(no subject)
29. The Kindness (or not) of Strangers
I deal with a lot of strangers. Professionally, personally, it’s just how my life has become. People who enter and exit with a seeming randomness that I’ve come to understand and even enjoy at times. There is a certain freedom in being a stranger, dealing with strangers.
On the train everyone is a stranger. Packed together heading home or heading to work, tired and more often then not stressed out. On a hot, long train ride home, I am standing, shifting from one foot to another. Until a stranger touches my shoulder to get my attention.
“Please, take my seat.”
30. Stitches.
There are different types of seizures, partial, complex. I knew a kid once that every time he had a seizure he would shake his hands real fast. A little distracting but nothing compared to one of those fall down and shake like a fish on dry land seizures. The first seizure I ever had was actually at work so at least I wasn’t alone.
Everything seemed to stop, slow down when it happened. It’s frightening, being out of control like that. When I woke up I had bit clean through my lip. Got five stitches to close it back up.
31. Summer Cold
“I don’t feel good.”
“You don’t look good.”
And I didn’t, but in my defense I was sick. Sick, sick, one of those heinous kinds of sick that you can only get in the middle of summer when its least expected. You catch a cold in the middle of winter, not in the middle of summer when everyone is out enjoying the sunshine and warmth.
It never fails, every summer I get sick so for about two weeks in July I walk around wishing death upon my immune system.
“Yeah, that’s too bad; get these prospectuses done by Friday, thanks.”
32. Road Trip
He stinks like alcohol, my brother, sitting in the seat next to me in the car. Passed out, his mouth open, sleeping the sleep of the sloshed. I got a call at six am from a cop about my brother, in trouble for DUI. The second call was at six fifteen from my dad, “make it go away.” My brother, the DUI, whichever is easier. He’s not been booked, so I deal with the cop who piles David into the car for me.
“He’s ruining everything, Delia. You need to fix this.” I am not my brother’s keeper. I am.
33. The Last Thing You Lost
He’s on speaker phone, my father, Pastor. Screaming, seized by the power of the Holy Spirit, his usual boom distorted by the quality of the phone making him sound tinny, almost cartoonish. “This sin has been upon us for too long. Repentance is found in the blessing of our Holy Father. Commend his spirit to God, Delia. Sacrifice him to save us all.”
David is crying. I hate when men cry. Thankfully Pastor’s screaming drowns him out. I wonder if Isaac cried when Abraham tied him to the altar. I think not.
“Do it, DELIA!”
I bring the rock down.
34. Tune
“What would you do if I sang out of tune?”
“Would you stand up and walk out on me?”
All together: “I get by with a little help from my friends. . .”
“You’re gonna get me into trouble, brother. The only person to ever be 86’d from the oncology wing.”
“That’s a special fucking talent right there, sister Dee, I wouldn’t worry too much about it though.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“I’m not real, this is just a hallucination.”
“What? Shut the fuck up, you’re real, right?”
“I get high with a little help from my friends. . .”
35. Burn
Sometimes I wake up and wonder where the hell I am. Not physically, most of the time I know where I am, but sometimes I wake up and think I stumbled into someone else’s life. What do you do when you feel like you don’t fit into your own life?
He’s on the balcony, smoking. I can see the end of his cigarette burning in the dark.
“I didn’t want to wake you, little wolf.”
“You didn’t. Come back to bed when you’re done.”
He crushes out the cigarette before slipping into bed.
“Go back to sleep.” He kisses me.
36. Ring
“Are you two going to get married?” I am talking to my mom at work. The clouds outside my window are thick and full of white. It’s them I am paying attention to, not my mom.
“I dunno, we haven’t really talked about it. This wasn’t really planned. . .”
“You have a child to think about now, Delia, you have to provide a stable, supportive environment for the child.”
Like the one I grew up in? That’s mean, I don’t say it.
“I don’t think a ring will make it more or less of those things, mom.”
She sighs.
I deal with a lot of strangers. Professionally, personally, it’s just how my life has become. People who enter and exit with a seeming randomness that I’ve come to understand and even enjoy at times. There is a certain freedom in being a stranger, dealing with strangers.
On the train everyone is a stranger. Packed together heading home or heading to work, tired and more often then not stressed out. On a hot, long train ride home, I am standing, shifting from one foot to another. Until a stranger touches my shoulder to get my attention.
“Please, take my seat.”
30. Stitches.
There are different types of seizures, partial, complex. I knew a kid once that every time he had a seizure he would shake his hands real fast. A little distracting but nothing compared to one of those fall down and shake like a fish on dry land seizures. The first seizure I ever had was actually at work so at least I wasn’t alone.
Everything seemed to stop, slow down when it happened. It’s frightening, being out of control like that. When I woke up I had bit clean through my lip. Got five stitches to close it back up.
31. Summer Cold
“I don’t feel good.”
“You don’t look good.”
And I didn’t, but in my defense I was sick. Sick, sick, one of those heinous kinds of sick that you can only get in the middle of summer when its least expected. You catch a cold in the middle of winter, not in the middle of summer when everyone is out enjoying the sunshine and warmth.
It never fails, every summer I get sick so for about two weeks in July I walk around wishing death upon my immune system.
“Yeah, that’s too bad; get these prospectuses done by Friday, thanks.”
32. Road Trip
He stinks like alcohol, my brother, sitting in the seat next to me in the car. Passed out, his mouth open, sleeping the sleep of the sloshed. I got a call at six am from a cop about my brother, in trouble for DUI. The second call was at six fifteen from my dad, “make it go away.” My brother, the DUI, whichever is easier. He’s not been booked, so I deal with the cop who piles David into the car for me.
“He’s ruining everything, Delia. You need to fix this.” I am not my brother’s keeper. I am.
33. The Last Thing You Lost
He’s on speaker phone, my father, Pastor. Screaming, seized by the power of the Holy Spirit, his usual boom distorted by the quality of the phone making him sound tinny, almost cartoonish. “This sin has been upon us for too long. Repentance is found in the blessing of our Holy Father. Commend his spirit to God, Delia. Sacrifice him to save us all.”
David is crying. I hate when men cry. Thankfully Pastor’s screaming drowns him out. I wonder if Isaac cried when Abraham tied him to the altar. I think not.
“Do it, DELIA!”
I bring the rock down.
34. Tune
“What would you do if I sang out of tune?”
“Would you stand up and walk out on me?”
All together: “I get by with a little help from my friends. . .”
“You’re gonna get me into trouble, brother. The only person to ever be 86’d from the oncology wing.”
“That’s a special fucking talent right there, sister Dee, I wouldn’t worry too much about it though.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“I’m not real, this is just a hallucination.”
“What? Shut the fuck up, you’re real, right?”
“I get high with a little help from my friends. . .”
35. Burn
Sometimes I wake up and wonder where the hell I am. Not physically, most of the time I know where I am, but sometimes I wake up and think I stumbled into someone else’s life. What do you do when you feel like you don’t fit into your own life?
He’s on the balcony, smoking. I can see the end of his cigarette burning in the dark.
“I didn’t want to wake you, little wolf.”
“You didn’t. Come back to bed when you’re done.”
He crushes out the cigarette before slipping into bed.
“Go back to sleep.” He kisses me.
36. Ring
“Are you two going to get married?” I am talking to my mom at work. The clouds outside my window are thick and full of white. It’s them I am paying attention to, not my mom.
“I dunno, we haven’t really talked about it. This wasn’t really planned. . .”
“You have a child to think about now, Delia, you have to provide a stable, supportive environment for the child.”
Like the one I grew up in? That’s mean, I don’t say it.
“I don’t think a ring will make it more or less of those things, mom.”
She sighs.