Keeping Track of Things.....

  Tuesday, January 30, 2007

 I have no weed and knew that going to bed last night was gonna be a big production.  I can’t sleep without weed.  And, I’m so friggin lonely.  Since the weekend, I’ve been feeling completely worn out, beaten by this horrid loneliness.  I got in bed around eleven and lay there for an hour and a half, trying to fall asleep.  I started crying.  I was glad.  I rarely cry without being under the influence of alcohol.  And, I think I have a lot of making up to do.  I need to cry.  I have the same sense when I’m crying as I do when Adam is giving me a deep-tissue massage…like I’m being cleansed, healed; like so many old, stagnate toxins are being released in my system.  I comforted myself a lot… “Let it out, baby.  Let go.  It’s okay.  You’re gonna be okay.  Let yourself heal.  This is necessary.” 

 I actually felt a little comforted!  But, I still couldn’t go to sleep. 

 At 12:23, I sent a text message to Anthony, hoping I’d catch him before he made it home from work so he could come over here and smoke with me.  I’d changed my phone ringer because Nicky called me Sunday night, at midnight and I missed the call.  When I returned his call yesterday morning and said, “Gosh.  I can’t believe I missed one of your calls,” he said “That’s okay, honey.  There’ll be more.”  It was so cute.  I told my exe boyfriend about it cuz we talked for a little while right before I got in bed.  I played him a song (Fire and Rain) and talked to him about how lonely I was.  He told me to call Nicky.  “Tell him to get his *** over there so you can serenade him.”  It made me desperately sad when he said that to me…cuz it made me think of how it could be.  I mean,  I’ve spent SO MANY nights, going to bed alone because of the five years I spent with my exe and he lived an hour away.  Nicky only lives right around the corner and I feel like I see less of him than I did my exe, sometimes.  It certainly is a HELL of a lot harder to get Nicky over here.  At any rate, I really wished it were as easy as calling Nicky up and telling him how much I wanted his company.

At 12:25, the phone rang.  At first, I thought it was Anthony responding to my text and I was relieved I’d be able to get some sleep.  But, then I recognized the ringer as being Nicky’s!  Immediately, I thanked God, out loud.

 “Do you wanna talk to me, or are you sleeping?” he said when I answered the phone.

 “No!  I’m not sleeping.  As a matter of fact, I’ve been laying here trying to figure out how I am gonna go to sleep.”

 “Well, do you wanna come over here and talk to me?”


 “Can you make it here in fifteen minutes?”

 “Yeah.  I can make it there in about that long.”

 “Cuz, if you don’t get here in fifteen minutes, I’ll probably be asleep.”

 “You won’t be sleeping.  I’ll be there.

 I got out of bed, threw some clothes on and got over to his house in about twenty minutes. 

 He was in rare form….in a good way.  This is part of the reason why I always respond to him…why I always “come when he calls.”  When he’s ready to reach out, when he’s ready to give something, there’s always either something for me to learn or something really wonderful for me to gain…some beautiful part of him.  (Sometimes, whatever there is for me to learn isn’t easy but, it’s always beneficial to me, in the end.)

 I only had a vague sense that he may think I’m weak or stupid on my drive over there.  For most people, I would likely be highly reluctant to just jump whenever they said to…I wouldn’t want “most people” to think they have that kind of power over me.  I don’t mind it with Nicky.  I like responding to him the way I do.  But, the first thing I said to him when he opened the door is, “Wow.  How does it feel that you can make people do whatever you want them to do?”  So, maybe it was bothering me a little more than I thought it was.  His response (or course) was something like, “I can’t make anybody do anything they don’t want to do.”

 He was happy to see me.  Judging by the fresh tire tracks in his driveway and the single set of footprints to the back door, he’d recently gotten dropped off by someone that didn’t stay.  He’d clearly been drinking & seemed to be feeling generally good.  We had such a good time together.  He seemed to be a lot more relaxed than usual.  He started the John Mayer cd soon after I’d come into the door.  I was a little quieter, more reserved than I usually am.  This was our first time really sitting face to face since New Year’s and I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect.  So, I just tried to keep it light and my profile low until I could gauge a little better what direction he was gonna take us in.  He might’ve just passed out on his chair, for all I know.  But, he was in really, really good spirits. 

 When the music started playing, he stopped in the middle of getting something out of the fridge to turn around and look me in the eye and say, “Thank you so much for this music, Abby.  You don’t know how much it’s helped me.  I’ve really been enjoying all the music you brought over here, but especially this cd.  I like this song a lot, too (the John Mayer one.)” 

 He was looking at me so intently…like he was really trying to convey his sincerity to me then said, “You’re such a beautiful person, Abby.  I mean it.  You are simply a beautiful person.  I love everything about you.  You’re talented and smart and exciting and I really have enjoyed you.  But, I’m not ashamed to admit it…**** it.  I can’t handle you.”

 I just looked at him in bewilderment.  “But, what does that mean. Nicky?  I don’t understand what that means.  Would you please explain it to me?”

 He changed the subject to something less meaty, then…like he can only express himself that way in small rations and he’d reached his limit.  I followed him in conversation and waited to broach the topic again.  But, I knew (and I even mentioned it to him) that he would never finish what he was saying if I kept asking him to.

 We sat down together in the living room after he’d made himself a salad (yes, he kept offering me some, offered to cook me something to eat, if I was hungry but, all I wanted was for him to make me a drink.  I never drink at his house unless he makes it for me…unless I’m sneaking when he’s not paying attention.  It’s really because I’m seeking his approval before I just drink, out in the open like that…like, most times I feel disrespectful for reaching for something to drink before he’s offered it.)  Anyhow, when he came to sit with me in the living room, I thought he’d wind up turning the television on and  we’d just do our regular (he’d eat his food like he hadn’t eaten in days and I’d try really hard to be interested in whatever channel he decided to flip to, we’d bullshit during the commercials and he’d wind up snoring within a half an hour.)  But, he didn’t make one move to turn that music off.  He was singing to the songs and stuff…he’s really been wearing that thing out, listening to it…he evens sings the songs when the cd’s not playing. 

 I remained quiet and fidgety.  He asked, “What’s wrong, Angel?  What are you thinking about?  What’s on your mind?”

 “Nothing,” I responded.

 “Why are you looking like that, then?”

 “Looking like what?”

 “Looking like you got something on your mind. What’s wrong?”

 “I don’t know….life.  I mean, there’s lots of really great stuff in my life…I have a beautiful life.  It’s just…everything comes at a price, you know?”

 He nodded in empathetic response, like he really understood what I meant and, I was glad for his intuitiveness and compassion.

At one point, he put his salad bowl down and rested his head on the back of the chair and just stared at me.  The look in his eyes then was so warm and loving…so sincere and sad and longing.  He looked deep into my eyes then took my hand in his and just looked at it.  He held my little hand for a while, softly caressing and examining it real intently for a few moments and I was noticeably uncomfortable.  Cuz!  I don’t know…I just never know what to expect from that man…

 So, I said, “Don’t my hands look really old?”  and lifted the one he’d been holding up to show him.

 “No,” he sighed, as he let go of my hand.

 His gaze then returned to my eyes, and face…and he lifted his hand to trace the outline of my jaw….to softly touch my lips and cheek…all the while looking at me with complete adoration. 

 Finally, hesitant but apparently resigned, he said, still looking me straight in the eye, “I really like you, Abby.”  He said it like it was something he was battling with…like he didn’t think it was appropriate to like me as much as he did but, like he knew in that moment that it was more than a little bit true…that he can’t deny it to himself…like he was giving in, almost.

 And I said, “What’s wrong with that, baby?  Doesn’t it feel good?  Just let yourself feel good.  You make me feel good as ****.”

 He was so loving with me, the whole time I was there…and playful.  We laughed and joked a lot.  We agreed before we got in bed that we weren’t gonna have sex.  Once we got in bed, he stayed so close to me…wouldn’t let me move away from him at all…always held me to him.  We continued to chat, laying in bed.  He was really tired and warned me that I was gonna be on “snore-watch in about fifteen minutes,” but continued bullshittin with me…about work.

 “I miss working with you,” he said.

 “I know.  Me, too.” I responded.

 “There’s this girl I’m workin with now…she’s trying to push up on me and I really don’t want her to.”

 “So.  What are you telling me that for?” I asked.

 “Cuz.  I need your help.  I need you to make her stop.”

 “Now, listen, Nicky, seriously:  I have absolutely no interest in being a part of all the little dramas you create for yourself cuz you’re bored.”  I said it matter-of-factly, like it really was just that simple.  Like, I know who he is and I know precisely what I’m doing and have enough dignity to do it with the grace of a woman.

 He was in the process of turning over when I said it and  he stopped, still propped up on one elbow to turn around and look at me.  “I like that, Abby,” he said, just as matter-of-factly; like he sees the respect I have for myself and for him; he feels that I love him like a woman should and he ******* appreciates that ****.  He finished turning over and, with his back now facing me, he said, “Come and hold me.”

 He kept me close to him the entire night.  Even when he was snoring loudly, if I made the tiniest move, he’d pull me against his chest and murmur, “unh uh…”  He put his hand into the boxer’s of his that I’d worn to bed and tangled his arm up in them so now there was no way I could get out of the bed without him knowing.  At one point, after his arm was all tight up in my drawers, I had to pee.  I just threw the blanket off me and tried to untangle myself and get up.

 “Unh uh…what are you doing?” he said in between snores.  “Where are you going?”

 “I gotta pee!” I finally said.

 “Okay.  Well, hurry up….”

 I actually got some pretty decent sleep over there that night but only because I ate a couple of his Tylenol PM’s and snuck a few swigs of the rum in the living room.  I, in fact, slept so hard that I didn’t hear my cell phone alarm going off in the morning.  He must’ve thought my phone was ringing cuz he patted me on the back to wake me up and said, “Is that My daughter?”

 I grabbed the phone and turned off the alarm. “No.  That’s my alarm so I can get up and go get My daughter.”

 Tuesday – gramma’s wake, over his house right after; he was really into me again in the house, watching me, loving me; pulling my hair, kissing my neck, hand between legs, pushing up against me while I was washing dishes; put the vacuum together; snow plow, blizzard, trip to Auto Zone; he showered, didn’t hold me during the night.  He came back to the music again.  He’s been trying to tell me what I already know because (for whatever Godforsaken reasons), I am so damn adept at picking up on his energy and feeling what he’s trying to communicate to me.  It got a little awkward for both of us when he started.

 He said something like, “I’ve been listening to this music a lot and, I feel like…I don’t know…like this music is like an….expression….of you….know what I mean?”

  I gave him a really nice massage until he started snoring (he kept saying, “get more lotion, get more lotion.”  I finally gave up on the lotion and he told me where to find some baby oil.)  No school on Weds., he was out of bed when he got a phone call at 5:30, said he was coming back in bed but never did.  Went outside instead to finish working on his truck.  He made us breakfast, I cleaned up before I left, couldn’t pull in my driveway.

 Wednesday – called him at 8:30 p.m.  He was in a lot of pain (his back was really sore) and was super tired.  He said he didn’t want to sleep alone and asked if I wanted to come sleep with him.  I didn’t really feel like leaving the house but wanted to be with him.  I got my pajamas together, talked to My daughter a little while and made it to his house in about an hour.  He was already sleeping on his chair but he got up to let me in.  The house was completely dark.  Poor thing.  There was a trail of his stuff laying through the kitchen like he really just came in the house and went straight to that chair.  I tried to hug him and talk him into getting off the couch cuz he said he was gonna take a shower and get in bed…said he needed to sleep in bed instead of on the chair because of his back so, I was worried about him.  He could barely move.  But, he pushed me off of him and told me to just go do what I had to do…  I took a shower and came out afterward to let him know I was waiting for him.  He wasn’t budging.  I knew I may have to sleep in his bed without him the whole night but, I preferred to be in his bed alone, with the potential of being close to him before I left in the morning, than to be in my bed alone.  He came to the room at about midnight.  I’d actually fallen asleep.  I put my hands on his back and was a little affectionate with him.  I tried to stay close to him during the night but, I don’t think he was really feeling me.  In fact, when he came into the room at first, I almost offered to go home because he just felt so uneasy to me.  I left my phone with My daughter so I didn’t set an alarm.  I really don’t have to, anyway cuz he’s usually up and moving around real early.  I figgered he’d wake me up in time. 

 I woke up to his voice and a gentle nudge from him, “It’s 7:35.”

 “What?  What happened?” I said, as I immediately shot up.  “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

 “Cuz.  I was up at 6 and ended up falling back to sleep.”

 He slept on top of the covers all night.  He was slow, moving around, like he was still in pain.  “It’s gonna be a long day,” he said, as he sat up on the edge of the bed, and watched me get dressed.

 “I have to drive all the way to Auburn, now, “ I said, half-changed.

 “I’m sorry, honey,” he said, so sweetly.

 “It’s not your fault, baby.  I know what time I have to take My daughter to school in the morning.  I should’ve taken care of waking up on time, myself.”

MysticWriter MysticWriter
36-40, F
Feb 13, 2007