I’m finally starting to get into a bit of a groove again with writing. It’s slow, but it’s happening. I’ve been working on my new book since July, and I’m not quite done the first draft yet. However, I thought I’d post just a little bit of what I’ve been working on. I hope you like it!
Lisa was barely in the door of her apartment when the phone rang. “Hi Mom,” she said as she answered, throwing her briefcase down on the couch. “What’s up?”
Apparently, Judy Sullivan wasn’t in the mood to beat around the bush. “Your father wants to know if you’ve been to see your grandmother lately,” she said.
Lisa groaned. “I’ve been busy,” she said.
“Lisa,” her mother reprimanded, “your poor grandmother is there in that nursing home, just waiting for someone to visit. Would you want to be in that place, with no one ever visiting you?” Lisa thought to herself that she didn’t need video conferencing for conversations with her mother: she knew exactly what the look on her mother’s face was at that moment.
“Maybe she’d get more visitors if she hadn’t been so nasty before she went cuckoo,” Lisa said snarkily. She knew she shouldn’t have said it, and she felt badly as soon as she did, but she just couldn’t help herself.
“Lisa Danielle!” her mother said, shocked.
Flopping down on the couch, Lisa lay her head back against the soft cushions. “I’m sorry,” she said contritely. “I shouldn’t have said that.” But you know it’s true, she thought to herself.
“So when are you going to go?” her mother asked.
Another groan inadvertently escaped her lips. “I don’t know. Soon,” she promised.
“Fine. I’ll go tomorrow morning after I go to the gym, all right?” Her mother murmured something along the lines of a thank you. “I don’t know what the point is, though,” she said. “She hasn’t once known who I am for the past three years.”
Her mother sighed. “Lisa, that’s not the point. I know it’s hard to see her like that, but she’s all alone. No one should be all alone. Not at that stage in their lives.”
“Then why don’t you move her in with you and Dad?” Lisa asked. She knew the answer, she was just being a brat, but the whole conversation was bugging her. She hated being guilted like this.
“You know that your grandmother needs more care than your father and I can give her here. She needs medical care.”
“I know, I know.” Lisa stared at her gym bag waiting in the corner of the living room, by the front hall of the apartment. “I’ll go tomorrow, after my workout, all right?” She sounded like she was arranging her own execution. “I’m not staying long, though. I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to sit there and have conversations by myself.” She paused. “When was the last time that DAD was there, anyway?” she asked.
There was a long silence. “That doesn’t matter,” her mother said. That pretty much gave Lisa the answer to her question. She wouldn’t even ask about Aunt Barbara. Barbara hadn’t been home from Texas in over two years.
A slight feeling of pity for her grandmother softened her. She still wasn’t looking forward to this visit, but she did have to admit that her mother was right. It was awfully sad that she was stuck in that place, not even knowing who she was, or who any of her family was, and no one came to even talk to her except the nurses. But damn, she really hated these visits.
“I promise, Mom,” she said. “I’ll go tomorrow.”
The next morning she grabbed her gym bag and headed out. Her workouts were one of her favourite parts of the week. She spent most of the week surrounded by people: students, other teachers, her boyfriend, her friends, his friends, her roommate. At the gym, despite all of the other people around, she could feel alone. She put on her earphones and no one bothered her. There were no tests to mark, or assignments to grade. No letters to write to upset parents. No kids asking for bandaids or tissues. No messy art projects. No one wanting her attention. Just her, her music, and the machines. She wasn’t an exercise class kind of person.
She selected a playlist on her iPod, strapped it to her arm and put in her earphones. A nice, long warmup was in order this morning, she thought. She stepped on to the footrests of the elliptical and looked up at the televisions on the wall in front of her. Closed captioning was on. No need for the sound. Just news anyway.
She tried not to think about going to see her grandmother when she was done. It wouldn’t be a long visit. She’d been upfront with her mother about that. She thought about the woman she had known as a child. Lillian Sullivan had been as far from “grandmotherly” as you could get. Nothing that Lisa ever did was right. She was too loud one minute, and speaking too quietly the next. Her grades were never good enough. Lillian wanted a polite young lady for a granddaughter, and that wasn’t Lisa. Jason, her older half-brother, was definitely the favourite grandchild, but even he didn’t always escape her ire. Neither of her children were close to her. Her husband, Lisa’s grandfather, had died when Lisa was barely a month old. Her grandmother had never seemed to need or want anyone, and in the end it seemed, no one wanted her, either.
Lisa was glad that she’d grown up with the influence of her mother. Her mom’s family was so completely different: warm and caring and inclusive. Her mother was there at every recital, every play, every concert, every t-ball or soccer game. Lisa grew up always knowing that she was loved. She doubted that her father or her aunt could say the same thing.
Her warmup over, Lisa kicked into high gear and made her workout count. She finished strong, just as the music on her iPod, perfectly timed, of course, started to slow down. A song she hadn’t heard in a while came on.
Is it all in that pretty little head of yours?
What goes on in that place in the dark?
Well I used to know a girl, and I would have sworn
That her name was Veronica.
Well she used to have a carefree mind of her own
And a delicate look in her eye.
These days, I’m afraid she’s not even sure
If her name is Veronica…
Elvis Costello. She’d always liked that song. She slowed the machine to a stop and wiped it down. Time to do her duty to God and the Queen, she thought to herself.
She didn’t hurry in the shower, or getting dressed. She finished her makeup before grabbing her bag and heading for her car. The nursing home was about 20 minutes away, but she stretched it out, taking side streets, and it was about 30 before she arrived.
Just being in the parking lot was depressing. She had noted, when her parents first brought her there, that it was rather macabre, building a nursing home beside a cemetery. Her father hadn’t been impressed. He told her – again – about all of the wonderful facilities that the home had to better take care of her grandmother. Lisa wondered now how much her grandmother cared about any of those wonderful facilities. At least when she’d first come here, she’d known her own name.
She signed in at the desk and was lead through the locked doors to the wing where her grandmother lived: the wing where all of the potential escapees were. Not that there was much potential for her grandmother to try and escape now.
Lillian sat in a chair, facing the window. The television was on in the corner, but there was no sign that she had any idea it was there. Pictures of Jason and his boys, of Barbara and her children, of her father and mother, and of her, adorned the bulletin board on the wall. Someone, most likely her mother, had taken the time to type out the names of the people in the pictures in large font, and tack them below each photo. The thought that it must be scary being surrounded of pictures of people you can’t recognize occurred to Lisa.
“Hi Grandma,” Lisa said loudly as she went a little further into the room. There was no flicker of recognition. No indication that she had even realized she was being spoken to. Lisa sighed and sat down in another chair. “How are you today?” she asked. No answer.
“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she said, launching into what she knew was going to be a monologue. “Nice and warm. Has anyone taken you outside lately?
“We’re getting close to the end of the school year. My students are starting to go a little stir crazy. They’re good kids, but it always happens at the end of the year. I thought it might take a little longer, though, but then again, most of them are only six or seven, and it’s been a long year for them. I can’t believe that my third year of teaching is almost done. I really like my school, Grandma. The kids are great, mostly, and the parents, too. Of course, there’s always a few who cause problems, but this year there wasn’t anything that major. Well, this one boy, he has really bad ADHD, everyone who’s come into contact with him can see it, and his parents just won’t acknowledge it. He’s a good kid at heart, but he really needs some help, and right now he’s not getting it. They won’t even let us test him. He’s really really smart, but he’s just barely going to get into the third grade next year. By the skin of his teeth, as they say. If they’d just let us get him some help…
“Anyway, everyone at home is good. Mom, Dad, Jason, the boys… Sandra… Adam, he’s my boyfriend, he’s doing really well, too. Just got a promotion at work. He’s in finance – investments and that sort of thing. You’d really like him, Grandma. Very proper, well-educated, well-brought up. Probably not at all who you pictured me with, but maybe I’m not as wild as you thought. I think you’d like him a lot. I should bring him with me next time.”
Lisa paused. She was running out of things to say already, and she’d only been there a few minutes. She couldn’t leave again already, could she? Her grandmother really seemed to have no concept that anyone was in the room with her. Lisa felt another wave of sympathy. It wasn’t right. No one should have to live like this, she thought. She looked at her grandmother’s close-cropped, snow white hair sticking up all over the place, and remembered the way she had worn it before, long and wound around and around in a beautiful chignon. She suddenly wished that it hadn’t been cut. At least if she could brush it for her, it would give her something to do.
At that moment, an orderly brought in her lunch tray. “Oh, hello,” he said. “I didn’t know that Lily had a visitor.” Lisa smiled at the nickname. She had rarely heard her stuffy grandmother called anything but her formal name.
“I’m her granddaughter, Lisa,” she said by way of introduction. “I can go, if I’m in the way…” She secretly hoped that he would want her to leave.
“No, no, of course not. She’ll likely eat better when she has some company,” he told her. “She hasn’t had much of an appetite lately.”
Lisa bit her lower lip. She hadn’t intended to stay much longer, and she didn’t know anything about getting her grandmother to eat. She didn’t want to admit to this man that she knew nothing about her grandmother’s care, though. She nodded and brought her chair closer.
Whether she wanted him to know or not, though, he seemed to, and he started to help her find the food on her plate. “Here you go Lily,” he said gently. “Some nice fresh green beans today. I picked them especially for you.”
Lillian’s eyes darted towards him as he spoke. “Walter?” she asked, her voice a mere croak.
The word startled Lisa. The very fact that her grandmother had spoken at all was shocking, but she thought that the orderly was her husband? Her husband who had been dead for 26 years?
“No, no Lily,” the orderly said. “Not Walter. But Walter will be here soon, he told me, and he said to tell you that it was VERY important to him that you try and eat your lunch, okay?”
Her grandmother opened her mouth for a forkful of food. She chewed slowly, as if every bite took concentration. He helped her take a few bites, and then turned to hand the fork to Lisa. “Lisa is going to help you finish your lunch now, all right?” he asked. There was no response. The orderly smiled at her and then went on his way.
“Wait!” she called after him. “How long does it usually take her to eat?” she asked.
He shrugged. “That depends on how much she’s willing to eat. I suspect that since Walter wants her to, she may eat more today than usual. That’s good.”
Lisa put the fork up to her grandmother’s lips. Good for whom? she thought, but she waited there, forkful after forkful, while her grandmother ate. She couldn’t help but think about that one word: “Walter.” She hadn’t heard her grandmother’s voice in over two years. She hadn’t thought there were any thoughts at all behind those cloudy eyes. Now she supposed that there must be a glimmer of the person that she once was, in there.
What goes on in that place in the dark?
These days I’m afraid, she’s not even sure
If her name is Veronica…
What goes on in there? she wondered. Is there really nothing anymore? Is it all gone? Or is it all there, just buried so deep that no one can find it? If Walter were here, would you know him? Are you really just a shell that used to be Lillian Scott-Walker-Sullivan? Or is Lily in there?
Her grandmother closed her mouth tightly against the fork. “Don’t you want any more?” Lisa asked. No response, the lips pursed. Lisa picked up another forkful of food, curious. “Walter really wanted you to finish your lunch, Lily,” she said, wondering if there would be any response. The lips softened, but didn’t open. The eyes were staring through her at the wall behind. “Lily?” she asked again. No response.
Lisa put the fork down on the plate and sighed. “Don’t worry,” she said gently. “Walter will be here soon.”
Was there a flash of recognition? She could’ve sworn there was a twinkle, albeit a brief one, in her grandmother’s eye. Now, though, there was nothing. “What do you think about?” she asked out loud. I think there’s more in there than you’re telling us. I kind of think that you hear us, you’re just ignoring us. Somehow that wouldn’t surprise me.”
There! she thought. I’m sure it was there, but now it’s gone again. What’s really going on in there?
But Lillian was as silent as ever.
September 6, 2008 10:56am
I took another big break from writing in here, didn’t I? It just didn’t feel necessary. I’ve been too busy enjoying life to write about it. There hasn’t been anything out of the ordinary happening – the new normal, I guess. We’ve been moving on, same as always. We’ve been checking out each new town, and I’ve gone to the club with him a few nights, and stayed back a few nights, depending on what I feel like doing.
Things are still WONDERFUL between us. We still haven’t had sex, and he’s not pushing me about it. We sometimes share a bed now, but we just cuddle and sleep, and if I get uncomfortable with it, I just move over to the other bed and sleep the rest of the night there. I know he wants to, and sometimes in the middle of the night I can feel him against me, but he seems to just sense that I want to wait, and so he doesn’t ask about it. His kisses are sooooo sexy, though. I’d forgotten just how sensual a really good kiss can be. It can be like just barely brushing up against silk with your bare skin one moment, and the next it’s like you’re being swallowed whole. I love how unexpected his kisses are. I never know whether they’ll be gentle or whether it’s going to be so passionate that I’m not sure he’ll be able to hold himself back.
We go for long walks, holding hands or with his arm around me. I can’t believe how wonderful this all is. I swear, some days it’s like living in a romance novel. Finally, something good is happening to me.
July 20, 2008 8:18pm
I haven’t felt this settled in a long time, and I’ve only been here a few days. It’s amazing how quickly we’ve gotten into a routine. In the morning, I get up at 5am to go over to the restaurant with Margaret and Brian, and help get things set up for breakfast. They open at 6am; the breakfast rush pretty much goes until about 9am. Then I take care of any customers that come in between 9 and when the lunch rush starts around 11:30 while Brian cleans up and Margaret gets the baking done for the rest of the day. I take a break for a few hours in the afternoon and Margaret and I usually switch off who looks after the dinner hour, although on the weekend we decided that we’ll switch off at lunch and both be there for dinner instead.
It was really hard at first, but I’ve gotten better at it. I didn’t break any dishes at all today! *HAPPY DANCE* I’m exhausted, though. I can’t understand how Margaret did it all these years by herself. She must never sleep more than a few hours a night as it is. The first night that I stayed during dinner and she got to go home she said she had no idea what to do with herself. Apparently she spent the night watching Jeopardy and bad reality shows, but she wasn’t impressed. She said she’s going to have to find herself a hobby.
Working in a small-town restaurant you end up seeing a lot of the same people every day. Of course, Rocklake is a town of only a couple of thousand, so I suppose you’d run out of people to eat in the restaurant eventually if you didn’t, and it’s not like there’s a lot of choices when people do want to go out to eat.
There’s this one older man, Howard, who comes in for breakfast, lunch and dinner every single day. Margaret told me that he’s a widower, and basically just has no idea how to cook. He’s almost eighty, too. It’s really pretty sad. He’s a very nice man. He’s obviously really lonely, too. He likes to talk. Some mornings he just stays after breakfast, right until lunch. I don’t mind and apparently he’s done it for a long time. It’s so nice to have someone to talk to. Even with Margaret and Brian around all of the time, I’m kind of lonely myself.
I wish I could tell Howard everything that’s going on, and how and why I ended up here. We talk a lot, and he tells me all about his family, but he listens as much as he talks, and I feel like he’d understand. He’s like the perfect grandfather. He has this driving cap that he wears all of the time, but he is very diligent about taking it off as soon as he sits down at the table. As soon as he stands up, the hat goes back on. It’s kind of quaint. Something Mom would approve of, for sure! One thing Mom could never stand about Steve was when he wouldn’t take his baseball cap off at the table.
Maybe one day I’ll tell Howard what’s really going on. I think he’d believe me, and I think he’d understand why I’ve done everything I have. Until then, I just listen to him talk, and other than that we make small talk, but it’s still nice. Sometimes lost souls just need each other, I guess.
July 22, 2008 5:09pm
I ended up not going back to the house after lunch today. I decided to stay and help Margaret with the baking. I’ve never been a very good cook, and I’ve never tried to make a pie in my life. Margaret makes everything from scratch. She prepares the pastry in advance and freezes it, so we didn’t do that, but she said the next time she’s making pastry she’ll show me how. For today we were just filling the pies (and the filing was pretty much already made, too) and baking them. She made up a few cakes, too, but the pies are what really sell. Almost everyone who comes in for lunch and dinner ends up having a slice of pie. She makes about 20 pies a day, and she always has at least 5 or 6 different kinds of pie every day. Today was apple, cherry, peach, lemon meringue, strawberry rhubarb and bumbleberry.
It just felt so NORMAL, standing there with Margaret, filling pie shells. She showed me how to put the top crust on and press it down with my thumb. People are eating pie with my thumbprint on it; for some reason that just makes me giggle. And I had no idea how to make meringue before this, either. Not that I’m very good at it now, either, but at least I have a vague idea. I don’t think Margaret’s going to be letting me do it on my own anytime soon, though!
It’s not my night to do the dinner service, so I headed back to the house after we finished. I took a piece of peach pie to have with my dinner. I bet it’ll be the best pie I’ve ever had. How could it not be, with my thumbprint on it, right? Ha!
July 24, 2008 1:42pm
I feel like I’m fitting in here better than I have anywhere else, ever. I don’t understand it at all, because I’m in IOWA, of all places, but it’s like this is the place that I’ve been looking for all along. It’s such a tranquil life here. There’s no stress, no rat race. No one lives crammed into apartment buildings where your neighbour watches you go in and out, and you have to see, hear and SMELL other people constantly. No one has to worry about catching the subway, or missing a commuter train. They just ARE. They get up, go to work, go home and spend time with their families. It’s like heaven or something.
There are people living here who have barely ever been anywhere outside of this town, and I don’t think they realize how lucky they are: to not have to deal with the corporate rat race (not that I know anything about that, but neither do most of these people); to have none of the stress of city life at all. They just seem CONTENT. Maybe it’s all an illusion, but it sure doesn’t seem like it to me.
I wonder if Aidan would consider coming here with me, once I find him. I honestly think my life would be complete if that happened. Then again, maybe the town where he lives is like this, too. Maybe he’s found a paradise of his own, and he’s just waiting for me to join him.
July 13, 2008 9:13pm
I made my way into the nearest town and found a discount shop. I bought a really cheap sleeping bag, a little flashlight, and a big bag of chips and some bottled water, but it was still a lot of money, considering how little I have. Still, I suspect I’m going to need the sleeping bag and flashlight more than just tonight.
It’s a nice night. It’s funny: I can see lights on the highway, but it’s still nothing like what I’m used to seeing in Toronto. I can really see the stars from where I am now, even through the trees. It’s not too chilly, which is good. It’s a good thing that I started this trip in the summer, rather than in the middle of winter. I probably would have frozen to death tonight. I’d be a Tarasicle! Stupid joke, I know. Just keeping my mind occupied, and if stupid jokes work, so be it. I want to just keep writing. It feels less lonely with someone to “talk” to, even if it’s just a spiral notebook.
I should get some sleep, though. It’s getting late now. Besides, if I can sleep, maybe I won’t notice how hungry I am. Tomorrow morning I’ll just get right out at first light. I’ll worry about food later.
I wonder what Aidan is doing tonight.
July 13, 11:49pm
I can’t sleep. I’m tired, but I can’t sleep. I thought sleeping on a crappy mattress on the floor was uncomfortable, but this is ridiculous. This is why I never went camping.
I just need to think about other things until I get so sleepy that I can’t stay awake no matter how uncomfortable I am. I need to think of something nice… nice memories… like spending time with Aidan and his family. Once I got used to how different they were from what I was used to, I really loved it.
Other than Aidan, of course, Aaron was always my biggest supporter. He was a lot older than me – or at least at the time it felt that way – but he never made me feel young and stupid. Sometimes we didn’t have much in common, but I knew he was always looking out for me. It kind of felt like having a big brother of my own.
Even though Bev was always polite to me, and never mean or anything, I knew that she was suspicious. She had good reason to be somewhat mistrustful of people: her boys were surrounded all the time, by some good people, and some not-so-good, and sometimes it was really hard to tell whether people were sincere or not. I know I had a hard time with it. I don’t blame her for lumping me in with all of the rest of them, at first, anyway. Maybe she always did. Maybe it’s a good thing that I couldn’t find her. Maybe she would’ve just turned me away, and never even told Aidan that she’d seen me.
No, I don’t think she would’ve done that. She did eventually warm up to me, and I think maybe she even loved me – well, liked at least – but I owe most of that to Aaron. He was truly “mom’s boy” (I would NEVER say “momma’s boy” – that’s not the case at all!) and she really respected his opinion, even at his young age. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Aidan just as much, but he was a younger, a little wilder, more of a dreamer. Aaron was always the one who would sit down and have long talks with his mom, about just about anything. He was the one who would help her in the kitchen without being asked. He was kind of wise beyond his years, to use a cliché. I think a lot of it had to do with their dad dying when they were so young. He grew up fast, and Idol Hands just sped things up even more for him.
I know he talked to Bev about me, and I have no doubt that he defended my honour. He had talked to me enough that he knew me, and knew that I would NEVER do anything to hurt his brother. He liked me just for that, but we also were able to have long talks about other things, which sometimes surprised me given our age difference. That was the thing about Aaron – he could talk to anyone about anything. Despite his reputation for being the shy, quiet one, he was probably the most well-adjusted guy you’d ever meet. He never said anything purposely hurtful about anyone, but at the same time, you knew he’d be honest with you. He just wasn’t mean about it. If you’re being an ass, you can bet that Aaron is going to tell you about it – he’ll just cushion the blow. As much as Aidan’s absence from my life is the key to all of this, I really miss Aaron. Having him around really did make me feel like I had an older brother. I can’t wait to see him again.
I wonder if Bev has ever thought about me over the years, or if she thought I just kind of disappeared. I wonder what Aidan said about our breakup. Did she tell him he was an idiot for letting me go, or was she secretly – or not so secretly – relieved? Considering the way that my mother talked about Aidan when he wasn’t around, who knows what Bev really thought of me, especially after Aidan and I broke up. Hopefully she didn’t think badly of me. I don’t think I ever did anything that should have made her think that way. I wonder what she’ll think of me suddenly reappearing. I hope she’ll think it’s a good thing. At least I’m sure I’ll have Aaron to look out for me again.
Okay, now I’m sleepy. I don’t even care about the lumpy ground underneath me. I just need to close my eyes.
July 14, 2008 11:23am
I got up and was out there at the crack of dawn, but I spent four hours out there and no one picked me up. Cars just kept speeding past me like I wasn’t even there. I just couldn’t take it anymore; I had to get something to eat. I was feeling so faint from the sun, and the lack of food. I’ll go back out there after lunch, but I think I’d better pick up some sunscreen. This sucks. I’m going to run out of money before I get anywhere near California. I don’t even want to think about that.
July 14, 2008 4:29pm
After lunch, I finally lucked out again. This trucker named Dave picked me up, and he was going all the way to Des Moines, Iowa. He says that’s about 7 hours away. He’s not all that talkative, but I can tell he’s safe. He’s not worrying me at all. I’m just sitting and writing, and I even got a bit of sleep.
I dreamed about Aidan, and when Mom finally let up and decided I could go on tour with him for two whole months, over the summer. It was the best time of my life, but it was when I realized just how hard it was going to be for both of us.
I’d spent the months before that summer feeling just completely awful – so depressed. Christmas had been wonderful. I went again over my March Break, just for a few days. After that, we just couldn’t get our schedules together. Aidan offered to come for a few days in between tour dates, but it was during the week and Mom said no. After that I just didn’t care anymore. I skipped class more than I went. I came home and slept, or else just didn’t come home at all. We talked as much as we could, but it just wasn’t enough anymore. We’d been together for over a year but barely spent any time in person at all. I knew I was in love, and I knew he loved me, but I needed to BE with him.
That was why Mom finally gave in and let me spend the summer with him. His mom, and tons of other people, would be around, and I was almost 18 by then, so she knew she could either let me go for the summer, or risk me taking off for good in a few months if she held on too tightly. She really wanted me to finish my last year of high school, and I know she was getting nervous that I was going to drop out to be with him. In retrospect, of course, she was right, I suppose, but at the time all I was thinking about was two straight months with Aidan.
None of the guys knew how long they had, career-wise: the shelf life of a “boy band” – or any teen idol – tends not to be very long. When you think of musical longevity, you might think of the Rolling Stones, but probably not the Bay City Rollers or Debbie Gibson. Aidan and I talked about it sometimes. He had big plans for a solo career eventually, but he didn’t want to leave the guys, either, and as long as he was part of the group, he needed to appear single. He needed to be the “dream date”. He needed every girl reading Tiger Beat magazine to believe him when he wrote some nonsense about his “ideal date” and dream about what it would be like to be there with him.
I spent most of those two months on tour hiding: being brought into the hotel away from everyone connected to the tour; hiding in our hotel room; watching television while he was onstage singing for 20,000 fans. It was easier to wait at the hotel, and to be honest I preferred it, but if they were leaving directly after a show, it wasn’t possible. Even though it sounds glamorous, hanging out backstage was always scary, because I had to “blend in” and sometimes it just couldn’t be done. There was always someone from the venue who didn’t know who I was, or who I was “supposed to be” (“Cousin” Tara, was still the usual story) who would look at me like I was some chick who snuck backstage with a faked pass and needed to be thrown out by security. I was always freaking out, thinking I was going to mess up and ruin everything. Aidan was really good about it, but realistically I knew it was on my shoulders.
He used to apologize to me all the time. I knew that bands like Idol Hands had been wrecked by stupider things before. We’d lie in bed together – still just “sleeping” much to my dismay (sometimes he even slept on top of the blankets) – and he’d hold me and tell me that someday things would be different. We used to talk about all the things we’d do once it didn’t matter anymore: vacations, shopping in the mall, going to movies… normal couple things. We talked about all of the places that he wanted to go back and see when he could actually see more than the view from his hotel room or the window of the bus. People didn’t believe them when they said it wasn’t as exciting as it seemed, and they didn’t get to really SEE anywhere they toured, but it was true. You could ask them what they liked best about any particular city or country and they usually had to give answers that their publicists had supplied, because they honestly couldn’t answer truthfully. The answer they would’ve really given would likely have been, “Well, I’m especially enjoying the vending machine in our dressing room at the venue.” Aidan especially wanted us to go on vacation in Hawaii. He’d have his solo career, and I’d get to go to awards shows and parties with him. He talked about how proud he’d be to finally have me beside him.
Then the next morning, we’d sleep in, except when he had to go do publicity and stuff. They were such night owls, because they’d get way too wound up after shows to be able to sleep. I know sometimes I’d fall asleep long before he ever did, and I could usually hang in there until 2 or 3 in the morning without trying. I’d wake up next to him the next day and not be able to believe that he was actually there.
Sneaking on to the bus was always the hardest part. Hotels weren’t so bad. As long as I didn’t come in with anyone connected to the tour, I was just another hotel guest. If anyone else was on the elevator, though, I’d have to go to another floor, get off and get back on until I was by myself, or else use the stairs. Because inevitably people knew which floor they were on by the massive amount of security.
But the bus…
Aidan and Aaron had their own bus, and Sam, Sean and Andy shared the other bus. I guess it sort of depended who was there, and sometimes who was pissed at whom. At one point Sam had been on the bus with Aidan and Aaron, but he had moved over to Sean and Andy’s bus. If Aidan and Aaron were fighting, one of them might end up on the other bus for a while. When we were traveling during the day it didn’t really matter who was where anyway. It was only at night, for sleeping. I usually would sneak on to the bus about mid-way through the concert. There were less people around outside that way. They had a janitorial uniform that I used to put on, with my hair under a baseball cap. I’d pretend I was going out to clean the buses for them. It seemed to satisfy the fans who were out there. I’m sure some of them noticed that I never came back OFF the bus, but not enough to cause any kind of fuss, of course. They were too busy waiting for a glimpse of anyone connected to the group.
Funny – traveling on the bus was a lot like the drive I’m doing right now with Dave the trucker. Except of course that Dave isn’t handsome, rich or famous, and I’m not madly in love with him. And the bus was a whole hell of a lot more comfortable than this. But you know, other than that, it’s practically identical. HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA… man, I could use a drink right now. I wonder if Dave’s got a mickey stashed somewhere in the truck? Not a very comforting thought, though. Guess the drink will have to wait.
June 17, 2008 4:10am
I’m trying to calm down. So far, it’s not working. It’s 4am and I can’t stop shaking. I’m such a wreck that my teeth have actually started chattering. It’s like post-traumatic stress or something. Good thing I don’t have to work until the afternoon shift. Maybe after Steve leaves for work in a few hours I can sort things out and then maybe even get some sleep. Maybe I don’t have to work today after all? I should go and look at the calendar. I’m just all over the place right now. I hope Steve doesn’t notice.
Who am I kidding? Steve doesn’t notice anything. I could come home wearing a dancing tabby cat on my head and he wouldn’t even ask if I’d done something different to my hair.
I think I’m almost kind of sleepy. Maybe I should go to bed. Sleep would help, right? Everyone always says that things will make more sense “in the morning.” Of course, it’s almost morning now… Oh shit. Now I’m just rambling. I need to stop thinking about this.
Put the pen DOWN, Tara… okay, I’m putting the pen down, I’m going to lock up this journal, and then I’m going to bed, and when I wake up, everything will be different. There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like…
June 17, 2008 10:52am
I did go to sleep. I don’t even remember Steve leaving for work. It turns out that I do have to work, and I only have a few hours until I have to go, but now that I’m awake again, I’m just as confused as ever.
I couldn’t sleep… again. Steve had been in bed snoring away for hours and I ended up in the living room watching that stupid TV. I flipped channels for a while, and then I came across “Real Hollywood Story”. It was about Idol Hands.
I had to watch, I mean, how could I NOT watch? It was the weirdest thing – so surreal. My eyes were glued to the screen the whole time. It brought back so many memories. Things I haven’t thought of in YEARS.
So I’m watching, and I’m feeling all nostalgic, and a little sad, and then it just happens. I had to use the DVR to rewind because I couldn’t believe what I’d heard.
Aidan said he still loves me.
It was all so long ago. It feels like another lifetime. It can’t POSSIBLY have been me, can it? How does someone go from being the girlfriend of a member of one of the biggest boy bands ever, to living in a rat hole apartment with a husband so STUPID that he buys a TV instead of a house?
I must be delusional again. Maybe exhaustion is causing me to hallucinate? I know it’s not, though: I watched that same damned 30 seconds on the DVR about 50 times already. It really did happen, and he really did say it.
Memories are just… my whole mind is jumbled up right now.
I still remember the first time I heard them sing: it was on “Red Hot Music,” and it was part of “Mel’s Pick”, where she always showed a video by a new band, or someone making a comeback, or something like that – something that she wanted to highlight for whatever reason. I just remember thinking that it was the BEST song I’d ever heard. I didn’t even think about what they looked like. It was kind of hard to tell in that video anyway. Kind of strange, now that I think about it.
As soon as the show was over, I wanted to hear the song again, but no one was playing it. I went out a couple of days later to look for the album. No one at the record store had ANY idea who I was talking about. I finally found it, though. I listened to it non-stop for weeks, until I almost wore out the cassette (yes, I really AM that old…) I started seeing tiny pictures and miniscule articles about them in the teenybopper magazines, but it was nothing like later on. Maybe more people had heard about them in the US at that point, but in my little city, they weren’t even a blip on the pop culture radar. I swear I must have been the only one who saw the video on TV that day.
Finally, a few months later I started hearing them once in a while on the radio, but they still weren’t all that popular. And then it happened. CKWY had a contest to meet them.
I never win anything, and I have never won another radio contest since then, and I probably never will again, but that one I did win. I sat with the telephone and redialed my heart out until I heard that voice on the other end asking my name. It was just meant to be, I think. I had to win it; nothing in my life was ever the same after that.
Since I was a minor, my mom had to go with me, but she just stayed out of the way, talking to some of the other moms that were there. I think they were all commiserating about their daughters’ obsession. She had no interest in a bunch of teenage guys, and was never exactly the type to indulge my teenage fixations. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to be taking me there in the first place, but I’d threatened to paint my bedroom black and start listening to death metal. That was enough to sway her into thinking that a few hours of her time was worth it.
We were supposed to have dinner together, while they were in Toronto doing promotion. That’s how you know that they hadn’t gotten as big yet. Can you imagine that ever happening later? In the later “meet and greet” sessions the fans were lucky to get 30 seconds or a minute with them. Maybe an autograph, and, if they were really lucky, a picture and a hug.
I spent close to two hours in a private room at that restaurant, just me and them. Well, and their managers… and my mom… Okay, actually there were four other girls and THEIR moms there, too, but honestly, in my memory they weren’t even there. Ha! We hit it off right away, even with those other girls there. They were all fawning and gooey. It kind of made me sick to my stomach. I think at least one of them had never even heard one of their songs. She kept saying stupid things, and I could see them snickering at each other and making funny faces behind her back every time she spoke.
I guess maybe because they hadn’t become super-famous yet, it just felt like a group of friends having dinner – five guys and five girls. They still seemed so NORMAL. They were touring around, being interviewed, doing small concerts in little venues, and just having fun. In their minds, that was as good as it got. They had no idea what their lives were about to become.
I wish I could remember what kind of things we talked about, but I can’t anymore. It must have been typical teenage kind of stuff: movies, music, that kind of thing. I remember Aidan asking if I had a boyfriend, but it was just kind of in passing. Maybe all of the girls got asked that at some point. I kind of thought he was just making fun of me, so I blushed and let it go, but now I really wish that I could remember every word spoken, every look, every detail of that night. Shouldn’t it be a prerequisite to remember everything that happens on a night that changes your life forever?
We sat there for a couple of hours, but then their managers told them they had to go. They had another appearance to go to. They apologized to me – okay, to all five of the girls there – and said they wished they could stay. When I left the restaurant I felt like I was floating on air. My mom kept trying to talk to me, and had to repeat herself over and over again, because I just didn’t hear a word she said.
When we got home, though, I crashed back down to earth: I was never going to talk to them again. Even though part of me wanted to just keep reliving the whole night in my mind, I knew that the next day I had to get up, go to school, listen to my teachers (or at least pretend to), deal with homework, and listen to my friends talk about things that now seemed completely unimportant. In short: it sucked.
How I managed to get through the next few days I have no idea. I was bored out of my skull. I wasn’t hearing Mr. Renwick talking about the history of the FLQ crisis in Quebec, I was thinking of the joke that Sean told, or when Andy started serenading me at the table. How could I concentrate on French vocabulary tests when I could be picturing everything that they ate and drank? And more and more I found myself dreaming about Aidan.
The really weird thing was that even after I started listening to their music, I didn’t really think about their looks. I know that sounds really cheesy, and every girl probably says that, but it was true. I mean, I didn’t think of them as “Oh, he’s SO gorgeous! I should listen to their music.” I knew they weren’t repulsive or anything, but it wasn’t what drew me to them in the first place.
So it wasn’t until after that night that I really started thinking about them – specifically Aidan – THAT way. I was getting really depressed, though, because I was having these feelings all of a sudden, and they were for someone I knew I was never going to see again, and who I thought would never think of me the way that I thought of him. I was sure that I had left his mind the moment he left the restaurant.
Or at least that was what I thought… (*insert suspenseful music here* LOL)
About a week after our dinner “date”, I was sitting and watching TV at night. My mom was hounding me about my homework; I was ignoring her. The phone rang and I didn’t even bother to go and get it. I was being a typical sulky teenager, I guess, magnified by my current woes about Aidan. Mom called downstairs to tell me that it was for me. “Tell whoever it is that I’ll call them back!” I yelled up.
“I think you’ll want to take this,” she yelled back. Looking back, I’m surprised that she didn’t tell him that I wasn’t home and hang up. I bet later she wished that she had.
“Mom, I don’t want to talk to anyone tonight!” I told her.
“I really think you should take it,” she said.
“Fine!” I rolled my eyes, but I went over and grabbed the downstairs extension. “I’ve got it,” I told my mom. I heard the click, and then I waited.
“Tara?” a voice on the other end asked. I started to shake a little bit. I knew that voice right away: it had been in every one of my dreams for a week now.
“Yes?” I said. I was afraid to say the name of the voice, in case I was wrong.
“It’s Aidan…” there was a pause… “Aidan Forrest.” As if there could honestly be any doubt in my mind. My palms were sweating so badly that I could barely hold the phone. My heart started racing, and I slid my back down the wall, ending up sitting on the floor beside the phone, just in case I actually passed out.
“Aidan… hi!” I said, trying NOT to sound like I was about to faint, and hoping that I hadn’t lost the ability to speak. My voice came out in a squeak, though. “How did you get my number?”
“I had my manager get it from the radio station… I hope that’s okay,” he suddenly sounded very embarrassed and shy. I was DYING!
“Of course it’s okay,” I told him hurriedly. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was upset at him for calling. “I’m glad you called.”
There was another pause. “I had a really good time with you at dinner the other night,” he told me. I told him that I had, too.
I was twisting my finger in the phone cord, trying not to jump out of my own skin. My stomach was twisting into knots. Suddenly all I could think of was that I wasn’t wearing any make up and I had my glasses on instead of my contact lenses, and I was sitting there in boxer shorts and a tank top. Then I started thinking how stupid that was, because I was on the phone and he couldn’t see me anyway, and then I remembered that I was actually ON the phone and was probably missing something that Aidan was saying. I quickly realized that I had, in fact, missed something, and even though I was completely embarrassed, I had to ask him to repeat himself.
“Uh…” he sounded embarrassed now. “I guess I was just wondering if you’d mind if I called you sometimes… you know, when I can… I mean, this is weird I know, but we’re on this publicity tour for a while yet, so I can’t exactly come and see you… but I just want to get to know you a little better… you know… if it’s okay…”
“IF IT’S OKAY? OF COURSE IT’S OKAY!” I wanted to scream, but of course I didn’t do that. I told him that I’d like it if he called again. It was one of the most awkward conversations that I’ve ever had in my life. We were both so shy about it that I’m surprised we managed to say anything at all. That night, though, we managed to talk for about an hour, until he had to go, but he gave me a time the next day that he should be able to call again.
For the next month, he called as often as he could. Not always every day, but he tried. Sometimes it was only for five minutes, but sometimes we talked for an hour, sometimes longer, depending on what their schedule was like. And every time we finished a call, he’d tell me when he thought he might be able to call the next time. Their lives were already so structured that he knew down to the minute where he was going to be.
Then they released “Tough Girl” and everything just EXPLODED. Suddenly everyone knew who they were, and their pictures were in half of the female lockers in my high school. Guys were always putting them down, and making comments about how they wanted to beat them up. So mature. I knew they were idiots, but I still hated hearing it, especially since all I could really do was ignore them. Some girls knew that I had met them, and were constantly trying to pump me for information, but I kept pretty much everything but the basics to myself. I acted like I hadn’t really had much of a chance to talk to them.
Aidan was really embarrassed by it, but he had been upfront with me right in that first conversation: his managers didn’t want me to talk about our phone calls with my friends or anyone else. He kept saying that he was sorry, but it was all about image. All about making it seem like the girls who were screaming for them could actually BE their girlfriends. He didn’t say specifically at first that I was his girlfriend – it was a difficult thing, when we could never see each other in person – but after a while we both just knew it. He told me that no matter how many screaming girls there were, it was only me that he cared about. He would’ve killed me for telling anyone he said this, but I remember him saying, “They can scream and cry all they want, but it’s you that I go to bed dreaming about.”
It was hard, but I believed him. As time went on, we got really close, and it became easier for us to talk about how we really felt about each other. It seems impossible to believe, but after meeting in person only once, and just talking on the phone, we were already falling in love. It may have been a teenage kind of love, but it was still love. No one will ever convince me otherwise.
He told me that as soon as he got a few days off he wanted to come and see me again, or he’d fly me to see him. It seemed like that was never going to happen, though. I couldn’t imagine my mom ever letting me fly off to hang out with a rock star, and I couldn’t see him hanging out at my house, either.
Idol Hands announced a big concert tour after that. The tiny clubs they had been performing in were selling out really quickly, and security was finding it harder and harder to keep them – and the crowds of girls – safe in such small venues. Some of the smaller dates were moved to larger venues, partly so that they could sell more tickets, and partly for safety.
The tour was initially scheduled to be three months long, but they’d been told that if it was still going well it would probably go longer. A LOT longer. They couldn’t possibly have known just HOW long it would be, though. The whirlwind was starting, and all they could do was ride it out.
The great thing was that they were scheduled to play in Toronto just a few weeks into the tour. They were going into rehearsals for a month, because they were putting together a completely different show more suited to the arenas and stadiums, but then the tour would start. There would even be a couple of days off after the Toronto show before they had to be in Philadelphia for the next stop. We were going to be able to see each other, finally.
It was really weird, feeling like I was in a relationship with someone I hadn’t seen in months, and in fact, someone I’d met in person only once. I was going crazy to see him again, and at the same time, I was terrified to see him, and find out that I was imagining things, and that he really just wanted to be friends, and liked talking to me on the phone. Maybe he just wanted someone to hang out with between shows?
The time dragged on and on and on. By the time the tour started, I was about to explode. I wasn’t paying attention at all in school, and all I could think about was those few days that were coming up way too quickly, and far too slowly all at the same time. I was a nervous wreck. I used to have a habit of chewing on the skin around my fingers when I got stressed or nervous (gross, I know) and my fingers were constantly bleeding from it. I had to bandage them up to keep myself from doing it.
Finally, the day of the concert came. He sent me a ticket and told me that he’d send someone out to get me after, rather than sending a pass. The show was AMAZING. I couldn’t believe how far they’d come in such a short time. The screams in the arena were absolutely deafening. Watching them perform, I was so proud of him. It felt weird watching them by myself. I felt like I stood out like a sore thumb, surrounded by groups of girls. I wanted to be able to turn to everyone around me and say, “See Aidan up there? That’s my boyfriend!” but of course I couldn’t.
Just before the last encore, a woman came out, tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was Tara. I said yes, and she motioned for me to come along with her. The girls around me were so enraptured with what was happening on the stage that they didn’t even notice. I followed her out of the audience, into the halls. She quietly handed me a backstage pass and told me to put it on. It said STAFF on it.
Even though the show wasn’t over yet, there were already girls standing at the entrance to the backstage area, yelling and shoving and trying to get the guards to let them through. I don’t know what they thought would happen if they DID get through. In all of their hysteria, they probably hadn’t even thought of that part. The woman confidently made her way through the crowd as security loudly said to let us through. I didn’t want it to be obvious how nervous I was, so I tried really hard not to look anyone in the eye at all, and just look forward. Someone grabbed at me and tried to pull me backwards by my hair, but the security guard took care of it pretty quickly, and I ducked through the doors.
When we got through the entrance, I took a deep breath. I was so nervous I thought I was going to be sick; my head sort of hurt from where that girl had pulled my hair; I was dizzy from being so crowded in. There were people EVERYWHERE (although it was nowhere near as crazy as out in that hallway), but she took me into a room by myself. At first I thought I wouldn’t be there long, so it wasn’t that big of a deal, but then time really started dragging on. There was a television, but it was on the news, and I couldn’t figure out how to change the channel. I waited, and waited and waited. There were some couches, and the later it got, the sleepier I started to get, and eventually I fell asleep.
I woke up to someone’s hand brushing my hair off my face. It took me a few seconds to realize that I wasn’t dreaming, and I smiled when I finally saw him there beside me. “What time is it?” I asked.
“It’s 2am,” he told me. “I’m really sorry. There was just a whole bunch of stuff going on after the show. I tried to get word to you, but by the time Louisa got back here you were already asleep, so she decided to just let you rest.”
I sat up, hoping my make up wasn’t completely smudged off my face, and tried to smooth out what I assumed was my messed-up hair with my hand. I suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. He sat down beside me. “I can’t believe you’re actually here,” he said shyly.
“I can’t either,” I replied. “I didn’t think today was ever going to come.” Just seeing him there, my heart felt like it was swelling right out of my chest and I thought I would start to cry.
Before I could, though, he leaned in and kissed me. Months of pent-up feelings and teenage hormonal frustrations came out in that kiss. I don’t even know how long we were there. I just remember a knock at the door, and realizing that his hand was under my shirt, and I didn’t care. I was just annoyed at the damn knocking. I wanted to stay there on that couch with him forever.
When the knocking didn’t stop, Aidan pulled away from me reluctantly and went to answer the door. I wasn’t sure what I should do, whether to try and hide or something, but after he looked out he opened the door up and a big, muscle-bound man walked in. I recognized him as one of the bodyguards I’d seen in photos and videos in the past few months. Even their security guards were getting famous. They’d had some security with them when we met, but nothing big. Things had changed a lot since then.
“The cars are ready,” he said to Aidan, ignoring me completely. “Andy, Sean and Aaron are gone. You’re next, and then Sam will go last.”
“We’re all going in separate cars, just to try and throw people off the track,” Aidan explained. “A couple of the guys are going home for the time off, and Andy’s going on ahead to Montreal. I’m coming with you, of course,” he said, grinning at me. I could feel myself blushing.
Getting out of there was just plain crazy, but
SHIT! I’m late for work!
May 30, 2008 11:03pm
Made the appointment with Angela from the bank today. We go on Thursday. I can’t wait!!! It’s been such a long wait for this!
June 1, 2008 9:15pm
Reason #462 why I hate apartment living: Having to smell everyone else’s dinner as I walk down the hall, no matter how disgusting said dinner might be. Seriously Mrs. Weird-Lady-Who-Stares-at-Us- Through-the-Doorway-When-She-Thinks-We’re-Not-Looking: lay off the garlic!
I spent nearly an hour at Home Depot today, looking at paint colours. I don’t even have any idea what kind of house we’re going to buy, but I already know what I want our master bedroom, and our living room to look like. I want our master bedroom to be this nice bright blue, with white trim. I know a lot of people will probably think it’s too bright for a bedroom, but I don’t care: it’ll be MY house and I can do anything I want with it! Wooooo!!!!!!!! And truthfully, if I thought I could get away with it, I’d paint rooms to look like they were straight out of a crayon box. I hate dark colours. Depressing. I can’t stand pastels, either. All washed out like there’s no life in them. Who wants to live like that? Most of the population, I suppose, since I seem to be in the minority on this. I want bright, cheerful colours around me all of the time!
Still, I’m so excited!!! I can’t wait to be out of this stupid apartment. No more carting groceries from one end of the parking lot to the elevator, and then all the way to the end of our hallway. No more smelling other people’s weed coming out of the “party room”! No more melted elevator buttons because someone thought it was “funny” to use a cigarette lighter to destroy them all. No more pee in the stairwells!
I wish we could afford to get some new furniture when we move, but I guess that will come. I’ll live on lawn furniture if I have to. Once we actually have a home of our own, we have the rest of our lives to work on it and make it perfect. I think that’s what I’m looking forward to the most: getting to play with paint, and colours, and furniture. Then, when a baby comes, getting to design a nursery. Maybe with bright green froggies. I like frogs! A nice, comfy, white rocking chair, too. I can’t wait to sit in the bright (blue? I heard yellow causes babies to be fussy), frog-laden nursery, rocking a tiny baby to sleep, in a nicely-padded, white rocking chair. I swear that’s all I want out of life right now. Doesn’t it sound perfect?
I know that some people do all of this in an apartment. There
are tons of people here who have decorated their apartments to the hilt. Some of them should never have been allowed near a fabric store (seriously people: STOP with the fabric draping all over the walls!) They don’t live with plain old white walls for years on end, but I could never bring myself to decorate here. It wasn’t MINE to decorate. It was all so transient. An apartment could be gone at any time. I know we have a lease, and it’s not like we could just be kicked out, but what if at the end of the lease they just decide to rent to someone else? And what’s the point of putting your heart and soul into it, if it isn’t yours?
Besides, paint isn’t going to make this place any less depressing. Oprah Winfrey and a design crew couldn’t make this place any less depressing. The only thing that will make this place less depressing is when there’s a moving van outside ready to get me the hell OUT OF HERE.
June 2, 2008 6:19pm
Steve is being a jerk again. Just because I forgot to leave something out to thaw for dinner. Oh no, he has to make do with leftovers. I’m so tired of his shit. Why do I put up with him?
June 3, 2008 9:07am
My arm still hurts, but who cares? Two more days until the bank appointment!!!
June 3, 2008 8:42pm
This is NOT happening. It’s not! It’s NOT!!!
We’ve been planning on FINALLY buying a house for MONTHS now. We’ve been stuck in this stupid apartment forever and I saved and saved and SAVED to get a down payment together. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. I finally even had the closing costs, so I made an appointment with the bank to get pre-approved, and then we could start looking.
He bought a TV. A fucking big-screen LCD THREE THOUSAND DOLLAR TV with my closing costs!!!
“I thought it was extra – you know, to buy stuff for the house,” he said.
EXTRA? EXTRA??? Are you fucking kidding me? It took me two and a half YEARS to save that up! Now what am I going to do? I can’t stay in this apartment anymore! I can’t! I will lose my mind if I don’t get out of here!
I should never have made that a joint account. What the hell was I thinking? I should have known that if he had any access to any of it that he would fuck this up. I can’t trust him with ANYTHING, EVER!
What am I going to do?
June 5, 2008 9:54pm
Steve says he’ll sell the television. He didn’t realize that was what the money was for, and he says he’s sorry. I don’t think we’ll get nearly as much as he paid for it, but at least it’ll be a start to save up the rest, and if we really scrimp, maybe it won’t take very long to get the rest. I wonder if I could cut the cable package down without him noticing.
It IS a nice TV. I guess it’s kind of cool to watch TV on such a huge screen. Sucks that we have to get rid of it. I was watching Jeopardy and Alex Trebeck’s moustache was like this huge hairy bug every time they showed him in a close-up. It kind of made me giggle. Steve thought I was nuts. What else is new?
It’d probably be cool to watch movies on, too. Too bad we have to get rid of it, but I am NOT going to live in this apartment forever just so that we can watch life-sized episodes of CSI. I don’t even like CSI.
June 6, 2008 5:07pm
Work was okay today, for once. One of the customers told me about this bank with a high-interest savings account. I wish I’d known about it sooner, but if it turns out that we have to wait another month or two, to make up the difference, maybe we can make a bit of interest on what I’ve saved. I don’t know. It’s something, right?
I just feel so damned defeated. I’m trying to stay positive, but I almost just don’t care anymore. I feel like I should just accept the shitty hand that I’ve been dealt – or that I dealt myself – and stop trying to get more out of life than I apparently deserve.
This isn’t the way that I intended my life to be. I don’t know how I did this to myself. I’m smarter than this. I was supposed to go somewhere, do something with my life. I wasn’t supposed to be thirty-two years old and still living in a dumpy apartment with a husband that from day-to-day I never know if I’m going to wake up to the man I thought I married, or if I’m even going to be able to stand the sight of him.
It’s not even all Steve’s fault, as much as I’d like to blame it on him. He is who he is, and I should have recognized that to begin with. We just aren’t all that compatible. He’s a good guy, most of the time, but he’s not… he’s just not that person that I expected to spend my life with. He can’t provide me the life that I expected to have. Not that I expected a man to provide me with a life… at least I don’t think I did, but I need someone to at least contribute. Ugh – am I even making sense? I just mean that I shouldn’t have to be responsible for EVERYTHING.
I had plans, I had dreams, and I threw them all away. Why? I’m smart, I was a good student, I could have done so much with my life, but I didn’t. What is the matter with me? Is it too late to just start over? I can’t go back in time, but can I start from here, from now, and rebuild? Go back to school and not just skate by? Really study something important? Make something of the rest of my life? Am I too late for that? And if I do that, does that mean giving up on the idea of ever having a family? Do I have to choose? Do I even get a choice, in the end?
Questions, questions… who’s got the answer?
June 7, 2008 11:11am
Sometimes when Steve is sleeping he looks so sweet. It’s hard to remember why I’m mad at him.
Then he wakes up and it’s hard to forget.
June 8, 2008 7:03pm
Steve says there’s no bite yet on the TV. I asked him, but he says he can’t just return it because it was on clearance. I don’t know how much he’s asking for it. I hope we can make back most of the money. If whoever buys it doesn’t know we got it on clearance, maybe they’ll pay close to what he paid? Doubtful, though. People online are always expecting something for nothing: the next big score.
I don’t think he understands how upset this makes me. I tried to explain that while we’re stuck in this stupid apartment we can’t really even TRY to have a baby, and he asked me why. Why? WHY??? How are we going to raise a baby in this hellhole??? I told him that I don’t want to be one of those families raising five kids in a two-bedroom apartment. I cringe every time I see those people here. I know that probably makes me a snob, but I just won’t let that be me. I’ve let my life get pathetic enough as it is.
Then he just started being a jerk again.
I hate this.