he went to the frig and from
among a selection of craft beers he bought for their reunionitd been eight
weeks since they spent a day and a night together he took a Narwhal from the
shelf
he bought it especially for her
it was one of her favorites
he took the bottle outdoors and as he stood on the porch sipping it
watching the sun beginning to set gently blushing the skys cheek unexpectedly she calledshe hadnt seen fit to call in the
past two days
he figured hed give her
plenty of rope(maybe to hang herself)
he wasnt terribly kind
he was a matter-of-fact
he was a matter-of-fact
she didnt take well to him
reminding her that eight weeks had passed(she wasnt counting she said -- Then
maybe it isnt as important to you he replied) or that the eight weeks equaled
their prior separation which had just preceded it
when they finally hung up she
said I love you
he didnt get to tell her because
the line went dead before he couldhe wanted to tell her that her I love you had
been a sling it had become a bandage and fearfully now it was transforming into an awkward tourniquet
he wasnt being hyperbolic
he tried to impress upon her in their
conversation that it was critical to the health of their relationship that they
schedule time for themselvestheir
relationship shouldnt be constantly and consistently slipped onto a back-burner
for her family her peculiarly dramatic needy family
she tersely reminded him that she
hadnt been feeling well Ive been to the
ER . .
. . And
Ive taken you to the ER every time prior to now since we met eight years agoyou
cant seem to wrap your head around that your ER visits are contingent on the
stress you seem unwilling to let go of of a mother who in raw terms has told you if
you diedif you died she couldnt care less That cow she dare calls
herself a mother Giving birth doesnt entitle one to call themselves motherAnd
she did shit for her mother when her mother who did care and raise her needed
help And Im welcome to my say because Im a parentI raised two daughtersI know
what a parent is . . . .
. . . . the line stood dead between
them for almost a minute . . . .
in a hushed voice he said into
the receiver If we dont nourish ourselves treat ourselves with respect our
relationship can slip away Tables
are tilted our settings are slipping . .
.
. she said they werent
Im trying to help you visualise Our relationship has lost its primacy Though evidently not in your eyes If you dont
care for something anything a plant anything which needs tending
It dies
It dies
Here at our home I tend to our
plants and animals You assumed I would I
assumed you would care for us despite being away
You refuse to admit youre
overwhelmed you think you have it by the hornsYou dont Its gores you to your very being every day
And every night you try to resuscitate your strength and every night it grows
more and more weak less resilient It
hangs by its fingers
The suns setting babe
We used to watch it every dayI
know realistically that things would changeit was inevitable I didnt see you throwing it over for someone who
blatantly disrespects you could care less for you Your mothers a selfish bitch
I try and catch the sun set every day for
us Im optimisticprobably dense but thats who I am Stab optimism in the heart spike it through
its brain it reels stubbornly it can die
but the line went dead
he was trying to revive it
it seemed she didnt know it was bleeding and trying to staunch it by himself
he was struggling
it was probably a good thing he
struggled
he could relate
it wasnt new
he just thought he might have
gotten past it from before and before wasnt a place he wanted to be again
death isnt easy to recover from
1638, Sunday,
4 12. 16
