July 30, 2020 – Thursday (Covid-19 day 3, 456,789,023)
I’m sitting here in my dining room with the windows open on both sides and the soft breeze is wafting through the screens. It’s to be 78º today. Lovely.
I’d like to be outside inputting my writing files into my computer, but I’m having connectivity issues today and my wifi is so slow inside the house, I know it would be non-existent outside … even 6 feet from the door. Sigh. So goes internet service in my location. I’m kind of in a dead zone. The locals don’t think a tower would be healthy for the locals. As in wildlife. I, on the other hand, am all in favor of making life a little easier for the other locals – the citizens of our town. I have been ruled out on this. As well as with the brighter lightbulbs in town. I’ve begun to call the lights in town “dims”. I’m all for eco-conservation-dark nights, etc … but two blocks of brighter lighting (than a nightlight) in town – even until 8 pm (because everything pretty much shuts down way before then) would be wonderful. But, it’s not like there’s anywhere to go in town now anyway.
Anyway, I digress. I told myself I needed to work on getting all this writing into my computer and it’s taking a long time to do so. I have another two inches of papers in said file. It’s been fun re-reading things I’ve written. Some I remember, some I don’t. I re-read something I wrote from last week and have NO recollection of it! Was I asleep writing it?!
This morning I thought I’d give myself a little boost … a perky “pick me up of plum” … a slight “hint of heliotrope” … a little “shimmer of lilac” … a lingering “kiss of violet “. But, no, that didn’t happen. I sit here typing with hair that is a solid, deep, intense eggplant! Entire head. No shimmer, hint, gloss, or kiss of whatever was promised. Oh well, it’s not like anyone will be seeing me anyway. Covid-19 … day 3,456,679,082 and counting …
Here is one of my stories from a while back. Wrote this one night after Tim and I had been to Olive Garden and overheard a couple’s argument. It wasn’t pretty. But the food was great!
*****
Eternity … 10/12/2004 and revisited 07/19/2020
“Loneliness washed over her like the waves that crashed upon Deborah Kerr and Burt Lancaster in the film From Here to Eternity.”
God! What is wrong with me? I couldn’t believe I had just written that. Like that would ever sell in a novel. I definitely was having writer’s block. My agent would throw that in the trash without a second look. My brain hurt. My heart hurt more.
Eternity – my favorite cologne … yes. The time between now and my deadline … no. The length of some wedding vows … doubtful.
I had been told, once again, while in the waiting area of Olive Garden (of all places), that I was “too difficult”. “Too hard to be with”. “Too hard to get along with.” “Too hard for him to continue on with … us.”
Really? This is where you choose to end our life together?
I walked out alone and dejected – leaving him, the pager, and my heart on the foyer’s wooden bench.
Hard to be with? Difficult to get along with? ME? Seriously? Please!
I’d give the shirt off my back to anyone. Of course, then my back-fat would show – but what’s a little fat between people – especially one in need? And for that matter, what is it with that stuff? I’ve been dieting and denying myself for years … my workout routines rival professional athletes’ for God’s sake. I barely have an extra ounce on me and yet I still have back-fat! How is that even possible?
My mind was all over the place. The clock was ticking. I needed to focus.
I was at first hurt. Then I was steaming. How DARE he?! He was throwing this ON ME!? He was blaming this ON ME!?
Okay … maybe I was a bit difficult and a tad hard to be with after all of this. Maybe I was tired of not being his Number One. Yeah, let’s make it MY fault that he had a string of women on the side. He didn’t even know I knew that. But, I was so in love with him, was so affixed to him … I let it pass. I always told myself he’d see his ways. He’d come around to just me. He’d choose me above all others.
He didn’t.
We had history. We had vacations. We had parties. We had made love a thousand times and then some. We knew each other. We tolerated the little things that creep into a relationship but are overlooked because you want the other person to be happy and be themselves and you want it to just … be.
I couldn’t stomach not being with him. I thought I’d be sick.
My friends knew. They knew all about this “arrangement” I’d let happen. They chided and scolded me. Told me that I was asking for trouble. Told me I was being stupid. But then they supported me – telling me when it fell apart, they’d be there for me and they’d wrap themselves around me and help me back on my feet. Good friends. I suppose I knew they were all right – from the beginning.
But, I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t live without … HIM.
He was my life! He was my everything. He was my AIR!
God, how pathetic am I? I should write that in my novel!
I got up from the chaise and took my laptop over to my desk and started in … letting all of what had been flow out onto those keys. Letting go of the past. Letting go of the hurt and anger and sorrow. Letting go of all the what-ifs and could-have-beens. Letting hope about the future seep in … one key stroke at a time. Wondering what would come next? Wondering what he’d do next? Wondering how he’d be?
Wondering if his wife knew?