a cookie. A really big cookie with at least 500 calories. Or a mini-spending binge. Or some fine sulkery in the library tonight for a few hours. Or staying at work for the next 4 hours even though my head is about to explode in pain from a three day migraine headache. Every time I read something that refers to the boyfriend's ex-wife and what they share I go to a most unspecial place. When I was little and something ugly happened that I did not like I used to hide in the dirty laundry hamper. The smell of my parents enveloped me, and my pain was soaked up by the t-shirts and underware. When I was around ten the volatile climate in my house sent me to my room where I spent hours or even days evaporating into my radio and books. Today it's shoe shopping, car eating, and hiding out in otherwise inconspicuous venues like the hardware store.
I hide because I feel that the sadness is oozing out of every part of my body and it makes me so unsightly....I hide because I just cannot deal with what I know: my mom and dad hated each other and the boyfriend and his ex-wife have something that the boyfriend and I don't. I hide because I am dumb enough to read the blogs that the boyfriend writes that refer to what he and his ex-wife or as he likes to write it "we" has.
Little Emma Ruddy is in my room drawing on a whiteboard that was specially made for someone of her size. She's describing her love of whiteboard markers- she is talking to me about how they can even erase with your hand. She's my friend Tom's kid. I have this urge to ask Tom if she really is everything in his life...does he love her more than he loves himself- more than he loves his wife Val? And when he is with other people does she stay in his soul, or does she just erase?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment