and a demon in my head shrivels and disappears forever.
The rest of the day is not nearly so dramatic. There’s food and kids and talking. Everything makes me laugh, and I’m sure by now he wonders if that’s just because I’m being nice, but I’m genuinely happy. I get to feel joy and eat Greek food, and if I had shared a bite, no one would have been angry with me.
We play mini golf on a waterlogged course. I win. He takes it badly and while I’m laughing, I experience pure joy again. He will not hit me for winning. His teasing is as an equal. A partner. I have made the right choices.
***
The next day is kids day! Free cookies at Barnes and Noble, a trip to the mall, and mini golf at the arcade! He says we can take his car but then changes his mind. I’m thrilled. It’s everything to me to take her.
***
It’s 1989. We’re crammed in the back seats of the Pacer and as usual I’m stuck in the middle. Jean is wedged in next to me, Chris on the other side. There’s jostling, complaining and teasing. Lots of “I’m not touching yooouuu” and asking if we can buy something at the store. “Yes,” mum says. “Food.”
I get to go this time. I’m nine now and allowed to wander the grocery store aisles alone. I can go look at toys and add anything I like to my Christmas wishlist. But before we’re even half way there, it’s fight city. There are elbows in my ribs and moaning that it’s too hot to be so close. I’m skin and bones, I can’t be smaller. With an angst-riddled sigh I unbuckle and heave myself over the bench seat to lay under the hatchback window.
Jesus the 80s were a frightening time to be a kid. But I laid there watching the trees that formed a canopy over the road and chewed my lip. One day I’d own a big old car with all the space, and no one could ride in it unless I said so. And they’d have to talk to me really nicely to look at it. And there wouldn’t be anyone pushed to ride under the hatch.
***
He’s looking at me, his arm resting on the top of the steering wheel. It’s a red light and rain is hammering the windshield. “You can’t possibly be enjoying this.” Homie, I am in love. There’s a nine year old behind this face accomplishing a dream right now. Three kids in the backseat, no hatch, no one forced to be in exile.
***
We’re at the mall. Word on the street says Hot Topic is carrying more Sailor Moon items and since I never get motivated enough to go alone, I completely excuse my behavior by asking if K wants to go. Of course she does. Of course she finds things she wants. Of course I pick them up. It was her birthday and if I’m going to reap some benefits off having them around, they can reap a couple as well.
We’re in the food court now, and he’s gone off to hunt down a mighty kill for his sons. His daughter went to get her own. I have two boys now, sitting across the table from me. Do they need me to handle them? No. But we’re all here and I’m not very well going to bury my face in my phone and pray the lines are short. R is sitting across from me, playing with his new toy. It’s not nearly as fun as he probably thought it would be.
He’s three. What did my niece like to do at three? I spread my fingers on the table, palms down in front of him and he’s fascinated. He pokes them and lifts them and turns them over. He brings one to his face and touches his cheek. His little fingers play over my tattoo and he asks why I drew on myself. Z says it’s cool, so R thinks it’s cool. I secretly hope they don’t decide to replicate my cool with sharpies later.
***
“I did it! I did it!” His little fist is in the air and he’s hooting that he put the ball in the cup. His club lays forgotten at his little feet. We’re all playing mini golf. It’s the first appearance of Miss Jewel, that would later become Miss Julie. They cheer me on, they cheer louder for their dad. It gets serious when he sinks a hole in one and then I up the ante with one of my own.
It’s a hard game to master quickly, and I think perhaps I might use it as an individual outing with the elder two later. Something where the pressure is less intense and chatting a little easier. I’ve yet to find R-centric activities. He’ll play with my hands. Honestly he’s very easy to connect with and entertain. It’s a couple of years before it will take more effort and by then he’ll have more clearly defined interests.
We play through the course and by the end R is dragging. It’s been hot, humid and the game lost his attention around hole ten. Now he just wants it to be over and as I carry Z’s shoes to the next course, he’s got a blue tongue from the slurpee he drank. They all do. They offered me a drink but I could see the flush in Z’s cheeks and the sweat on K’s brow. They needed it more than I did. I’d get a drink at the end.
We get inside and they hit a second wind in the air conditioning. He’s won this round of golf and so I am perfectly content with him buying me a soda to soothe my pride. I wander around after R, and am amused to find K and Z don’t stray far. They even invite me to play a game with them. Space Invaders. Chris’s favorite Atari game. Am I smiling? Is it obvious? Maybe. Do I care? No.
They cash in their tickets for a multitude of colorful lizards and candy. The Fun Dip gets opened in the car. I vacuum it’s remnants out a week later. It’s enough to make me chuckle and feel happy. It’s enough to feel the pang of missing them. It’s all still new, we don’t even hug, but I can feel them.
We head back for the day. He tells me that at one point when R jumped out of the truck he said he loves his family. I wonder what he meant by that. Is he expressing happiness to be with his dad and siblings and the lady with the truck? Dare I look further into that? I find that I can’t. It’s blocked off by walls I built for myself a long time ago. It’s one thing to be loved by this man, it’s something else to be family. I take it as he’s happy for a nice trip and a fun day. That’s all I can take it for. But a three year old has brought up questions I haven’t asked myself in a long time.
At the end, it’s been two days of incredible moments. Past and present combined in vivid detail. Pieces of me formed in pain were released in love. New pieces formed to take their place. Who will I be in a month?
Who will I be in a year?
Comments
Post a Comment