Just Me. Again.

November 23, 2015 at 2:02 am (On the road again..., Sweet sticky things)

Worn and Torn

Worn and Torn

Yes, it’s November. That means you can count on two things: I will be clean-shaven all month, and Rain will move out again.

We are right on schedule. My face is smooth as a baby’s butt until 5 PM, after which sandpaper-grading is required. And Rain has left the building. She’s been gone three nights, and I am happy about it.

I am also sad about it.

But mostly happy….

Previous winters would find her moving into the downtown women’s shelters, visiting me on a regular basis when we weren’t sick of each other. Which was often, after a summer crammed into a single-bedded room in an overcrowded house. When Festus reminded me of the routine the past couple years, I begrudgingly admitted that he was right.

This time it’s different. Rain actually got her own apartment,  with a year’s lease. She’s no longer stuck with me. I have been hearing about it for months, how she can’t wait to cook in her own kitchen, have her own bathroom, and watch endless hours of Reba and King of Queens reruns without thinking I’m judging. (I’m not. Her love of honky comedies charms me no end.) In fact, I have tipped the teeter-totter the other direction; I am now known to watch The Real and Wendy Williams. “How you do-un?”

I was wondering at first, would this be the last time? Are we done? Things were testy, emotions raw. “Why are you yelling at me?” “I’m not yelling at you.””Well you might as well be.” “I ain’t tryin’ta make you mad.” “I wasn’t mad until you kept accusing me of being mad.” “I DON’T GET MAD.” Etc…. She claims ours is her first relationship with arguments. If so, then I hate to think about how pussy-whipped those otherwise normal ex-boyfriends must have been at home.

I met her at her new place, just as she was about to sign papers. I met her housing caseworker,  checked out the area. My baby is now a Slabtown girl. I told her, “I’m going to leave you to it, call me if you need me.” I didn’t kiss her goodbye. I wasn’t sure if I should.

I wandered, went to the mall. Texted my new friend Dizzy, a comely lass who lives within spitting distance of the Waterfront Store. I wanted to visit, but didn’t want to bring the drama to Dizzy’s. I wasn’t even sure if I was still in a relationship.

By the time I got home, I was in a funk. Rain hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. After five long years, she gets a place and I am yesterday’s Depends? Cold…

I texted her, “I know you are sick of me, but it hasn’t even been a day and I miss you. It might take a few days before I get used to coming home to an empty room. ”


Fine. I wish I had gone to Dizzy’s. At least I could have smoked myself silly in the company of a pretty girl. Instead I bought ice cream and went home to watch Titanic.

About the time the love story part kicked in, my phone buzzed. “Now I’m lonely. ;)~”

That was all I needed to hear. I  texted back, “Get a TV and a radio and I will probably never see you again.”

“I need to come get some stuff.”

“I will make sure someone will let you in tomorrow if you let me know when.”

“How about tonight?”

It hadn’t even been one night. “Sure! You can come curl up with me.”

A little while later my phone buzzed. “I think I’ll just get some sleep and get with you tomorrow. Okay babe?”

“Sure, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs– Oh fuck those bedbugs! Kill’em all!”

“Good night, Charlie Chan.”

My phone buzzed again about 5 AM. “I need some clean clothes. Call me when you wake up?”

I texted back, “Howdy.”

“Wow, you’re up!” Immediately my phone rang, and we talked about nothing for twenty-three minutes. I offered to bring her some clothes before work, and she accepted. I borrowed my sister’s shopping basket and filled it with three garbage bags full of possessions. It was wobbly-wheeled heading to the MAX, and I looked more homeless than she ever did.

My phone buzzed again. “I’m so sick of wearing these panties…” Attached was a photo of her in hot pink bikini underwear. She hasn’t sent me a picture like that since we first started dating. “Hurry please.”

I rambled through the Pearl, flashing back on the ups and downs of our relationship. I recalled the time I wore my lucky new red tee shirt for the first time, and Rain came to the window to find me staring up. It was a wonderful reunion, though not the last time we parted ways. Now the shirt is three sizes too big, and more holy than righteous. I’ve been wearing it as a bedshirt the last few days.

I’m hoping she’ll be disgusted and just rip it right off me…


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