July 18, 2012
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subdued..
On Friday night I take my worried mind to bed, sighing in defeat and resignation, certain that I’ll not hear from him at all. Sleep is fitful at best, but I manage to doze off by 1 am.
My phone rings at 1:30am. My eyes fly open and I snatch up my cell phone. I’m prepared to go in to work, and I’m professional. D sounds surprised at the different voice he hears, but he gushes anyway. He’s leaving the bar. He wants to come and pick me up. Even if we’re both too tired for sex, he wants to wake up next to me. I plead fatigue and decline. Devil me stares at me in the darkness. He pushes it for 20 min, but I explain that I’m on call, that I’m expected in 30 min, that if I stay with him, then I’ll have to tack 15 min on my call in time.
Why would he need me so? Guess he was somewhere where the women were scantily clad, or at least drunk and teasing the eunuch. I look at Devil me, decline for the last time, and hang up. She kisses my head and I drift off to sleep. I don’t even want to see him in the morning. I open my eyes in the dark and whisper, “It’s done.” She shushes me, “Sleep.”
I wake up at 9 am. No call backs. I slip out of bed and pad about getting myself together. The texts start soon after, “Call me? Are you up?” I ignore them, annoyed at the intrusion, certain that he’s just looking for an outlet. The fair weathers must have been especially slutty last night. “Or else they paired up and he was the lonely guy with no one, which is quite often the case,” Devil me offers. I shrug and get dressed. I’ll contact him after I have coffee.
When I do, he’s bouncy and happy. I resist the urge to ask if L spent the night. He wants to go boating. He wants to travel south for 6 hours. I explain that I’ll have to board animals, and ask what he really wants to do. The weather forecast calls for rain, after all. He decides he’d rather go boating, but wants to meet for breakfast.
I beat him to the restaurant. Strike 3 for the accusation that I’m always tardy. I take the opportunity to comment on it, but he sweeps me into his arms. I pick up the tab for breakfast while he wanders over to chat with a guy he used to work with. Then I leave. He shows up about 10 minutes later to pick me up. No car. If anything happens, I’m stranded. My mouth is a grim line. I’ve used the time to tie up loose ends with the pets. He studies my face when I get in the truck, “Are you alright?” I nod, and plead fatigue. Devil me snorts, “As if she’d discuss it with you…”
Indeed. I drive back and forth to work writing the script so that my answers are concise and honest.
The only reason to put so much time into my answers is to pad the walls so that no one gets hurt. Except me, of course. It all hurts me. My eyes sad and full of pain.
back later…pulling a double shift tomorrow…
