Maybe we’ll see you next year.
Xoxo, Red and Ro
"I am doing this for us", I say. Hell, maybe just for you. Or me. Same difference, right?
Fifteen minutes early to my two o’clock every Tuesday like clockwork. I make sure to sit in the same chair every week. The one with a view clear of any inspirational posters if you keep your eyes straight. Or in non-staring vicinity (as I like to call it) with that shitty kid on the wall showing off his toothy Colgate smile. Hugging a dog he’s probably never met before that day. Scared shitless of Max. Or Roscoe. Or something generic like that.
I wear the same pair of Chucks every week. Don’t wash them, I say. I kind of like ‘em dirty…it adds character, ya know? Same two rings on the middle finger of my right hand and one on the other. Some fake pearl one I picked up for fourteen bucks because it reminded me of my grandmother’s. Yeah, the one Pop gave her when they parted ways during WWII. When she went off to go teach pilots how to use their dicks to navigate.
Ha! Nah, I’m kidding, but it was something like that.
Oh, the ring? Yeah, apparently it holds a “false history” or some shit. Think we went over that last week, but I’m ready to just ditch the whole act. It’s a slice of silver. The only history it has is it’s damn half-life.
"Can I record this?" I ask.
"Well, because I’ve never seen myself cry and I guess I always feel self conscious when I do like my face looks like I’m sucking on something sour or some shit and my eyebrows are synched so tight they could touch and I’ve never seen how fucking awful I blabber all over my collar and I’ll probably have to throw this one out which is the last one from the pack I bought last weekend. Can you believe you can get five of these things for four bucks? 100% cotton. I swear.”
Her lungs and eyebrows react the same way, and she tells us we’re going to get started.
"How are you feeling today?" She asks.
"What comes to mind when you hear the word cunt?"
Pass. Along with a sharp eye and those lovely, kissing eyebrows.
"How long have you been talking to —"
I cut her off before she can even sputter out the words and pair it with a genuine fuck off, and I’m out of here early today. Sweet, sweet, freedom and some much needed nicotine. I don’t even know why I stand out here to smoke. Fucking ridiculous what this building does to you. What I really should be doing is planting my sweet ass in my car and flicking more than just butts out the window.
I know, I know. I’m sorry. Well it was her fucking fault for asking me those questions. She knew what she was getting herself into and that look she gave me. That fucking look! God, it was great. And yeah, of course I have that shit on tape. We’ll watch it later, but right now I need to swing by the store and grab some bleach. These shirts are getting out of fucking control. You need anything?
I’m just kidding. I already know. The bleach will do, yeah? It was our idea after all. Hmm, I think you’re right. I mean, of course you’re right. We’re always right.
Relevant, and what not.
After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
And company doesn’t mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn…
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
Just another Friday.