Front Loaders

I don't feel like writing writing. However I DO feel like posting. Funny how that can work. Why, you say? Why post when I have nothing to post?  Cause our friend Who Wants to Dust Anyway can no longer read blogs during the week. *group groan* I'm also considering messaging her my blog m-f. A courtesy for long time readers. I might even add things in parenthesis to amuse her. Like this:  (FU boss who turns off blogs!) The only thing stopping me is my laziness and self-centered holedness and spending all my free time making up words.

Plus I'm trying to snap out of my mood, another good reason to post. Of course that means shove it down deep waaaaaay deep so that I can continue my duties as Ms.  OH OHOH! Almost wrote my name there. ALMOST. So let's get this random on the road before I start making textual sketches of my face. I was thinking I might tell you all the reasons you might not want to be The Man. Or live with me. Or whatever.

Just cause today I went on a rant about how obnoxious front-loaders are and how the entire world is insane for liking them (seriously I've never dropped so many clean wet clothes on the floor in my life) and The Man said "Oh NOW you say something about the new washer and dryer - I've been waiting weeks for you to say something ANYTHING about the new washer and dryer and of course when you finally do it's a complaint" actually I don't think he used that many words.. That would be out of character but trust me, he meant all of them.

"All I'm trying to say is that contractors or SOMEBODY should start building a fucking shelf to put these on because it's a JOKE that they're selling the shelves separately. These are built for gnomes! GNOMES!"

"Well, I thought you wanted the front loaders so I got you the front loaders and this is the first thing you say about it"

So I said "OOOOOHHH! The washer and dryer are a gift for me! Oh thank you thank you thank you thank you I'm just so fucking bowled over with your generosity in purchasing two new appliances so that I might better serve you!"

And he said "well you could have said something."

"I did say something. I'm positive I said something. I probably said wow, look at that you went and bought a new washer and dryer, look how shiny they are. Or something. But clearly I didn't say enough. I had no idea you cared about the stupid washer and dryer. Why would I think they were a personal gift?"

"I don't care about the washer and dryer!"

"Oh come on now… you do care…" I started to caress the new machines. "OH! Oh wow, that is nice! My gawd, this is the best damn washer I've ever humped in my life!"

yah. I humped it. Don't worry - it was easy, it's a front loader.

And cut scene. So it got me thinking. I might not be as fabulous to be around as I thought! I might be a raving lunatic who doesn't even act suitably impressed when people bring home shiny brand new appliances.  And also, that's pretty fucking funny that he puts up with me anyway!!!

So0o0o0o0.….

(in no particular order because when it comes to evil there really is no lesser)

*oh… well would you look at that … we're out of room.

Beside Myself

There are moments when the only thing drawing my next breath in is the sweet smell that comes off the top of my childrens heads. Moments when I could weep for all the sucking in and pushing out of life they will have to go through. Moments when it doesn't seem worth it. Doesn't seem there's any reason for any of us to continue this farce. When any small bit of joy or beauty or love that we manage to scavenge for is a dirty rotten joke. Moments when it occurs to me that it might not be that people have a higher power to celebrate or pray to, that it might be that we need a higher power so that there is someone to shout and scream at for the aching empty hole we're in. Someone besides ourselves.

Because that's where I am. Beside myself. Trying to escape You.  And me without You. And everything.

Dealbreaker

We're crammed over on the edge of the bed, bodies twisted up in the semblance of spoons and managing to grind into one another all the better for it. Since when did the biggest bed in the universe feel so small?

"Shh!" I whisper loudly. He groans again and pulls my softness hard against him. Our desire has been a thickening of moisture in the air over the last week, building until there's nothing but dark clouds hovering around our heads, spreading to a funk we can't shake out of alone.

"Come here" he asks me, though our bodies are flush with one another. He wants me to turn around, knows it would be the raindrop that proceeds a downpour.

"We can't!" I say as I roll over to face him anyway, grinning.

"Mmm just kiss me" he says with his lips already on mine, and I do. I use my mouth to make sure he's as frustrated as I am, drawing him out of himself with the slippery sliding magic of swirling tongue.

We're daring one another now, pushing one another to see how far we're willing to take this. All of our movements and sounds have to be tiny, have to escape notice and the secretive nature of it amplifies every nuance of our arousal.

 His teeth nibble at my neck and seem to eclipse the sun, leaving a bright round orb of blinding light as a guiding point toward relief. He slides my shirt up over my head, his hand already down my shorts, finding me wet and eager and I run my fingers through his hair, pulling his face back toward mine for a deep promising  kiss. There's a pressure on my back, a poking.

"Mama?" a garbled sleepy voice intrudes. It's chubby fingers prodding at my back! "What doing Mama?"

The Man slumps over me with a  giant growling sigh. "Ssshhh, baby." I whisper to both of them.

"Roar!" Little Man seems to have decided we must be wrestling and following his war cry he leaps on both of us.

"Well, that's a deal breaker." I tell The Man wryly. "Want me to wake you up when he falls back asleep? We could go out in the living room or something…" We're both pulling on clothes to protect our tender bits from Little Man's wild wrestling antics.

"Nooooo" The Man is cranky now. "That's okay."

"It's not like I'm just doing you a favor." I point out but he's already rolled over to face the outside of the bed and I'm pinned down on my side with Little Man on top of me sucking his thumb noisily.

From Never to Maybe to Never

Going from never to maybe is a thousand heartbeats pounding, mouth open and eager, a fluttery swoosh of air taken in and swelling your insides, the thrill of it intoxicating your senses.

When maybe turns back into never you don't notice it at first. How could that next breath not arrive? You hold still. And then the panic. You thrash and pound against the injustice. Extra blood pours out from your heart, rushing to your brain to sooth with any last bit left in you.

And when it's gone...

it's just waiting... waiting for a kiss to breathe life back in.

Two Minutes

So I had a tough weekend. Partied hard. Little Man turned two on Saturday, complete with a fabulous birthday party where he wowed the guests with his manners, sharing ability and adorability. Then that evening I went out… ALL out and that pretty much never happens. The Man worked on Sunday because of the cable guy fiasco on Friday and we were all pretty much wrung out and cranky full. Of course by Sunday evening Little Man had, had his first time-out.

He was hitting and shoving his big sis. I asked him to stop, I attempted to redirect his attention, I called him by all three names. He just laughed at me. I had no choice people!!! So I gave him the warning "Little Man, you need to stop hitting your sister or I will put you in a time-out" He looked me right in the eyes, and his giant sparkly brown orbs twinkled at me, you know, the sign of the devil, and he turned back to his sister. THWACK, THWACK, THWACK. Got her with the ole windmill action.

I scooped him up and carried him over by the microwave, setting him down in the corner where the refrigerator meets the door to the garage, and set the timer for two minutes as I spoke to him. "You are having a time-out." The fact that our garbage pail sits there is coincidence and not intended as part of the punishment even if it does make it more effective both realistically and metaphorically.

"Why?" he asked, eyes huge. He's seen big sister get a time-out before. Actually, he's tried to bust Big Sis out of our little slammer twice, by pulling her by her arms, dragging her across the kitchen floor.

"For hitting." I told him sternly. Big Sis had followed us to the kitchen to see this, his first real punishment other than having the occasional toy put out of reach on the fridge for whacking people with it. To her credit, she tried hard to hold her glee in but the corner of her mouth was twitching crazily, her eyes glowed with the wonder of it all and she shuffled back n' forth on her feet like a house just landed on a witch in Little People Town. The Man admonished her to stay back and "let him have his time-out privacy" which nearly busted me up laughing. I guess The man figures time-out is like pooping. It must be the garbage can odor that has him confused.

Little Man tried to bolt three times. Each time I had to scoop him up and put him back in the corner with the reminder "You are in time-out." On the third time I didn't say anything, none of us would look at him and as the hubbub of dinner prep continued on without him the salty seriousness of his situation rose up in him, spilling out onto his cheeks.

"Mama?" he questioned, and his little voice trembled. "Mama, why?" he asked and still I wouldn't turn around. Then, finally he said "Daddy?" and when The Man continued tending to the food on the stove top Little Man dissolved into pitiful, heartbroken tears. I could hardly take it. It was a long two minutes.

Finally the microwave timer went off with it's cheerful 'let's eat popcorn sounds' and I lifted Little Man into my arms to explain again. "You had a time-out for hitting your sister."

"Yes." he agreed

"No more hitting, okay?"

"Yes." he snuggled into my neck with his arms tightening around me for a bear hug. Big Sister was not impressed with the punishment.

"How long was he in there?" she demanded

"Two minutes." I told her and dared her with my eyes to question it. We give time-outs based on the age of the kid around here, not the severity of the crime. About half an hour later he started kicking.

"Little Man, no kicking!" I told him.

"Time-out?" he asked me wonderingly.

"That's right." I told him. "If you kick people you will have a time-out."

And so a new era has been ushered in.

*sigh*

On the Night Before you Were Born

Little Man,

On the night before you were born, the last night you lay cradled inside me, I couldn't sleep.

Not just because you have a habit, when you're sleeping, of pressing your head into any resistance you can find which tended to be my pelvis at the time.

Not just because I was nervous about the surgery scheduled at 8:30 am the next morning. The one where they would slice me open and pull your slimy brand new self right out of my womb.

Not just because I was so very excited to meet you, my first son, my last baby, the one I was ready for.

On the night before you were born I couldn't sleep because I was hungry.

I had never, enjoyed a giant hamburger with all the fixings the way I did when you were in me. Oh the dinners I made with you stretching and kicking at my belly. Always with meat, and fats, and dessert. The degrees of starvation I felt throughout the day, I had to snack between snacks!. And still, we were never without hunger.

When they told me I would have to fast before the scheduled c-section I didn't think much of it. The surgery was scheduled in the am, surely it wouldn't be a big deal not to eat while I was sleeping. I had, of course, under-estimated you. You see, it wasn't my hunger that had been rolling in my stomach for nine months, grinding my very bones away, sapping every bit of iron and vitamin stores out of me until I was exhausted, brain dead and anemic. It was yours.

I want you to know that. I want you to know you were born hungry, that when I was in the "recovery room" pushing buttons to raise my bed and slurring out threats to the nurses' health if they didn't bring you to me at once, they had to give you sugar water. I was so angry when they told me! My baby shouldn't be having sugar, he needs breast milk! "BRING ME MY BABY!" I demanded, over and over.  And when they finally determined that I was not going to "lie back and rest" without you, when they brought you to me, and I put you to my breast I knew then that you would always be hungry and that for as long as you needed me to I would help you fill up with all the best life has to offer us.

Tonight, two years later I'm hearing your little voice in my mind, remembering what you say the most: "I hunny, Mama!" and I love you for it. You are hungry. For good food, for good times, for pleasant company, you enjoy life running full force all day and all night long. And when things get real tough, when dinner is still cooking and your cries of "I EAT!" over-whelm me, when your hunger begins to invade my borders and I can still feel the way I felt that night, the night before you were born when your hunger was my own. I sometimes give you some sugar.

Love,

Mom

Ladies Underpants

"Hey Bigd" I called her at about ten pm.

"Hey." she sounded distracted.

"What should I blog about?" I was afraid I was hitting another writer's block.

"I don't know." it was her usual response.

"What are you watching?" I could hear a program in the background behind her raucous laughter.

"there's this guy bothering Bikini Baristas," she was sputtering and guffawing about it.

"What/" I wondered what the heck a barista was.. Something to do with coffee.

"……..he came through the drive-thru wearing ladies underpants."

What!?" I could tell this might be really funny and I better figure out what she was talking about fast or the punch line would be lost on me.

"They threw boiling water on him."

"Why? What!?" I was starting to think I might have to go turn the tv on to get any answers.

"because he kept coming back."

"Wait. I don't get it. Bikini ladies? Where are they in the bikinis?"

"There's a couple places, I know one's in Salem, where it's a little coffee drive-thru shack and they serve the coffee in bikinis"

"Oh. Yuck."

"Yeah."  "So this guy kept driving thru wearing ladies underpants."

"They threw boiling water on him?"

"Yeah."

"That's awful"

He kept coming back! And they tried to get his license plate but they couldn't because it had ladies underpants on it."

"Ahahahahahahhahahahaha!" this was important news and highly humorous. "So now it's on the news? We're supposed to keep an eye out for a man in ladies underpants? And we'll know it's him because he'll have ladies underpants on his license plates?" I was on a roll now laughing and talking fast. "I can totally see us being annoyed that they're serving coffee in their bikinis and sending The Man up there in ladies  underpants. And we'd say 'what about the license plates? Oh! Just cover them in more ladies underpants!"

"Ahahahahahahahahah!" she  laughed

"How did he pay for his coffee?" I continued loudly "with ladies underpants! Soon the news will have an update: crazy ladies underpants man has been spotted at a local bar… they tried to card him but his ID was wrapped………………… in ladies underpants!"

"Dew(ed) stop saying ladies underpants!"

"I can't it's too funny."

"Well. There's your blog."

"Do you think it's funny to anyone else?"

"Yes it's funny. It's ladies underpants."

"You're right."

"Post it for sbt."

"YES! It's perfect, very dark indeed." I agreed.




Lucky you guys, I googled and it gets better! I copied and pasted this from here


"Wash. -- A man dressed in woman's underwear and exposing himself drove up to a Parkland espresso stand three times before one of the baristas threw a cup of boiling water at him, said the Pierce County Sheriff's Office.

Jamae Feddock, a bikini clad barista at Java Girls, said she first thought the man dressed in women's underwear and exposing himself was a sick joke, until the man came back several times.The first time he came to the window Feddock said he was wearing a white bra and white panties and touching himself inappropriately.

Then he came back a second time.

"He has underwear over his face, he's wearing hot pink panties now and the underwear that he was wearing is over his face and there's a little peephole so he can see," Feddock said.

Feddock and another barista were working around 5 a.m. last Thursday when the incident happened. They tried to get a look at the man's license plate, but that too was covered up with women's underwear.

When the man came back a third time one of the baristas took a cup of scolding hot water and doused him with it.

"Kylie opened the door and threw boiling hot water on his face and his chest and he said oooh yeah," Feddock said.

Police agencies around Pierce County said they are seeing more and more incidents of indecent exposure -- as more coffee stands open -- many with women dressed provocatively -- or barely dressed at all.

"I don't think we can make a quid pro quo there that this is causing the effect, and they certainly don't deserve that behavior, but we do have some of these stands that have been victimized by these activities," said Det. Sgt. Jerry Bates a Pierce County Sheriff's Deputy.

Anyone with information should call the Pierce County Sheriff's Office."

Just Don't Stop at the Top

I can ride any amusement park death trap. Really! From the ground I even LOVE to. It matters not who's running it; a pimply teenager, or a toothless, grizzly old woman. They can spin me, they can jerk me up and down and around again, even take me completely upside down in a series of loopittyloops. Standing up, sitting down, feet dangling, I will take almost anything. I will handle it.

Just as long as they don't stop at the top.

There's isn't anything more terrifying to me than the creaking of metal on metal when a Ferris wheel stops at the top of the world and your companion delightedly kicks their feet, pointing out the sights in the distance. Nothing more terrifying for me, anyway. For the person seated next to me, thinking they're on a child friendly pleasure ride, I'm the most terrifying thing in the world.

I'll sit there, cranky, in a cold sweat, paranoid, and alternating between frozen, white lipped silence and involuntary rocking or twitching or trembling of one kind or another. I will grip whatever sort of oh shit bar is provided as if I am single-handedly saving us from falling. Of course while I say cranky they might describe it more as demon inspired fury. Not at first but after I hiss "Don't fucking move!" they'll be hoping they remembered to bring along holy water for sure.

I have to move through fear. I can't sit still waiting. I'm impatient and lash out at anyone not taking my fear seriously. I need to do things, to improve the situation, to feel I'm directing my own fate in some way, or if nothing else, to distract myself.

On one of our early dates The Man took me to the Rose Festival. It was yet another case of miss-aligned expectations between us. Over the phone I had admitted I "wasn't much of a ride person" but "enjoyed amusement parks anyway". He agreed, said he felt the same way. Turned out he meant he only rides two or three of the biggest scariest rides and I meant I can eat six bags of cotton candy in thirty seconds. We had to compromise, and chose an umbrella version of a Ferris Wheel first thing. I'm a big fan of mind over matter, I spent most of our wait time, in the line, psyching myself up for it. This technique isn't for amateurs, I've fine-tuned my ability to maintain under extreme conditions since childhood. You're going to need denial, false bravado, and possibly a spare change of underwear.

As usual I was fine right up until we got to the top. My version of fine is me with my head down looking at my feet not moving a muscle, completely absorbed in internally convincing myself I'm not about to die. Or if I am about to plummet there's some chance I might be able to grab a bar or something if I pay attention closely enough. It's extremely absorbing, to pay attention so closely. Ears fine-tuned for any hint of a loose screw, eyes darting between anything solid and right next to me to the carnie with our fate in his greasy hands. Anything anyone says comes to my ears through a thick fog, filtering any information not life or death out.

"Dew(ed)!" his voice was excited "what are you doing? Look up! Are your eyes closed? Look how far you can see!" This got in. keeping my eyes nearly shut and not pointed toward the horizon was life or death.

"No. It's cool. I'm fine." he was bending over, trying to see my face "Hey, maybe you could not move so much." I said awkwardly, turning my face away.

"What, like this?" He rocked his body back and forth causing the basket-like contraption we were in to sway almost imperceptibly. It was like elephants were turning over in a waterbed.

"STOP!" my voice was shrill and loud so I quickly lowered it "Don't… don't do that, okay?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm fucking serious!" and we were right back to shrill!

"Okay." he agreed, reluctantly. I sensed he was still considering curing me of my fear by scaring me more.

"Please, Man. Don't move, okay? Just don't move."

"Do you want me to make them let us off?"

"No! I want you to have fun!" I demanded, but of course he couldn't.

"Can I at least hold your hand?"

"Do you have to?"

"No. But I want to."

"D you want to because you think I want you to or because you want to for you?" I would totally have held his hand if HE needed me to.

"What?"

"Cause I don't want to!" quickly I added "I'm sorta holding on here, Man." I nodded my head toward my hands gripping the seat and he laughed inside, in that way he has.

"It's almost done." he assured me, his arms were thrown wide and he had his head thrown back in relaxation. I gave up my statue pose again to give him a brief nod.

Finally we stepped off the ride onto solid ground. I quickly pulled out a pack of cigarettes and hot boxed the lucky red in about thirty seconds. "So. What next?" I asked him, grinning, though my forehead takes a long time to chill out.

"Are you kidding?"

"No. I know you want to go on something else." I inhaled and exhaled while he stared at me, amazed. "So, what's it gonna be?"

"You're nuts." he shook his head at me. "Why would you do that if you're so scared of rides?"

"I'm not scared of rides!" I stomped my foot in mock anger. "What if I getcha a hot, brave ride partner?" he laughed out loud.

"You think I'm joking? It's easy. Let's go."

See, that? That's a pro-move, getting an understudy to carry on for you. We were already streaming in with the crowd and I had to shout at his back "Hey, Man! First we need cotton candy!"

"What, as bait?" he joked

"Oh. I guess so. But I'm not really going to share it." I sighed, knowing I would share it. "We should get the giant bag"

Untitled part eleven

Lying flat on my back I stared at the ceiling. His body rested between my legs, his head hovering over my naval. There seemed to be a slight bump down low now, below the place my body hollowed out when I was on my back. I thought it might be my imagination, and tried to picture the life growing in there. With my eyes closed I always saw a universe bursting out, expanding and contracting with every pulse of my heart.

 He was kissing my stomach, telling me the way everything could be, how beautiful this child would be - a combination of the two of us. "We could be so happy, Dew(ed). We'll get a house, have a couple kids. I know you're scared. I can do this. I've done it before." His mouth moved lower and if he knew I was crying, hot tears that burned all the way to my ears he chose not to acknowledge them, wanting to celebrate the life created between us. It isn't as though I couldn't have said no. It's more that it would have required more effort than simply flipping him over and finishing him off so he could pass out.

A fog had lifted, it was replaced by a strange new sensation, probably equally as slanted. All his lies, the drug use, the anger management issues, seemed ridiculous. He wasn't an adult with an interesting history who was now in recovery. He was a thirty-one year old convict drug addict with three kids he didn't take care of. It's one thing to sleep around with crazy people, it's another to raise babies with them. Especially a baby I wasn't  even ready to have myself, didn't even know if I WOULD have. I made plans to move out, asking Crispy and Amigo for boxes and slowly transferring most of my stuff to my Mom's. Then I just gathered up the rest one afternoon and moved out.

Communication between us was scattered and rare. He was staying with a friend but rarely actually there. I heard bits and pieces through Amigo who actually spoke to him more often. First that he was spending most of his time at Tweakers, then contact ceased for a few weeks. Next I heard he was in jail for parole violations, they picked him up at Tweakers after a brief struggle. Then he was waiting for sentencing. Never had the entire story but near as I ever picked out from second hand stories and  reading the records at the courthouse he stole a car and was stopped at the border to Canada with a joint in the glove box.

He found ways to contact me anyway. A steady stream of "love" letters from jail began to arrive. Then the three-way phone calls. Amigo would call and tell me he was on the line.  He would scream at me that I better not even be considering abortion, that he would raise the baby himself if he had to, I would end up bawling and hang up on him.

I spent long days in my moms tiny apartment trying to sort out where I ended and this other life began.

The life I had before.

The life I had right then.

The life I had growing in me.

The life I had wanted for my future.

The life I couldn't give my baby.

There were long bus rides to government offices getting health care coverage, to clinics with blood stained floors with my feet in stirrups facing the awkward shame of getting the early check-ups from doctors who had seen enough to make their judgment and too much to feel anything anymore, and the dark day I scheduled the abortion.

Lying flat on my back I stared at the ceiling. My legs were wide apart, feet resting in the stir-ups, waiting for the doctor to come in and insert the reeds that would swell, opening my cervix over the next hours and the bump on my lower abdomen was unmistakable to me. "It won't be the life I thought I would give you." I told her. "There won't be a house and there won't be a Dad. And I'm scared." And I knew it didn't matter. I knew there would never be a good time to have her. I knew I was already calling her she. I knew I had no choice. What was before would never be again with or without her. I wasn't going to be the Mom I had hoped to be. Nothing was going to be anything like I had ever dreamed. I knew I could do it anyway.

I was up and off the table, flinging the paper blanket out of my way in a flurry of crinkles. I shoved my already swelling self back in my beat-up levis. I pulled my t-shirt with the silly saying over my softest long john shirt and shrugged my florescent vest on. I ran from the exam room, down past the lobby full of pregnant women with the receptionist yelling after me, I slipped into the elevator and rode all the way down to the lobby with cool tears sliding down my face, just making it to a restroom to puke my guts out.

Have a Look in my Box!

Oh faithful readers today is a special day. Today I join the ranks of bloggers such as Buddha Mama and Salacious Bee (and many more, I'm sure) in receiving hysterical messages from random strangers. *wipes tear* It's like I've finally made it. So, as those in the past have done before, I will do now: post the ridiculous solicitation for all of our enjoyment.

From the depths of Dew(ed)'s box:

*************************************************************
From: Tiny  

Date: Aug 18, 2008 12:26 PM

Subject: No Subject

Body: Are you up for something wild and crazy

*************************************************************

To: Tiny

Date: Aug 18, 2008 12:39 PM

Subject: RE: No Subject

Body: lol - You have my attention.

*************************************************************

From: Tiny

Date: Aug 18, 2008 12:44 PM

Subject: No Subject

Body: 

This is the deal. Im 31 a good looking guy. My wife is in prison and things are a     little absent. So Im looking ffor someone that wants to get into something wild     and quiet just for fun. if you want to get into something that would be interesting     and no commitments let me know.

*************************************************************

To: Tiny

Date: Aug 18, 2008 12:48 PM

Subject: RE: No Subject

Body:    

ahahahahahahahahahahhaahah!

oh man. and you're probably serious too.

get out. does this work for you? how often? When you saw my avatar did you     check out my profile, looking to see if I might be up for that? Is it the swinger     thing?


holy bajeezus you're a hoot.

and ummm no I'm not up for anything like that.

*sprays you down with windex*

run along now best of luck

*************************************************************
*** I changed his name. but not much. seriously.

UPDATED:

Tiny:

Why would I say it if I wasnt serious. LOL Does that mean that you are contemplating the situation.LOL I would work. Im not talking about all the time just whan its convient for both involved.


Dew:

oh I know you're serious about doing it lol I mean I can't believe you're soliciting random strangers on the internet to be your booty call. And using the old "my wifes in jail" line to boot. ahahaha seriously funny shit.


and no. not even close to contemplating it.


Tiny:

She reall is thats the truth. but I hope your bloggers get a laugh. I have no reason to lie. But at least you are entertained.

Dew:

yeah. it's a good thing I'm entertained. some people might be pissed off and insulted to be approached this way. And yes the bloggers will get a laugh. You're lucky I changed your name and didn't link to ya.

of course, you're welcome to reveal yourself on my blog if you like.

Tiny:

Well that was nice. And if I did insult you that wasnt my intentions. I was serious. I dont want any strings Im just a little horney its been awhile almost a year. And a stranger seems like the best way to keep it quiet. So if you were insulted my appoligies to you.

Dew:

dude I just told ya I'm not insulted, I don't take it personally that you're freakin' crazy.

Tiny:

Is that how you seriously take it that Im crazy. LOL Well now I know something about me that I didnt. Hell i was thinking a little different. LOL at least youi made me laugh.
Im really not that weird. I swear. I thought this might be a good place to keep something quiet now you have shown me the errors in my ways. Maybe Its best I just wait now. Im accually a reall cool guy and way down to earth. But thats besides the point. whats your name anyways? I have never been shamed like this and I think its funny but fucked up also.

Dew:

My name's Dew(ed)

I'm glad you've decided not to sleep with random strangers from the internet good for you! I'm like a super hero!

and seriously if it saves another chick from opening a message like that I deserve a medal.

get some lube. You'll be fine.

Untitled part ten

I peed on at least twelve pregnancy tests. The manufacturers sell them in two and three packs, knowing there can be false negatives before the embryo has attached itself to your uterus. I kept right on peeing on the sticks though a false positive is extremely rare. Especially when all you've been doing is fucking the most fertile man on the planet. Still, it could happen so I peed on the kind with the plus sign, the kind with the lines, in the morning for the best pee, later in the day hoping for a better answer. They all said the same thing; "life as you know it is over".  Finally I consulted Amigo.

"So. This is pretty feint, I mean that could just be a fluke, right?" I was holding out the test stick while she recoiled from the idea that my urine was on it. I glared at her for being such a pussy and finally she relented, curious herself. When I called her on the phone, asking her to come over and look at something I said that maybe I was a little late and maybe just maybe I might be a little bit possibly sort of pregnant. She bent over the stick and then looked right back up at me.

"It's totally two lines! I've never even seen such an obvious positive…. Not even when I was pregnant with JarHead!" she was giggling madly at me the way you do when something awful that happened to you finally happens to your friend.

"Yeah but… it's sorta lighter than the comparison line."

"No. No, it's not. That IS the comparison line. Your line is darker. Your line is like nine months along!"

"Shut-up!" we laughed for a minute, nervous hysterical laughter that did little to release the tension.

"What are you going to do?" she asked me, suddenly really seeing how bad the situation was.

"I don't know."

"You have to tell him" I don't know how she knew I was thinking I might not tell him, that I was already regretting telling her. Now it was real, now it had to be dealt with. Dealing was something so far from me.

"I'll tell him when I'm ready."

"You know I can't keep this in. I'll tell him. Can I tell him?"

"No! Why the fuck would you be the one to tell him. I'm probably supposed to have told him first."  We were cross-legged on the floor of my bedroom staring at the shitty apartment style carpet. "I don't really HAVE to tell him"

"Yes you do. It's his too."

"It's in me! And he could just never know. It's almost selfish to tell him if I'm not going to…to do it anyway."

"If you don't tell him, I will." So that's how it was going to be. "What do you think he'll say?"

"I don't know."

"You're having a baby! Can you believe it??"

"I don't know."

"I wanna be here when you tell him"

"I think it's kinda private."

"Just go tell him now, he's out working on Tweaker's car."

"What do you suppose he's doing that for? Out of neighborly kindness?" I stood up. There was no sense in dragging this out. I went out in the parking lot and waited til he came over to me, wiping his hands on an oil rag. "Hey. Whatcha doing?" I asked him, trying to figure out how to break this kind of news.

"Working on a project." he said, a little pissed I was "checking in on him"

"Well. Me too." he tilted his head. "I'm pregnant." he nodded a little.

"We'll talk about it later. I'm busy."

"Okay then." I made my way back in the apartment.

"What did he say????" she asked excitedly.

"He said we'll talk about it later."

"Oh." there was a long pause while all the yippy excitement fizzled out of her. "That's kinda weird."

"Yeah. Well. Everything's been weird for a long time now."

"You've only known him for like three months."

"To be fair, sperm travels at speeds of twenty-eight miles per hour. You know I don't run, so even at a swift walk," she laughed, grateful I was being funny to distract her from the awkwardness. "my poor egg never had a chance."

Untitled part nine

I could tell you all the reasons I went ahead with the inevitable. I could tell you about my parents alternately calling me with their break-up woes, stretching my compassion out between them. I could tell you that I was lonely, isolated and had no one else in the world. I could tell you I lost my job and The Troll and the Roommate moved out and that there were no one bedroom apartments available in the complex and that while the landlord was compassionate about my situation she was holding me to the lease agreement. I could tell you how worried I was about being homeless again. I could tell you how I wasn't in me anymore, how I was the flaky dried up bits left when a flower dies, a puff of air so easily crumbling me into a fine gray powder. I could tell you I wanted it to be worse. I could tell you nothing happening was yet bad enough to match the way I felt inside, I could tell you I tempted the flames closer, wanting to burn to nothing, to be nothing, to feel nothing if it wasn't You.

I could tell you all that. But usually, when people ask, (and they do ask) what on earth I was thinking to sleep with him I just say: "He rubbed my feet". Because he did. He rubbed my feet and then started up my calves. He said "friends do this", and "Let me make love to you." and he did and he was decent at it. And once I had done it there wasn't any reason not to keep doing it. And then he said "I want to marry you and have babies" and "this is all I've ever wanted" and "I love you" and it seemed that I must be an idiot not to feel it, to be nothing and ungrateful for this gift. But I was. I refused to call him my boyfriend, shoved his hand off my thigh on a bus, and told him to his face that he would never really have me. He laughed and said I would get over it, that I would grow up.

By day reasons for how wrong it all was kept right on popping up. His drinking, the age difference, the messages on the machine from his parole officer, the nights he disappeared next door, bizarre flares of temper that were somehow always my fault, his possessive nature. I continued to push him away denying what everyone around us knew. Then the sun would go down and my body would betray me, unfold under me, rebelling against my heart and common sense. I started to believe him. The world closed in and was only as big as that apartment. The walls were streaked with his opinions, the blinds that had once let in rays of light were shut, the cupboards bare of anything. I shuffled around in a daze, silent and broken.

Meanwhile Crispy and Amigo were still around, but they were "our" friends now. Amigo was always in the middle of any fighting, pestering me, cajoling me, feeding off every bit of drama. She and The Sandwich were very much buddy-buddy, always on the phone, or at the apartment, or begging him to come get her, to entertain her. In a rare bit of honesty she confided she hated being married, thought she was too young to have a family and all the responsibility that came with it. "How can you say that? You mooned over Crispy all through high school he's a great guy, you have a baby together." I asked her and she shrugged, not knowing herself. Crispy was his usual self and brought groceries over to the apartment, mortifying me for all eternity.

Thanksgiving came, my niece was born and Christmas passed with a few awkward family gatherings in my parents separate places. New Years came and I turned twenty. The Sandwich disappeared for a few hours and returned with a basket of items suspiciously pocket-size. I didn't say a word. He was pissed I wasn't saying thank you and gushing over it, saying "it's impossible to give you anything" and the same old fight about how stiff and unemotional I was began again. His behavior was increasingly erratic. The crazier he was the less anything I was, I became the wall he bounced off of, the floor he stomped on, the empty room he needed to come back to. And he hated it. He screamed at me to "be the person he saw flashes of when he met me" but I couldn't find her, or didn't want to, or she was gone.

I remember the night that we made her. I remember realizing he didn't know any more than I did, that his gut wasn't any more fine tuned just because he had experienced more people. Suddenly all the vibes and doubts and thoughts I had had all along became concrete in a way that made me know I was reading him at least as well as he could read me. I met him moment to moment, anticipating his turns and making him wait, making sure I made him come when I wanted him to. Our bodies communed and, I took something back then. I knew I would never escape him. That I had foolishly let myself be chosen again and again would have to give something irreplaceable up in exchange for my escape.

Untitled part eight

He came in the apartment, hanging his coat up in the closet and when he stepped into the living room to find me on the couch he threw his arms to the side in a "tah-dah!" sort of way to make me laugh. And it's true, dorkiness does it for me every time.

"You watchin' tv?" he asked and grinned at me, gesturing to the cardboard box made to look like a tv that Amigo had made when Roommate had moved her television into her bedroom a few weeks prior. "Is The Simpon's still on?" he asked and nodded when he saw the child-like drawing of Homer choking Bart.

I gave him a quit trying to cheer me up face and went back to my journal. "You could talk to me." he tapped the underside of the book  making my sentence jump in the middle. "You hungry? I'll take you across the street to Hoppers for dinner, my treat"

"I'm not twenty-one." I pointed out sourly the day had been crappy and I was all out of nice.

"It's cool. They know me, they won't care."

"No way."

"I'm serious. You won't get in trouble."

"So. I would know."

"Your head really works like that?"

"Like what?"

"Orderly. Straight and narrow. Even with the Roommate. You're just logical about it. No feelings in there?"

"I don't think I get what you're trying to say."

"Wanna go for a walk and get smokes and Dew at the Plaid Panty?"

"Well. I guess so."

We walked up to the corner and found charles at the counter as usual.

"Hi dewww." he said to me, all smiles.

"Hi Charles."

"Where's your partner in crime lately?" he asked, curious.

"Oh I don't know. Can I get a pack of reds with this?"

"Yup. You having hot chocolate tonight?"

"Nope."

"So. When are you going to let me give you that guitar lesson, Dew?"

"Oh I don't know about that. I told ya I've tried, my fingers don't want to do strings." I took my change and wandered out front to wait for him.

"You're not going to let him give you guitar lessons are you?" he asked as soon as we started to walk.

"I don't know." I said. It didn't seem like it was any of his business.

"Well. I know you're not stupid."

"huh?"

"So I can't figure out how you don't seem to know what's going on."

"Well. Ya got me there. I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"Is he charging you for a lesson?"

"No. I think he just wants a reason to hang out."

"Right. Hang out."  A silence stretched out between us awkwardly. "Wanna hear something funny?"

"Sure. I guess so." I said, relieved to be distracted from the uncomfortable on edge feeling I always had around him.

"When I was getting my money out I dropped a bud out on the counter. I didn't even know it was in there."

"Are you insane? You carry loose marijuana in your wallet?"  he laughed at my shock.

"So. Wanna smoke it?" he asked. The temptation was enormous. The thought that I might be able to relax, might be able to stop thinking, might be able to let go loomed. I stared at him next to me for awhile, deciding, ending with the thought; What's the worst that could happen? And why shouldn't I be like everyone else and stop thinking about everything so much all the time.

"Sure. If that's the only way to get rid of it, we better." We were in the entry way to the apartment, finishing our cigarettes when my gay meth-head neighbor heard us and came out, eager to chat. We both rolled our eyes and made it clear we were about to go inside. Meth-head said he might come over in awhile, he had something to tell us and we nodded and figured he would forget and end up sweeping the parking lot again.

Shortly later I was high as a kite and lying on the carpet on the living room floor laughing my ass off at some crazy story meth-head was telling. I vaguely remember something about him getting caught dumpster diving and something about gay porn. Then Meth-head bolted, his boyfriend was going to be home from work any minute and would be pissed that he wasn't cleaning his apartment.

He was sitting on the couch smiling at me lying on the floor. "Look at you. You're relaxed." he said. "and you have my favorite thing in the world."

"What's that?" I asked him suspiciously.

"Pistol grip hip bones."

"I've never heard that before." I rolled up until I was sitting and leaned against the wall.

"I don't' believe that."

"I mean I've never heard it called that." I stared at him awhile and decided to just ask him.

"What were you in for?" he didn't pretend not to know what I was asking.

"I robbed a bank."

"You did not."

"Yup."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." He stared at me some more and I pretended to examine the hole in my jeans. "Dew(ed)?"

"Yeah."

"You should go to bed before I put the move on you." I looked up, startled. He was dead serious and I laughed at him.

"So? So what if you do? That doesn't mean anything will happen." I said

"Well. That may be but" he was absurdly confident and I could tell he thought something would happen "I'd rather it didn't happen while you're stoned."

"Then couldn't you just NOT put the move on me? Didn't we say we're just friends?"

"Well. I'm tired."

"Why didn't you just say so?" I tossed him his pillow and blanket. "Good night, Sandwich."

"Good night Dew(ed)"

Take It

Thoughts from the road…

I love flooring my gas peddle, the sounds and vibrations of the engine are fantastic. That needle goes all the way to 140 or something… but we never get to go that fast! What a tease…

NO! I'm not thinking about you. I know you're wondering if I am, if I was. Well. I'm not. Not at all. This doesn't count. This is ANTI-thinking. And I'm done with that too. Right now.

damn….I wonder if anyone really wants me to keep writing that stupid story when I get back. I think I lost the groove. Why did I even start that? I hate that story. Oh well, I'm sure they've forgotten by now. I bet nobody will even notice if I don't. yeah right. Well. We'll see tonight when the kids are in bed... maybe I can just get back in it.

I do have other things to think about besides you. Thinking about it doesn't help anyway. ……. Nothing can fix it. So thinking about it would be stupid. I wonder what you would think about that. Stooop it! Get out of my head!

BigD better not think she's going to fall asleep. Wake up! I'm already drowsy… why is there a blanket on my lap? Oh. That's the sun.. damn it I'm trapped with the sun on my lap! Must drive faster.

I wonder if The Man's watered anything. Shit. I wonder what's dead. Should have called to remind him. Fuck that! He should just see that it needs watering and do it. He'll say he was "woooorking" like he can only have one task a day. One task! Good gawd if only we could just have one task.

When did I talk to The Man? Yesterday? The day before? Wow. Probably should have called him to say we were coming back today. Oh well. We'll surprise him.

The girls area getting sassy… I wonder if I care. I mean.. I like sassy. Still… they shouldn't be sassing Mama Dew. I'm the boss. *snort* I'm the boss ahahahaha! The boss.

You would totally laugh at that. You laughed at something similar yesterday. Heh. 'Cause it's funny. Anyone would laugh at that. Yeah but it's different. It's not different! Just stop it!

BigD Talk to me! Distract me! And Why is all my music so fucking melancholy? Jeezus it's a wrist slitting soundtrack in here! Hmmm… so boring in my own head. Maybe I can write in my head.

What I wrote in my head:

Here take it….the unrequited longing, the gnawing empty ache that spirals in and out of every moment. The steady build of thoughts and energy piled up without you to bounce off of and blossom with, all of it slamming and sliding up against the wall you've built like tectonic plates. All the treasures locked up in the time you never have, the moments you'll never know, the brilliance of sparkling glitter our fusion might have made, the heat we'll never create, the love we can't make. Just take it.

Untitled part seven

Nobody was there when I finally made it home from work. I paced around the apartment until my mom called.

"Are you okay?"

"We're okay, we went to Joey's."

"What exactly happened?"

"Well, he was going to call the cops if we didn't leave so we just packed my stuff and left."

"Who was going to call the cops?"

"Roomies dad"

"He can't do that, he's not on the lease!"

"It's okay, we don't want to be any trouble."

"Any trouble! You practically paid the rent this month for the privilege of being thrown on the street in November with nine months pregnant BigD!!"

"Don't worry about that… what about you? Do you need a place to stay?"

"No! I pay rent here, my name is on the lease here, I'm not going anywhere! Listen I have to go, I think she just pulled up. I'll call you tomorrow."

Keys were jingling in the door and Roomie strolled in, studiously avoiding eye contact. She hung her coat in the closet and I walked over to stand in the hall, blocking her escape path. "Why didn't you just tell me you wanted my mom to leave?" she shrugged, her eyes focused somewhere behind me. "What happened here today is unforgivable, Roommate."

"Are you going to move so I can get by?"

"When I'm finished." I said "I want to be clear on this. I'm not leaving. I pay rent here, this is my home and I'm not going to be shoved out just because you've got a new boyfriend you want to live with. You don't want my mom staying here, fine. You could have just said so like a decent person instead of having your Daddy and your boyfriend do it while I was at work. It's unbelievable! My mom taught you to drive, she cut your hair, she's always been good to you! Your dad screamed and yelled at her, threatened to call the cops! She was crying!" she turned her head away, her eyes were glazed over "So you got what you wanted this time. You're right, my mom is not on the lease and if you would rather she didn't stay over, I respect that. But do not for one second think your dad or The Troll intimidate me. I share a lease with you and with you alone, you have a problem you come to me."

"Are you done?"

"Yeah. I'm done" I shifted to let her pass.

He called a few minutes later.

"Hey, are you okay? I didn't know if you'd even be there."

"Where else would I be, I live here."

"I heard about what happened with your mom, it really sucks… Is The Troll home yet?"

"No."

"Listen… I don't know what's going on there or if anything has happened yet….. I know you can hold your own with The Troll,  I've seen you do it and actually I like it a lot,  I just wanted to say.." he hesitated, wasn't sure if he was breaking some code of loyalty to his friend, The Troll.

"well?"

"I'm just sort of worried. I've seen him do things… to women. Maybe don't do anything until I get there."

"And if you were here? How exactly would you help?" I asked but  he knew I was wondering why he appeared to be backing me up over his long-time friend.

"He's wrong. And I don't want anything to happen to you. Just don't start anything with him."

"You think I would start something? I don't have anything to say to him. This is between me and Roommate." He didn't say anything but I could tell he wanted to convince me, could hear it in his breathing.

"I'll see you after work" he finally said.

"I'll be up." I mimicked his line and he chuckled into the phone.

Untitled part three

It was three days in when the roommates former boyfriend caught me on the phone.

"Oh.. Hi Josiah. How are you?"

"Dew(ed)! What the hell is going on over there? She won't take my calls!"

"Oh, over here? What do you mean?" I had no idea what Roommate had told him to explain the sudden break-up.

"You have strange old guys living in your apartment? I'm really worried about you guys. After two years she just calls it off, just like that? IS she sleeping with him? Did she sleep with him the first night they met?"

"I'm sorry, Josiah. I really don't know what to say."  He was watching me from the couch. Observing every nuance of every moment knowingly. "It's not really any of my business…." I trailed off turning my body away from my audience.

"None of your business, aren't we friends? Is that over too?"

"Of course we're friends, Josiah." his pain was palpable even over the phone and I really felt bad for him. "I'm just not going to be a go-between for you and Roommate."

"I'm so lonely and messed up right now. I just need someone to talk to. Do you want to hang out?"

"Well, sure I guess. Umm… it's probably best if you don't come here."

"I'll come pick you up."

"Alright… I'll watch for you. You probably shouldn't come to the door either." he sighed loudly.

"What are you hostages?"

"Just honk or something, okay?" I hung up with Josiah unsure of whether it was right to hang out with him.

"That was Roommate's boyfriend." he stated with a  smirk.

"Yeah. He's pretty upset." I said, my forehead scrunched up with concern.

"He's going to put the moves on you."

"He is not!"

"Just be prepared."

"He's not going to put the moves on me!"

"Wanna bet?"

"No I'm not going to bet!"

"That's because you know he wants you."

"I do not! We're friends! He's Roommates boyfriend,"

"Ex-boyfriend." he interrupted me.

"Yeah well barely." I said, rolling my eyes. "I've never even liked him much. But they were together a long time and we became friends."

"How long?"

"A couple years."

"Wow. Your roommate moves fast." he observed, I think to hear my reaction. And then he added. "And in all that time he's never touched you? Never hugged you?"

"That doesn't mean anything! People hug."

"You don't hug."

"You think you know me?" I laughed too loudly.

"I know I do. You know you're an open book but you don't want to be and you try hard to hide it."

"Yeah well. You don't know everything." I responded lamely and he smiled at me. There was a honking sound outside that made me wonder if Josiah had been calling from a payphone nearby. "Well, that's for me. See ya later."

"I'll be up." he said and I shrugged before heading out to Josiah's car.

Untitled part four

Josiah had already turned his VW bug around and I lowered myself in it's lowered frame delicately. The car was his baby, he had re built it and added hoopla to it for the last two years. The Roommate hated his car, hated that he loved it, spent so much time on it and was so protective of it. They met when he worked at a Jiffy Lube, she was having the oil changed in her vw bug, a rather beat up car, but loved all the more for it. He fell in love, with her, with her car, I don't know.

He sold his jetta and purchased the shell this shiny, all new car once was and spent hours and unfathomable amounts of money making it exactly the way he wanted it. The stereo was incredible and he had put nine inch nails on for me, eliminating the need for conversation until we got to his place. He lived with his parents. At barely twenty-one he was still in school to be a mechanic and spent all his money on his car.

It was the first time I had ever been inside there, I was surprised to see his bedroom, the twin bed and teenager like set-up. "So, you want to watch a movie?" he asked

"Umm… I'm not sure… I don't know how long I can stay, I have to work tomorrow." He nodded and turned the stereo on. There were at least three lava lamps going and one of his bedside lamps must have had a black light bulb, my white t-shirt was glowing. Rather than sit on his bed I sat on his giant bean bag, my stiff self felt ridiculous perched on the noisy vinyl bag and I was surprised when he plopped himself on the other end of it, nearly knocking me to the floor. It was a big bean bag, but not THAT big.  I hopped up and feigned interest in his posters, then sat on the edge of his bed.

He was up and out of the bean bag in a heartbeat, changing the cd and then next to me on the bed. He started talking. "Do you think there's any chance Roommate and I will get back together?" he asked me.

"Oh… Josiah… I don't really feel comfortable talking about that…"

"But she won't tell me anything! I keep trying to call her."

"That's probably a big clue… listen I'm just going to say that yeah I think it's over and let's leave it at that."

The silence spread thick and we stared at the lava in the lamps, the globs swelling and dripping. The Roommate was the only thing we had in common. "Things hadn't been going that well." he told me. "I don't know how much she talked to you about it."

"She didn't. Not really." I said. "We weren't really close like that."

"She thought I had a thing for you."

"What?!?"

"She never told you that?"

"No! Why would she even think that?"

"The thing is… I never would have.. I mean I never was going to do anything, ever. But now… I just always thought we would have been better together."

"Josiah……" he had his hand on my upper thigh. I picked it up and put it in his own lap.

"Is it too soon?" he asked

"No. It's.. just not right. I don't think of you that way."  he put his hand on my shoulder and massaged a little.

"What happened to you?" he asked me

"What are you talking about?"

"You used to be all lit up but for months now you're … you're… I don't know. Roommate said you got a letter and you've never been the same." he looked genuinely puzzled and I laughed uncomfortably.

"That's a weird thing for her to say." I finally said

"I don't know who hurt you or why you don't date or anything but ….Well, I think I could make you happy. I know you would make me happy." All at once he had decided it was go time, he leaned in fast and it was as if his tongue was down my throat before our lips even touched.

Hands on his shoulders I shoved him off me. "Hey! Josiah!" finally he seemed to hear me and sat up staring at me with a surprised expression.

"I think you better take me home."

"Okay." he said and I got up right away, putting my jacket on. We didn't say anymore until he had pulled up outside the apartments. "I'd like us to be friends." he told me "I hope you're not mad at me."

"I just don't really think that would work out." I told him.

"Tell Roommate to call me!" he said and I sorta shook my head and walked away.

He was reading one of my books on the couch when I came in. I didn't say anything. He didn't say anything. But he knew. And I knew it.

Untitled part five

Days went by, turned into weeks the way they do. Tensions were thick in the apartment. Roommate and her troll were living exclusively in her bedroom, but there was talk of all of us renting a house. Slowly that talk changed to the unmistakable truth, they wanted me out. The Troll had taken to bossing me around, telling me who could call the apartment and when, etc. He was easy enough to shut down, was intimidated by my ability to string sentences together. There wasn't any way to get rid of him and the other even if he wasn't now the Roommates boyfriend. They were tenants now. Roommate and I were no longer speaking as she remains to this day master of the passive aggressive silent treatment I loath so fiercely. My time was spent going to work, not sleeping, going back to work, not having enough money to pay the bills, rinse and repeat.

Meanwhile my kid sister was pregnant at seventeen, my little brother was missing,  and my parents were splitting up. There wasn't anywhere to turn, no where to go to get out of this situation, not enough money to move and no extra money to save for it. I started skipping out on work. First for genuine reasons, then… I just didn't care anymore.. Found myself wandering in the store and then realizing I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing and didn't care.

He and I had established a sort of  understanding. Without actually saying anything specific about the vibe between us he had put me slightly more at ease around him with a talk. He said, "You know, Dew(ed), I know you think I'm a dorky old guy with the hots for you but we can be friends." and we sort of had no choice, since he was living in my living room.

It wasn't all bad times. A bright spot in the dim was The 3rd Amigo. The Roommate and I had been friends since high school, (the years before I moved away) and we had been a threesome. Now the 3rd Amigo was married, had a sweet little family and they started hanging out with me, at the apartment a lot. Her son, was around two and absolutely adorable. We stopped smoking in the apartment he was over so often. It was really her husband, Crispy who inserted a steal strand of normalcy though.

When they invited us all to drive to the beach to stay in her families beach house for the weekend, we all got excited. A truce was called, bags were packed and we piled into vehicles eagerly. It soon became clear we were on two separate trips. The Roomie and The Troll were on a free romantic get-away and the rest of us were on a friendly adventure. It didn't matter though, things went a long great the first night, lots of laughing and story-telling and general amusements.

Then the Roommate asked to look at The Trolls driver's license. You know, when everyone's hanging out and for some reason start comparing DMV pictures, wallet contents, etc? He refused, did everything he could to prevent it. Finally he handed it over. He wasn't 25. He was 30, making Mr. Wecanbefriends 31. Roomie was pissed. So pissed she suspended her silent treatment on me and took one up on him.

I was out on the beach when she found me, sitting watching the ocean roll with sand in my fingers and toes. "Did you hear?" she asked me quietly. I didn't look at her.

"Yeah."

"What do you think?"

"I don't think anything."

"So it's going to be like that?"

"It is what it is."  She sat there awhile, not really moving and finally I realized she was crying. "Do you care that he's thirty or that he's a liar?"

"The lying. It's so stupid. When was he going to tell me?"

"As soon as you found out."

"He says he didn't think he had a chance with me if he told me his real age. What do I do?"

"He's been telling the entire store that he's twenty-five for six months." I pointed out flatly.

"I need to think about it"

"yeah. I imagine you do." I said and stood up to brush the sand off my ass, walking down to the water to visit with 3rd Amigo and Crispy.  We all expressed our amusement and curiosity over the strange lie, the fact that Mr. Wecanbefriends went along with it. Crispy pointed out how every story Mr. had told had time frames that he had to have improvised on the spot in order for them to make sense. When he told us about when his son was born, when he talked about his divorce, all of it carefully slightly altered so that it would fit his faked age. It was amazing, insane and entirely hypnotic.

Untitled part six

That night The Troll must have worked his "place hand here" magic, he and Roommate reunited and she resumed her silent treatment toward me. A few more weeks passed by, filled with hanging out with Crispy, 3rd Amigo, and Mr. Wecanbefriends. I got another job, at another store and was settling into the new routine but we still didn't know what was going to happen. Mr. surely wouldn't want to remain on the couch forever and Roomie and Troll were silent as to what their plan was. Working again gave a touching stone of normal to my life.

Then one day my mom called. She needed a place to stay for a week until she could make arrangements elsewhere. Of course I told her to come right away. Roomie and the Homeless were entirely understanding, teasing my mom and making her and my pregnant sister feel welcome. Until a few days later when 3rd Amigo called me at work.

"What are you doing? You can't call me at work!" I started off when I knew who it was.

"Listen, Roomie had her dad come over to the apartment and kick your mom out today."

"WHAT?"

"I thought you would want to know."

"My shifts not over for another two hours!"

"I don't think there's anything you can do now anyway. They're gone and we don't know where. Crispy and I drove around looking for them but we couldn't find them. Your mom was crying, they were yelling at her."

"What is wrong with them?" I shifted around, wanting to walk, to move, to escape but I was attached to a phone on a cord. "You know she told you because she doesn't have the balls to tell me herself, right?"

"I don't want to get in the middle of this. I'm friends with both of you."

"This isn't an argument about petty shit, she's seriously fucked up!" I was angry enough to consider violence.

"She said she didn't really know they were going to do it… at least not today."

"Bullshit. She had The Troll and Daddy come do her dirty work for her… without a word to me! She could have told me if she was upset about it!"

"Are you freaking out?"

"yes!" If there's ever a time to freak out. "I have to go… I'm not supposed to be taking personal calls."

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know."

"We'll come over tonight."

"I don't know."

"You're going to confront them alone?"

"Well. Nobody is taking sides."

"Yeah, but you shouldn't be alone... The Troll has a nasty temper."

"yeah? And what?"

"You're crazy."

"I've been really fuckin' patient. Now they've messed with my mom. Who do they think they are, anyway?"

"They're going to evict you." the words came out of her fast.. a secret revealed.

"They think so, huh? They're more stupid than I thought. And you think they can, don't ya?"

"If they don't want you there....."

"Fuck that. Let's just see them try." I laughed loudly."I gotta go."

A Stony Threat

"Maaaamaaa! Shshsh! Loud noiyze! Shshshsh! Mamaa!" Little Man was hollering at me from the big bed but there was no way I was going to get in bed, knowing The Man was out waging war somewhere in the neighborhood. I shuffled window to window, peering out into the dark in the hope of some clue as to what was going on.

"It's okay Little Man, I'll be there in a minute, just lay down and rest and be quiet."

"Mama! It's a minute!" he countered but I kept moving.

From Little Man's window I suddenly saw a head pop up from the other side of our six foot wood fence and three seconds after I saw it was The Man I jumped three feet in the air. After he glanced down the narrow passage along the side of the house and the fence he disappeared, moving toward the back of the house.

"Shit" I hissed and dashed to the kitchen to grab a phone. After another round to all the windows on every side of the house I realized that whatever was happening, it wasn't happening where I could see it and went to the big bed and half crawled in, soothing Little Man into hushing for awhile by handing him his sippy cup of water. Moments ticked by for an eternity and just when I had decided I had to go after him, at least out to the front yard to try to see where he went and had wandered back to the window in the master bedroom I saw something out in the dark, coming from the track.

It was The Man strolling along in his underwear in a way that told me he had accomplished something. I dashed to meet him at the front door. "What happened!? Where were you! I didn't know what I should do!"

"I chased the bastard down! Caught him on the other side of the track"

"What? Who? How did you catch him?"

"When I first looked out the back door I saw the kid, maybe sixteen or something standing on the other side of our fence, by the corner looking in our backyard. By the time I got out there he was crouched down along the fence waiving a lighter along the dead weeds along the fence where the school sprayed. When he saw me he took off. I circled back around to see if he hopped the fence but he wasn't there. Then I spotted him over by the pump house and took off after him." The Man paused to drink an entire glass of water. "he had a huge head start but I had adrenaline going and I couldn't even feel my legs I was" he demonstrated pumping his arms hard with an angry face and grunting and I laughed "I just had to get him and I was getting close, getting ready to kick his feet out from under him when he looked back and saw how close I was, he tried to dodge to the right but he tripped so he was down on the ground and I raised my arms up holding the rocks,"

"what rocks?" I asked him with huge eyes. "You had ROCKS??"

"Yeah, when I was out front I grabbed those two big rocks you have on either side of your little trail thing."

"You brought them back right?"

"Yeah! I put 'em back."

"Okay so you held up the big rocks at this kid!?"

"Yeah I held the rocks up and was saying what the fuck are you doing? and the kid was blubbering on in Russian so I said You better speak English or I'm going to bash your head in! and The Man demonstrated the way he shook the rocks menacingly at the kid cowering on the ground "Right away he starts saying I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It was a dare! So I told him never to come anywhere around our house or I'd break his legs and scared the shit out of him and he swore he wouldn't and that's it."

"Wow." We were back in the bedroom by now, climbing back in bed and I was overcome with the hilarity of it.  "Can you imagine what went through that kids' head? A crazy man in his shoes and underwear chasing him down with two giant rocks?!?"

"I don't think he noticed the underwear." The Man was not laughing.

"Oh yes he did. A person notices things like that." I giggled about it some more.

"You know what I wonder?" the man asked me. "IF his friends dared him, where were they? Why didn't they come out and stick up for him?"

"friends!?" I snorted "They ran when he picked up the rock! I bet the entire group hates that little shit and always make him do stupid things. Didn't you know people like that? They hang around and won't go away so everyone picks on them?"

"I don't get that. Back in the day, if that was one of us, even if we didn't like them we would have been right there in the mix."

"Not everyone is like you and your brother, hon."

"Mama? Night night?" Little Man asked longingly between us.

"Yeah baby, let's go to sleep." We all burrowed down in the covers and tried to relax after the excitement. "You sorta wish a big mob came out and you all had a beat down fight, don't ya?" I asked The Man around a yawn.

"nooooo…." he said in a tone I knew was a lie. "that would be wrong." he sighed.

"Well, I'm glad you just scared that kid."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Me too." Little Man contributed and we all laughed.

Untitled part one

It did annoy me that the new guy had managed to secure a position above me based on his balls alone. I won't deny that. He strolled around cocky about it, his giant ring of keys jangling about chiming "I'm better than you, I can open more doors". Other than that I didn't have any problem with him. He was friendly enough and our duties as management favorites often had us teamed up on projects together or passing one another throughout the store performing our job tasks.

The ladies around the store buzzed about him more than his physique seemed to call for, he was on the short side and sort of short limbed if you asked me. Still he had a way of captivating an audience and that day in the stock room wasn't any exception. He was talking with me and a cashier friend of mine about how tired he was. Of course we asked him why and he was all too happy to explain how he had been chased from his apartment by a gang who's ring-leader hated him for sticking up for the guy's girlfriend in some kind of domestic dispute. Now he was living out of his van until he could amass a few paychecks to get in another place.

Did I mention I was nineteen and stupid? Oh well, you'll figure that out in a minute.

I invited him over for dinner. It seemed the only decent thing to do. Of course, I told him I would need to check with my roommate first to see if she had plans already but told him he could call me later when I got off work. The roomie gave the go-ahead and before I knew it he was sitting in our apartment telling her the story of his homelessness.

The thing about inviting homeless people over for dinner is that at some point dinner is over… and you have the awkward moment where you're basically sending them out into the world with no where to go. Who can do that???  Even worse he was getting a terrible cough. The only thing to do was say he could stay over. And let him drink most of a bottle of Nyquil from our medicine cabinet when he knocked at my door asking if I had any in the middle of the night.

He was in bad shape. Of course… looking back I'm not sure he WAS sick. But I believed him then and I felt bad for him. Bad enough that I sat up with him on the floor where we had set up his bed in our living room waiting for the medicine to kick in. We ended up crashing out there on the floor. Or I thought he had until he put my hand on his dick.

No I didn't do that!! I know, given the story so far you'd think so, huh?

I just left his own hand on his dick, kissed him on the cheek and went to bed.  What a terrible move! Just put my hand on your dick out of no where?!? Right? I mean who the fuck goes for that shit?

Well, I'll tell you who. My roommate. The next night.

Untitled part two

The troll had been with us a couple nights when we found out about his buddy. Now that he was sleeping with the roommate he wasn't any trouble at all. Honestly, it was nice to have another vibe in the place, thing had been getting weird between the roommate and I for weeks. Now it was like something was always happening, it distracted us from the mundane barely scraping by existence we'd fallen into.

We were sitting around in the living room, hanging out when he said something about how he and his friend had been taking turns sleeping in the van. He was joking about how convenient having all those keys were for going out in the parking lot during his shift to visit with him and have a cigarette. The friend worked the night shift so they alternated sleeping in the parking lot of one another's work places. He said it worked great except on their days off when they'd get real bored hanging out in the van in a parking lot all day.

"Wait. So where is the friend right now?" I asked him.

"Out in the van."

"You left him in our parking lot?"

"I wasn't sure if I should bring him in."

"That's horrible!! Go bring him in."

This is the part in the movie where you scream "Don't do it naked teenager! Don't answer the door! Do NOT run upstairs, you're trapped, trapped!!!"

The roommate and I were laughing and marveling over the fact that he hadn't revealed any information about having a friend with him at any time. So bizarre! And funny! We really chuckled and chortled over all the little holes in his story. I even pointed out that every time he told the story about having to leave his apartment it sounded a lot more like he was busted cheating with some stripper and that's why her boyfriend wanted to kill him. The roommate didn't care for that interpretation one bit. I laughed and said I only meant it was sort of stupid that he would make up such an elaborate lie when all he had to say was "I need a place to stay." and he would have been in.

Moments later we had another homeless man in our apartment. He looked a bit older than the troll but they said they were both twenty-five. He was different, seemed uncomfortable with the entire situation, had more intelligence in his eyes. Made me talk him into staying over too.  It could be that was genuine, it could be he was just that much better a con man. One thing that's certain; he was smart,  he could tell a story. He played with words. And he was funny.

Did you hear that? That was my fate being sealed.

Still, he was much older, covered in prison tattoos, and always in a stocking cap, making him look a little shifty.  He just had more life under his belt, "Twenty-five" or not. I enjoyed his stories from the other side of the room but kept my distance from him. He had a way of always watching me, really seeing me that made me uncomfortable, made me feel awkward, inexperienced and vulnerable. He knew that. He was patient, knowing the same way I did that what was coming was inevitable, that I truly had no defense to match him.

A Clunk in the Night

Around two am I decided I better get to bed. I've found I need at least six hours of sleep to keep the cranky Mama from rearing her ugly head and refusing to maintain the household in the clumsy style we've all grown fond of. Little Man was already ensconced in the big bed. It had been extremely humid that day and that's the only room with air conditioning.

Plus I'm a sucker. When he says "No Mama, night night room!"  followed by the head tilt with plaintive beseeching brown eyes and that mop of yellow copper hair and a super sweet "Peeeeeaaaas!" and then emphatic pointing toward our room I don't have a chance. Still, in the interest of getting the full benefit of the six hours I had left to sleep I thought I might be able to transfer him to his own bed if I made sure there weren't toys on it first.

Lil' Dew's door was open and seeing that reminded me that she had her window wide open, letting in the cool night air and I climbed up on her bed to slide it shut and lower her blinds. In Little Man's tiny room I flipped the light on, adjusted the pillow on his tiny toddler bed until it was just so and flipped his comforter down before I quietly turned the door knob on the door to the master bedroom and eased it open. He sat up immediately as though he had been waiting for me.

"Hi Mamaaaa!" he welcomed me in his sing-song way.

"Shhshshshs! It's still night-night time, lay down and go to sleep!" I whispered at him and walked across to The Mans side of the bed where the dresser is to dig out some jammie shorts.

"What doing Mama?" Little Man questioned me.

"SSSHHHSH! I'm getting my pajama bottoms."

"Niiice." Little Man popped his thumb back in and nodded with his entire body vigorously.

"Yes, yes. It's very nice. You need to hush and go to sleep, mister."

"No0oo0o0o0... You hush Mama, you night night!"

"That's what I'm doing!" I told him and flipped the covers back on my side of the bed. He was cuddled up there in the center of my pillow. "Listen, buddy, you're going to have to scoot over and make room for Mama in there."

"I not scoot Mama."

"Ssshh!" I told him, and  "oh yes you will!" as I scooped and slid him over into the center of the bed. As soon as I crawled in he was on top of me, of course. We wrestled around for a long time, trying to get comfortable, and trying to settle him down. Finally I gave up the idea of personal comfort and he settled into my neck, slurping away at his thumb and quiet surrounded us.

C L U N K

"Man! Did you hear that?" I sat up and flapped my arms toward The Man in an attempt to rouse him. "Something just hit one of the windows, hard."

"Wha .. Huh?" He was out of the bed and moving swiftly out of the bedroom. I heard him make his way out to the sliding door on the back of the house. Then he came back toward and I saw him peeking through the blinds out toward our fence and on the other side of that the track. In moments he was flipping our bedroom light on and tossing shoes around in the bottom of our closet, fumbling in his hurry to shove his feet in his sneakers. I watched him in amazement.

"There's a kid standing out there."

"Out where!? In our yard or on the other side of the fence?"

"Over by the track."

"what are you doing? Should we call somebody?"

"No. I'm just going to go talk to him." he said

"Do you think maybe you need pants first?" I asked him as he managed to get his second foot in his shoe.  He shook his head, barely a glance toward me and headed out the front door in his boxer briefs and sneakers.

Dew Drops

Sometimes, Monday is a relief.  The kids and I can get back to our routine.  I like structure, I like counting on naptime and I like my day to have a certain order about it.  Still…..it's a slippery slope to checker eating when you do the same thing day in and day out. It begins in the night when The Man brings Little Man in to sleep with me in the wee hours and then heads to work.  It's just me, the kids and the endless downward spiral of housework.

Little Man wakes up and we play "Baby tries to crawl off the two-story high bed and Mommy tries to get fifteen more minutes of sleep".  It's the snooze button for stay-at-home moms.  Then I finally give up and we move to the couch where it's "Baby drinks a bottle while Mommy dozes".  At some point Lil Dew joins us, my niece arrives and we have breakfast.

There's the making of the breakfast ( I pour the cereal or wait for the waffle to pop up), the eating of the breakfast and the cleaning of the baby and his chair.  Then I try to do some chores while chasing him around and getting him out of jams.  Then he has another bottle and takes a nap.  I finish up the chores I couldn't do before and break up fights between the girls. Little Man wakes up.  I chase him some more until lunch.

There's the making of the lunch, the eating of the lunch and the cleaning up the baby and his chair. After he runs some of the after lunch joy off Little Man has another bottle and takes another nap.  The girls read for thirty minutes and then we either go outside to play in the pool or do an arts and crafts project. Little Man wakes up in time for snack.

There's the making of the snack, the eating of the snack and the cleaning the baby after the snack.  By this time we're desperate for a change of scenery and we go somewhere even if it's just outside to play. The Man gets home and we start talking about what we should have for dinner.

Then there's the making of the dinner, the eating of the dinner and the cleaning it up afterward.  This is the busiest time of my day.  The phone rings, the kids are worn-out, people come over, and The Man and I try to get some "me time" like crazy ping pong balls shooting in and out of our hiding spots around the house.   Before you know it it's time for Little Man's nightcap and  Lil Dew's bedtime chapter.  The Man showers and goes to bed and then bliss, it's just me and whatever I want to do with the evening. Is it any wonder I can't sleep?     

*************************************************************

Ever get where you could just pop? I'm like the hottest most slippery kernel in the bag tonight. I wanna stomp n' jive in combat boots. I want spiked orange hair. I want a tattooed body sleeve of  four leaf clover and lightning bolts just so I could stretch it and step on out with knees up in a march to the beat in my heart. I'd like a reason to throw my arms up and spin until the stars above me kaleidoscope and bend my very existence into, around, above and below you until all hope of escape is lost, until we can let go and just drown in the slippery crackling heat, until we burst into kernal fluff.

*************************************************************

If it's true that I stopped swimming the year before I became a mom than Lil Dew is the pearl I brought back with me from the deepest part of the ocean.

I absolutely believe she's magic and count myself lucky to call her my own.

She was born 10-10-2000, via an emergency c-section due to her bossing me from the womb. Her umbilical chord had wrapped around her arm from the finger wagging.

She's balance and fire and fast-forward, with sharp blue eyes and freckled cheeks, whipped wheat hair and a roller coaster heart.

Dew(ed) is spelled F. U.

"I'm going to put you on the account." he said. We were at Blockbuster choosing movies to pay late fees on a couple-few years ago.

"What? Why?" I was startled by this news. We had already moved in together wasn't that enough?

"So you can come rent movies whenever you want." he said simply.

"Oh. Okay. I guess." I couldn't imagine a time I would go rent a movie, it was more his thing so he went up to the counter while I meandered my way around the outer edge of the video rental store. One benefit to almost never watching movies is the plethora of choices you have when you DO go.

Then I overheard The Man talking to the employee at the front of the small store. Actually what I heard was far more dangerous than that. I heard the little punk talking on and on with almost zero response from The Man. I figured I'd go rescue the employee from dismemberment. As I got closer I heard the tail end of their discussion.

"Are you sure you know this girl well enough to add her to your account?" the guy asked him.

"We live together!" The Man answered.

"What's going on?" I asked The Man and shot him the 'this really isn't important enough to have an aneurysm' look.

"He needs your name and stuff" he said and shoved a clipboard at me before wandering off angrily.

"Ooooookay.." I took the pen from the counter and began filling in the information.

"You realize he doesn't know how to spell your name and I'm pretty sure he's not positive of your last name, right?" The little jerk had his body propped against the counter I was using as a writing surface, speaking to me as though he and I were old girlfriends about to dish, as though he would like to be that guy, the one who plays the "your boyfriend sucks - you poor baby" card all the way to the top button of your pants and never understands why he never makes it in. "What are you doing with him?"

I ignored him completely until I had all the spaces filled in correctly and had carefully placed the pen under the clamp on the keyboard. He waited patiently, he's sensitive like that , ya know. Then I looked him square in the eye. "I don't need what I already have." I gazed at the little weasel meaningfully and passed the clipboard over to him. "and I already have a pussy."

On our way out to the car The Man asked "What was that guy saying to you?"

"What a nosy little prick! Never mind that!" I answered him "You can't spell my NAME?" I asked him incredulously.

"It's a hard name!" he said "Dew(ed) can be spelled a lot of ways! And it doesn't come up much. When have I ever needed to write your name?"

"It's not like I spell it different ways to confuse you, though. And you've never known anyone else with it spelled any different." We drove toward home in silence. Finally I broke the silence with a joke. "I know how I'm spelling it right now: F U !"

Don't Pinch any, Man!

Lil Man and I heard him come in around 7:30 this morning.

"Daddy?" he asked me and I mumbled something about daylight not always meaning it's time to get up. "Hunny, Mama!" he responded and added "Daddy! Ho0o0ome? Daddy! I hunny!" We rolled around in the blankets, snuggly and warm until I heard his keys land in the glass bowl on the counter and The Man made his way down the hall to the master bedroom.

"Heeey Lil Man!" he said from the door way. The party hadn't left his voice yet.

"Look at you crawling home in the morning!" I teased him. "What are you, a rock star?"

"I know." he lamented "Why do people have parties at night?"

"I hunny! Want down, Daddy!" Lil Man interrupted. The girls, hearing the commotion, came blinking and pink from Lil Dew's room and crawled up in the bed with Lil Man and I.

"I got some milk." he said

"Well, that's good," I pictured the girls pouring cereal for breakfast. "but you forgot the rest of the groceries." I groaned, wondering why I felt so stiff considering I went to bed at a decent hour. For some reason, when The Man isn't home I go to bed early.

"DOWN!" Lil Man insisted and the entire crew made their way out to the kitchen, leaving me rolling in the messy covers wondering if I could sleep through breakfast. Soon the ache in my head left me no choice and I slid from smooth warm sheets into cool worn-in denim and made my toward the refrigerator that houses the dew. I could smell that breakfast was nearly done, too.

"So. How was the party?" I asked him. Last night was his littlest brother's 24th birthday party.

"You should have gone instead!" he said, sounding surprised "Everyone knew you!"

"What?" I asked laughing. Neither of us knew very many of Sock's friends.

"They did! All these girls kept talking about you to me!" he said and I realized he meant friends of Sock's Mate who I've met out dancing.

"That's a couple thing. If you've met one side of a couple you talk about them to their other half to make conversation." I explained as I spooned nesquick into cups for the kids.

"There was this one girl from that night I had the campout with the kids and this other girl about this tall and another one who says you're like the biggest ass kicker ever." he was slicing pancakes up for Lil Man and spooning scrambled eggs onto plates next to steak.

"Yeah.. Umm the description "this one girl" isn't really doing much for me." I said before the end of his sentence hit me. "Wait, WHAT? An ass kicker?" we both laughed and laughed at the idea that I might appear to be an ass kicker to someone else.

"It was crazy, they all knew you!" he repeated as we carried the plates to the table and the kids swarmed around us.

"Well," I shrugged, nonchalant. "I'm Dew(ed)." We started opening windows as smoke filled the room from the oven. I shook my head at him, smiling. "And you thought you might not have a good time!"

"It was fun." he said, grinning. "I hate drunk talking though. It was so loud!"

"Why was it loud?" I asked him. The party had been at his own brother's house; it seemed like he could have turned any music down.

"There was music.. And talking… and" he paused "maybe I was just some shouting guy!" he suddenly realized

"Ahahah!" I laughed "That's when you know you're old!"

"Yeah, they were a bunch of kids." he said laughing. "I wanted to smell this guys shit and he said Don't pinch any, man" we started laughing at the idea that The Man needed to pinch weed off some kid.

"Nobody wants their shit smelled! I think that's a party foul!" I told The Man.

"Really? I just wanted to smell it! He acted like I was going to say Look! Over there!" The Man gestured a finger toward our window, then pantomimed stealing a pinch out of someone's baggy, which left us both giggling madly.

"So, did anyone else stay over?" I asked him, trying to picture him sleeping on their couch as he lowered the length of his body on ours.

"Nope. And good thing, there wasn't any extra room on that couch. Everyone else had rides and shit. One guy was supposed to go to work at midnight! They were telling him to drink beer!" We shook our heads at the craziness of youth. It always blows The Man's mind that other people don't take work as seriously as he does.

"Well, I'm glad you had a good time!" I tossed a blanket over him.

"Crispy said something about BBQing later today…I don't know I'm beat." The Man said

"Well, Crispy BBQs are late in the day so we'll see how you're doing then." his eyes had sealed as soon as the quilt settled over him.