Bitter Ass Bitch

She was the friend that I had never expected to ask me this fucking vanilla question.

“Mel, when are you gonna have kids? You would make such a great mom.”

Misery likes company eh? A thought.  A quick thought.  A long thought.   I almost had the nerve to ask, “So when are you gonna get a divorce?”

I didn’t.  I feel like it is as just as inappropriate to ask a lady when she is going to bear children as it is to when she is going to leave her lame ass husband or drown her whiny ass kid.

To be truthful.  I do not support killing your children, but I guess as annoyed and anxious as you are about me having a child, I am equally as ready for you to make your kid shut the fuck up.

I get it. Both ridiculous. Both uncalled for.

But seriously, can you get your kid to shut the fuck up?

I am trying to have a conversation with my once sexy ass vibrant friend.

Is this just age?  You watch your once colorful friends fold into a bland ass manila envelope.

I’ll do without.  Khaki always looked like shit on me.

Flat Tire

I was on my way to his house when I started feeling a consistent thump on the rear right side of my car.  I pulled over next to the cemetery and got out – flat tire.

I had never fixed a flat tire so I sat on the curb for a minute and called my boyfriend to come help.  He lived right down the road.  Immediately after the phone call I felt a rush of competition and convinced myself I could change the tire, maybe even before he would arrive.  Talk about how to impress a man, right?

I pulled out the tools and spare from my embarrassingly trashed trunk and started a timer on my phone.  I have always been uncomfortably obsessed with efficiency and timing.

Lifting the car with the jack was the easy part.  I had to stand and jump on the tire iron to loosen the bolts.  Right as I was about to loosen the last bolt a lowrider with spiked rims and bass blasting slowed down to a stop.  Here we fucking go, I thought.

He rolled down the window with weed smoke pouring out.  Who hot boxes anymore?

“Say baby, you need a hand?”

I didn’t even look up and kept working on the tire.

“Na, I think I got it. Thanks though.”

He reached his neck out of the car, “Damn, I like your ambitiousness girl, can I get your number?”

I stood up annoyed and waved the tire iron at him, “Yea, you can grab it from my man when he gets here.  Keep it moving.  And it’s ‘I like your ambition’, not ambitiousness, by the way.”

He slid back in his seat, “Damn bitch, I was just trying to tell you your beautiful. You a english teacher and shit?”

Sweating profusely, I pulled off the tire and slammed it on the ground, “Damn bitch I was just trying to change my tire.  Who the fuck hot boxes cars these days anyway? Your stoned ass probably couldn’t help even if you wanted to. Now, move the fuck on!”

He murmured some shit and turned up his music and sped off.

It took me exactly 8 minutes and 32 seconds to change out the tire. I was sitting on the curb smiling when he pulled up.  He ripped off his helmet annoyed and took a walk around the car.

“It took me exactly 8 minutes and 32 seconds to change my first flat tire!  Not bad eh?  After I called—”

“Why did you even call me for help?”

He was unamused and definitely unimpressed.  I stopped smiling.

“Well, I have never done it before and I wanted to test myself and see if I could do it without you before you got here.”

He grabbed his helmet, “Well, most people try to figure things out before they call and ask for help.”  He put on his helmet and got back on his motorcycle.

My accomplishment turned confusion quickly shifted into a familiar rage.  My eyes began to water and I flipped open my pocketknife.

I  walked past my car and towards him on his bike and stabbed my knife into his tire.

I jumped in my car and screamed, “Say baby, you need a hand?” and sped off.

 

 

 

“Leave your Wife”

“Hey Mel.”  

You whispered in my ear from behind, I was alone at the bar writing.

I didn’t turn around.  

I shut my eyes and all our memories flashed quickly,  emotions tagged along.  

Excitement, fear, despair, resentment, longing.

I opened my eyes and reached for your hand over my shoulder.

Your touch, a wave of thick honey running through my body.

I rested my head over our bound hands.

Still.  I hadn’t turned around.

I almost didn’t want to, I almost couldn’t.

Years waiting, my eyes began to water and tears ran down my knuckles onto yours.

You immediately reacted and hugged me from behind.

I was dreaming,  I had to be dreaming.  I’ve seen this one before.  

Surely, all of this time living with lingering lost love was a reverie of my imagination.

I didn’t wake from this dream, it wasn’t a dream.

Still I hadn’t turned around.

Where have you been?  You hugged me tighter.

We met by chance as adolescents. You instantly illuminated the pieces of myself that were the hardest to see, especially at that age.  

I adored you.

I was always codependent with those that never seemed to fit the bill and as we grew we saw each other in passing with other lovers.  

The last time we saw each other you demanded that I tell you to leave your wife.

We had spent the summer together while she was away and fell in love again.

Once, you pleaded, only once

I couldn’t.  

I needed you to make that jump for yourself. 

You didn’t

and you resented me for not telling you those seemingly simple words,

“Leave your wife. I want to be with you.”

I’d spent years trying to ward you out of my heart.  

Sage, meditation, writing, drinking, begging,

it never worked.  

Some months easier than others

but still always had you floating in my dreams, my awake, my everything.

I touched my mouth to your hand and inhaled.  

You smelled the same as you always did, even when we first met.

Soaked with tears, I gripped your hand tighter

Still, I hadn’t turned around.

I almost didn’t want to, I almost couldn’t.

Years of reserving this abject space in my heart for you, I took a deep breath and began to turn around.

I woke up.  

Silence.

Dawn.

Birds chirping and I could still smell you and without a thought I said aloud,

“Leave your wife.  I want to be with you.”

My husband rolled over, eyes wide, “What did you just say?”