Fantastic Beasts

It’s Friday again. Another week passed by slowly and then suddenly started to speed past. He’s sad. And what’s worse is he wants to talk about it. Can I handle that? We don’t always communicate well around her when I’m trying to fix the problem and he just wants reassurance. I tell myself I can do this. I’ve had chances to practice suspending my own defenses. I need to work on that more. 

We go first to Georgetown, to a private residence for a wax workshop. My anxiety is all wound up about parking, this sadness, and in general about a new situation. By the time I get there I lament a little that my truck has to be such a monster. She’s caused half my anxiety tonight.

I walk up and he meets me outside. Anxiety melts right out of me for a moment and everything is still. He’s happy to see me. My heart skips a beat. The workshop is good, I even manage to get comfortable in a new setting. It’s hard to sit through it with my mind working on keeping my defenses down, but he’s rubbing my shoulders or trying to help soothe me and that helps. 

During her presentation and talking I’m struck by how much I love her. How much I enjoy her speaking about things she’s passionate about. How lucky I am to get to be a part of her life too, completely individual from him and then joined with him.

Later I step out to get better reception and T follows to call a friend back. “Hey Boo.” I think for a second he’s talking to me and then I realize he’s said it on the phone and my heart drops onto the ground. I fumble my phone and turn my back to get my shit back under control. How could I think that was mine? He says it too easily, of course it’s just a term of affection for his close friends. 

Which means any number have been called by it. I cough to dislodge the sudden swell of my throat and shake my head. It’s just a word, it’s just an endearment. “But now you have nothing special.” My brain is too fast to argue with me and as usual goes for the throat. By the time we go back in I’ve at least managed to recover. I’ll deal with it later if there’s time. 

We leave the wax demos and head for the meet up. I’ve started a support group in MB, and tonight we’re trying to get together to say hello. Only one other couple makes it, so by the end it’s this crazy triple date feeling and there’s great chemistry. People are laughing, joking, talking, sharing stories easily. 

At some point I stop and look around myself. I’ve never felt more connected to a group, to an endeavor, as quickly as I am to this. I feel right, I feel like me, and I feel like I can do anything. They’re here because I was so inspired by her that I wanted to take the ball and run with it. And she’s running it with me, and we’re building this thing together. And here these people are, at the beginning. This is how things start. This where lightning strikes. And I’m present and aware.

I’ve been feeling very strongly that the life I’ve been meant to live is finally forming. Every day, every moment, every weekend only reinforces it. Like Snow White waking from the poisoned apple, life is breathing back into my world. Purpose is returning. I feel like I was always meant to be here and every crossroads where I had to blindly choose between two wildly different options was a choice made to bring me here.

We’re in the truck again, driving to his place. Time to talk about it. Time to bring up this girl he has struggled with. I hope he’s not wanting me to say much because I think my jaw is clenched so tightly my teeth could crack. He talks, and even though I can hear the hint of an edge in my own voice when I manage to find words to say, I still reach out to touch him and be kind. 

It gets easier to breathe, to talk, to listen. I explain why it’s hard for me. We clear the air. But I don’t have a solution. I don’t have anything other than my own story of unrequited love and how I like to think I’m so much better now at closing that door when D tries to open it, but he texts me at 4 am and suddenly I can’t shut it down. 

I’ve learned at least to slow them down, but then he’ll say that he’s trying poly and my heart breaks all over again. Not with me. Not for me. He’s not mine and he’s not for me. Let it burn and let it sit there, a reminder that life will never be fair. Love is a double edged sword.

So I offer sympathy and try to let him put his feelings in my care. My own pain comes up, my struggles form the week. It comes out heavy and somehow it makes everything taste bitter. I vow to do even better next time. But I’m tired and my walls are down, and too much is trying to move past my lips where I keep it locked down. Skeletons. Choices. Pasts. 

He was never supposed to exist. When I made those choices 14 years ago, I was being smart. How was I ever to know? But then how would I have ended up here if I hadn’t made those choices anyway? Words like fate run circles in my head. 

By the time I fall asleep, my head is spinning. Why did I go there? Where are my defenses?

***

We wake. It’s the day of the birthday party for R and Z. I’ve put together a costume of Ramona Flowers out of random stuff I have laying around. “You’re officially the coolest person here.” Still makes me giggle. 

It’s a pretty cool little party. T’s cousin is there, and we talk clothes. I send her a link to my boots, we chat. It feels good. Her daughters say hello to me, and she’s ready to pop with her pregnant belly. Her husband makes no eye contact but tries to talk to me. Curious.

I mention it later to T and he says they knew his ex. His cousin got along well with her. It loses luster, but it’s not completely dull. Here she is again, here is another thing she’s left her smudge on. Another thing where I am just the next name to learn. The new boo. 

My gifts were hits. Z’s pikachu hoodie seems to be a favorite. Sometimes I get things right. Sometimes when my gears are spinning they land on perfection. Before the party I am up in the bedroom wrapping the gifts, trying to sort through my own thoughts and feelings. Chores help my hands stay busy so I can think. Each fold of the paper like a turn in my mind. 

N comes in and sits on the tub, and his head is low. I focus my eyes on the gift I’m wrapping, but I know he’s had a rough day recently too. I try to be gentle, to ask if he’s ok without prying. He’s not. I listen to him talk, to his fears and his thoughts. He starts to cry. I can take anything from people but tears. They break my heart. I move the gifts away from me and pat the floor.

He comes and lays his head in my lap and lays his pain at my feet. I remind him that he’s human, that there isn’t a day gone by that I haven’t made a hundred little mistakes. That sometimes I still make big ones, but that doesn’t mean I’m a bad person. He’s allowed to make mistakes and try to get past them. I do my best to soothe him and get most of the way there by the time K comes in to see if she can help.

This is a weekend of feelings, of handling the things that aren’t easy. There’s some help for me in this, in helping others. I listen to my own words and advice and let some of the sting from earlier revelations go. I am still special. I am still valued as my own self.

We end it on a good note, with laughs and smiles. Then we help take it all downstairs.

After the party my head hurts. I’ve been overloaded by too much emotion and my own feelings. I go to the haunted mansion and curl up on the stuffed “dead body” for the haunted house. It’s dark and cool and quiet and I fall asleep. Later N finds me there and nearly stumbles back in surprise. He hadn’t seen me curled up until I shifted. 

I stay a little longer, drifting in and out of sleep until my phone pings beside me bringing me back to awake. It’s quiet in the house and when I leave the room, I can see that I’ve missed the clean up. I chew my lip and go to find him. Apologizing, I lay down for a nap. Why is the world spinning so fast? 

Some time later we get up and I introduce him to the Haunting of Hill House. It’s a good theme for the month, spooky and creepy, but I can barely get through two episodes before my head feels too heavy. I throw myself into physical affection, wiping away lingering thoughts and by the time I collapse into bed to sleep, I can’t feel anything but heat and satisfaction.

***

Sunday. I’m sweeping and cleaning and getting the house ready for the meeting. It’s a normal day. He plays video games and I nap. It’s starting to feel like a normal kind of life. Like something I could really get used to.

People show up for the meeting and I’m surprised by the numbers. More people and familiar faces. This is really starting to build. We start with introductions and I’ve lost my brain. S saves me by giving a more thorough intro, and I laugh. I can truly appreciate her in that moment when my mouth can’t seem to form words.

The conversation really flows. All sorts of questions and advice from so many people. So man chances to share and to educate. I feel like a part of something larger than myself. I feel like I’m taking all of my own painful lessons and turning them into growth. Again that overwhelming feeling that this is my life. This is the life I want. 

That night we gather around the tv upstairs and watch the first Fantastic Beasts movie. They’ve set up a blanket on the floor but no one knows where to sit. S and T are conversing in their room and everyone is kind standing around, unsure of what we’re doing. So I sit down in the middle and without even having to speak or motion, they’re on the ground beside me on either side. 

It’s like they knew, like they were just waiting for the first move to make it ok. They settle and they’re cozy. R comes to me with a onesie and I help him into it and as I zip him up I can hear my own little self asking my dad to help me. I can recall the hot summer nights when the upstairs of the farmhouse was an oven so we slept in the living room with the only window a/c in the whole place pumping frigid air in a losing battle so only a ten foot area was cool enough to sleep. 

Someone says popcorn and no one wants to go get it. I laugh and stand to volunteer and they grip my arms, making me only laugh harder. But I want to be useful, I want to be helpful. I want to do things to contribute to this, and so I go down the stairs and suddenly K is there to help me. She cheers me on and we get the big bowl of popcorn made. I can hear memories of my own, all the movie nights of the past, of my own parents sitting me on the counter when I wanted to help but was too little. 

They’re giving me back all these pieces of me, all these things I’ve missed. Getting the popcorn together is such a small sign of gratitude that it’s not enough. When R wants a sippy cup of water, I go to get it. I want them to understand that I appreciate this place they let me have with them, these moments they share with me. They don’t have to let me in, but they do. And I want to give them everything in me for it as thanks.

During the movie, Z curls tightly into me, and then K shortly after. I forgot the movie, I forgot everything but them. I’m quick to wipe the solitairy tear that’s rolling down from my eye with a rub of my cheek against my shoulder. They’ve done more for me in this one moment, this one act of easy affection than all my years of hard work to accept the cards life dealt me. Every time I think I can’t possibly love them more or want to protect them harder, I level up. 

When he goes to bed, he hugs me in his little Pickachu hoodie. I go to let him go but he holds on so I tighten my embrace and hold him. I close my eyes and lay my cheek against his hair, so full of gratitude that I almost can’t breathe. They don’t have to let me in, they don’t have to give me these moments. But they do. They do. And there are not words under the sun or moon that can ever describe that feeling.

When I crawl into bed again, I can’t outrun the truth anymore. I’m sad, I’m fearful, and I’m so full of all these emotions that I can’t tell what’s strongest. It’s the first time I let myself cry in front of him. It’s the first time I let the last of those walls crumble and just tell him my fears. 

He soothes them away, until I can call myself back to composure. I fall asleep against him and let my thoughts sink into the night.

***

He wakes me up by sliding back into bed with freezing arms and legs. He’s taken Z to the bus stop and come back. It feels good to feel him come back. Some time later his alarm goes off, and I wake up fully. He’s holding my face, he’s speaking reassuring words and my sleep-soft mind is soaking them up. There are no inner voices arguing what he says. It’s silent, they’re still sleeping. He can say anything he wants without a wall going up. 

He’s gone so fast. Apprehension races through me as the door closes and my final view of him for the weekend is his profile looking out to the morning. Will he keep his word? Will I?

I pour myself into helping S. We hang plastic decorations and count fake money to the soundtrack of R trying to entertain himself. His world revolves around his siblings and without them he’s lost. He asks where they are, he tries to have fun but it’s never enough. He misses them. 

I talk with A and his friend G. I swear A called me “My Jewel” but I’ve been distracted and perhaps misheard. In any case he brings me my print card for a skit. My head has been on Jupiter again. So many thoughts. 

I talk with S, not to unload but more to share. I can bear my emotions, my thoughts and will work through my things alone. In fact that’s my modus operandi, but I want to be a part of something. I want to let her in. She talks with me, she shares with me. We’re not looking to fix or solve, just listening and sharing and I feel like I know her better, and that I feel more connected. I’ve let her see pieces of me from my own lips and she’s not bolted from the room. 

Finally it’s time for her to lay down and I pack my things into the truck. The sun is bright, too bright. Too cheerful. I don’t want to leave. I want to go back in there and take care of these wonderful people who have let me in. I take one more swallow of life in the air here and then dive back into my water world of silence. 

And the countdown begins to the next...