High Tide

So much for writing a fluff piece, all warm and fuzzy about a relationship that erodes my coast on every high frikkin tide.

We had words. Snip, snip, back and forth, and a little thought that floats up now and then slipped right out of my mouth. They must have caught a wave on the high tide.

“I’m done.”

Yes, I finally said it out loud. I didn’t plan it, didn’t think about it, just opened my mouth and the words came out, surprisingly without a tinge of animosity. It was like hearing myself reading the words out loud, as if reading a brief statement in a calm voice. I am done.

He said, “I’m done, too.”

I said, “Good.”

It put an end to the snip-snip back and forth before our words escalated into a full blown argument. There was nothing to argue about anyway. He wasn’t happy because I had cancelled cable television service while he was gone for a couple days. Oh well… my bill, my budget, not like he pays for anything.

“Grandma, did you break up with him?” Little Miss Z was in the back seat, ignoring her mother’s warning to stay out of grown folk’s conversations. “He’s lazy, grandma. I think you should break up with him.”

Should I take advice from a nine-year-old?

She thinks he’s lazy as he is usually in the bedroom with the door shut if he happens to be here when the kids comes over. That’s what he does on most winter days when he is here even if it is just us… he lays around watching TV between naps and playing on his phone, wanders out now and then.

Oh, sweet child… not yet.

That Paint Thing

I went to “that paint thing” Friday night at the SOAP Gallery in downtown Youngstown and the vet called, texted, and messaged via Facebook a combined total of NINE times. I heard the third call, ignored the voicemail, and went outside to call him back… he just wanted to make sure that I got there okay.

Holy crap… he watched me walk down the street and board the bus, after insisting I stepped outside to feel the wind before heading out (the jacket I choose might not be warm enough) AND blow dry my hair so I wouldn’t catch pneumonia. He also knew that I would get off the bus on the corner near the gallery, just a half block walk away, while it is still daylight, on a familiar street that I’ve walked hundreds, if not a thousand times. I used to live downtown; even the homeless greet me with a friendly hello.

So, what gives?

I thought he was coming home early because he had a grandchild coming over. No, he just wanted to be here before I left… to see me get ready, to watch me leave, to hang out here while I was gone just so he can call or text repeatedly about how he misses me, to ask how much longer I will be?

YE GADS… I was only gone maybe 4 hours, including transportation. It started at 6, he was texting “are you done” at a quarter till 9… I called my taxi home at 8:51 PM.

I had started painting a pretty picture… dark brown all around the sides of a wrapped canvas coming over the edge on top first (so it could dry) with a nice cloudy sky with just a hint of blue, just painting pretty little landscape in the opening… when I caught myself thinking “put a happy tree over there” it was like what the hell… I’m not Bob Ross. Bump that, paint what you feel. My mood had shifted enough to take burnt umber over the whole damn thing, right into the wet paint, wishing like hell for heavy beat driven tunes and a tube of Mars Black.

Clock ticking, paint something… what do I feel? Interrupted. I feel red. I need my orbs. Are you done? Err. Yeah, I’m done… snapped this photo when I laid it on the table designated for wet paintings.

I look at this photo now and think, “oh, that’s not done” so I will finish it AFTER it hangs in the gallery for a month… that sounds so backwards, I have to laugh. Oh yeah, hang your work BEFORE it’s done, then finish it after it has been on display for public viewing and documented as part of a community project.

 

Ironically, the vet announced it was football day before he left ye noon on Saturday to go watch the games… where or with whom, I don’t know. He didn’t say and the only question I asked was, “Does this mean I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Sure enough, I woke up alone on Sunday morning, 5th week in a row, and he didn’t care enough to call me even once. 

Did I call him? NO… maybe I should start doing that, call or text at least once every twenty minutes asking stupid questions… Did you get there okay? Are you watching the college games? Is Youngstown playing? Did they win yet? What are you doing? Having fun? How much longer? Is it overtime? What’s the score? Who’s playing next? Is your team playing tonight? Are they done yet?

Nah… I can’t do that… I just need to find more things for ME to do, and learn how to turn off my phone.

Thanks for reading!