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"Question not the justice of the present," Croaker

Fairness is not in the cards.  To question the hand we are dealt does not change the present.  Learn from the past.  Hope for the future and role with the present.

I've been ignoring Pandora.  Briefly, we were talking again daily but I became frustrated with her inability for her to promise to try to take care of herself, among other things.I haven't discussed it with her because I have been too busy with work to process my thoughts and put them into words.  I hadn't add everything up but I know something was wrong.

You Are, You Are

"You aren't who or what you think you are , Princess.  You're what the world thinks you are.  Your great task is to convince the world you are what it wants you to be."  Ferris Renfrow, Lord Of The Silent Kingdom.

24- Part II

Remember, walking in the sand 
Remember, walking hand in hand 
Remember, the night was so exciting 
Remember, her smile was so inviting 
Remember, then she touched my cheek 
Remember, with her fingertips 
Remember, softly 
Softly we met with a kiss ...Remember, Aerosmith (originally the Shangri- Las)

I don't need her words to remind me of those days.  I remember.  I also remember others times in other places with other people, those tastes now though, are not so sweet.  Days pass. Moments slip away.

What would we see if we could replay the moments we hold on too? The heat?  The passion?  The urgency?

Was that ecstasy in her eyes or detachment? Replay.

Does the excuses uttered after explain it all away? Replay.

Why did it end that way? Replay

What would happen if we replayed our memory for another?  Would it melt and shrivel like a piece of celluloid stuck in front of the bulb of an old time movie projector or would it spark a memory of their own?

What do you see?  What do you feel?  What do you taste and smell?

What do I?

What do I know?  What do I know about anyone?

*   *   *

Outside the cars can be heard on the distant freeway, the tires murmuring over the asphalt, the engines humming along.  The muffled sounds seep through the doorwall becoming a static sort of white noise I mistake for silence.  The shades are drawn.  The room is bathed in familiar shades of gray.  Worn out pillows surround me.

My mind wanders.  Consciousness comes and goes.  Occasionally I'll stretch the pain out of the tendons in my feet and turn my head the other way.  Vocalizing silently in conversations of the mind. The reality that I am alone physically, never pushed totally beyond the fringes of feeling.

Time passes.  The shadows shift then disappear, engulfed in the darkness that is night.  The freeway sounds peak and wane.  Light. I fight being drawn back into the world.  I long for numb exhaustion like an addict for his fix.

My phone vibrates.  A familiar voice reminds me how fortunate I am to be receiving a message. I doubt the truth in the statement but read the text none the less.   The spell is broken.

24

"You have no time for me," she says pointedly.

*   *   *

Neverland has gone silent for the four time during the even.  It breaks the flow. Leaves everyone a little to aware of their surroundings. Its after midnight.  #1 is leaning against me.  She is slightly drunk and making snide jokes and colorful comments about other people I know.  I reproach her halfheartedly.  I can be as mean as her. I've had more then enough beers myself.  Unwillingly I smile. Our sense of humors don't very much, and when we are alone we seldom hold back.

Morning comes too soon.  After four hours of agitated sleep, I am up sifting through emails from China.  I don't have a hang-over, which is nice.  I made sure to drink plenty of water.  My overseas bosses are not happy with my progress on certain issues.  They veil their displeasure in terms like, "please take consideration to follow up closely".  Which is translated Chinese for, "you need to get this done".

I decide I'd better take a trip into the office, just in case my local Chinese boss has returned.  He didn't.  The new salesmen is there however.  He's been with us a week now.  I've meet him only twice--briefly.  I don't even know his full name or phone number yet.  I have no idea what he is working on.  Yes, just a typical day at the office.

A couple hours later, I've made my phone calls, wrote my emails and was planning my departure when I get a text message from Alexis.  "Do you have time to look at a broken water line on a refrigerator?"
I'd been meaning to get over her house.  She has wanted me to help her pull some things in from outside and into the basement for the winter for a while now.

"I was just about to leave.  I can stop on my way home."

When I get to her house they have a laundry list of things to be repaired.  I fix the ice-maker, the computer, install two cabinet knobs and take a look at a broken toilet.  They don't have the right parts for the toilet.  I promise to pick them up and work on it over the weekend.  I never get to moving the things in from the backyard and add that to the last for the weekend.

I rush home.  It is Monday and I've promised to help #1 with her math homework and what the little T-rex while she is at school.  I have enough time to curl up under one of the frayed quilts on the couch but not enough to actually fall asleep when I hear them come in from the garage.

The T-Rex has brought toys.   He wants to play.  Mommy grabs the laptop and starts searching Facebook.
I build the T-Rex a quick tower out of Legos, find him a little net made out of string that he can tie his dinosaur up with and settle next to #1 to look at math. 

Her patience is thin.  A mixture of unfamiliar material, too much work over the weekend and not enough sleep has made her snappy.  Not really a surprise.  She is somewhere between Twin A and Twin B on the difficulty scale when it comes to tutoring.  Three questions in, we are butting heads and she has had enough.  I retreat to the other side of the coffee table and play more with the T-Rex.  #1 curls up under the other quilt on the love seat and takes a nap before class.

Once mommy leaves, the T-Rex and I decide to go on a little adventure.  Four hours is a long time to be cooped up in the house.  I tell him we are going to Sam's house to help her with the renovations.  He in not enthused.  He would rather stay home but I'm the boss.  So after he goes poop, which was a sickly green color that looked more like Play-Doo and makes me wonder what she feeds the kid, we pack up our tools and drive off.

The renovations to Sam's condo have been an on going process.  A two year on going process.  She has never lived there.  She is cleaning the windows, while I am adjusting the doors on the recently installed cabinets.  I glance into the living room.  The little T-Rex is busy drawing pictures on the bare plywood floor.  Earlier he was helping me drill holes in the closet doors for the knobs.

"Only-children are so easy."  I comment.  "They play by themselves."

"So are dogs."  Sam replies.

"I don't really see the point in having a dog."

"Are you saying you'd rather have another child?"

It's one of those 'you most choose' type of questions.  A question where each of the answers are equally undesirable. "I suppose...I guess.  As long as it ain't mine.  As long as I can hand it back at the end of the day.  Does the mom come with it?"

The T-Rex gets impatient with scattering my tools.  Before we leave I promise to finish a laundry list of other things over the weekend.  It is getting dark as we drive back to my house.  "Where did the sun go?"

"It is night time buddy.  Day time is sunny; night time is.."  I coax.

"Scary!"

"What! No night time isn't scary its dark."

When #1 returns, she has gotten her second wind.  She is still not interested in doing her math.  Her thoughts are on food and mischief.  She eats a bowl of chips, cheese and salsa in less time then it takes to prepare, then digs into Taco Bell.  She threaten to high-jack this blog and write her own post again.  I tell her to go ahead but warn her that her actions could have consequences.  She starts a post but is afraid to print it.  She's afraid of the guilt.  

I kindly kick them out soon after.  It has been a long day for me.  Tomorrow will be more of the same.  Starting with a hour drive to a customer site. 

California, I'm Fine

"What you said...hurt me,"  She texted.

I know she is looking for me to apologize.  I don't.  I don't see any reason to apologize.  "My words never bothered you so much before,"  I reply.

But that has changed.  Every word is scrutinized now, checked for hidden meaning and assumptions are added to nonexistent subtext.  Yet when I have her on the phone, there is silence between us. She doesn't know what to say and I won't say what she wants to hear.

This is how things break.


California, I'm fine
Somebody check my brain...Check My Brain, Alice In Chains

FlyingThrough

"What's with you old guys and Royal Oak?"  #1 asks, as if she doesn't like hanging out there occasionally herself.

"Where else would take someone that hasn't been to the city before?"

I picked up Jess from her hotel in Waterford.  I explained she wasn't exactly in Pontiac then showed her the difference as we made our way down Woodward.  Jess is all red hair and large smile.  She left the details of our excursion to me but would dissuade certain ideas as I brought them up.  It was noon, too early to drink ourselves into oblivion, though I think that idea would have appealed to her. Besides I had the boys to deal with later that day.

We settled for lunch at a Mexican restaurant in Royal Oak.  Jess told me a few anecdotes from her experiences as a stewardess for a private airline.  Her passengers have included former Presidents, movie stars, singers and sports figures.  I filled in my half of the conversation with my own anecdotes.  She asked if I was seeing anyone and I tried to explain my most recent events.

Jess was a comfortable companion.  She kept up with me beer for beer and didn't complain about walking around town in the unseasonably cold weather (even though she lives in Texas).  I should her bits of the best and worst of the city and its suburbs-- as much as anyone could in five hours on a cold fall day.

She was flying out the next day but hopefully the actor who charted the plane would have a few more days of shooting next week.  She seemed to have a good time.  I know I did.  Hopefully I will see her again.

Castle

Friday Max and I built a castle for the season.

 

Black, green and orange

Complete with a skeleton butler and Igor the key holder.

With Jack-o-lanterns, ghosts and Frankenstein.

Kids

"...says the man playing with the three year old."

Little kids are easy.  They know what to say.

"Who's the best Lego builder ever?"

"You are!"

They don't ask you what you are feeling.

"Play with me, Croaker."

They don't stare at you when your voice shifts from Yoda, to Patrick, to Mr. Crabs and back.  They know the right lines to reply when you recite from cartoons and patiently indulge you even though you've done it a hundred times already-- because you think its funny.

"Are you done with your cereal?

"Yes."

Really?"

"Yes."

"Really, really?"

"Yes, yes!"

"Well'p that's good enough for me!"

If you pay attention to them.  They are happy and you become the T-Rex, the Evil Jedi, the Lego Doctor or their co-conspirator in a plot to scare mommy.

Their grudges don't last long.

"I don't like you!"

"You don't like me?"

"I like you. I like you.  Don't cry.  Don't cry."

They trust you, can't wait to see you and cry when they leave you.  Until that day when they are not little anymore-- yet you still seem to be.

What Do You Want Me To Say?

What do you want me to say...

I get a text.  "I need you to be there for me today..as best you can.  I'm asking. Please."

"What's wrong?"  I reply.

I'm left wondering whether she's come to some new decision about us.  Is she moving back to New Jersey?  Has her ex made her an offer she can't refuse?  Is she sick or someone close to her sick?

"If we could go back to pre-Vegas and just be friends are you okay with that?" She asks.

"Yes.  What is wrong with you?"

So the old boyfriend has gotten to her, I'm thinking. But no, he hasn't and I gave the wrong answer.  It was a test.  A test I should have seen.  Pandora is a pro at thinking things without saying them. Which includes not saying things she thinks you don't want to here.  I still hear them.  I hear them in the words she writes, in the things she does say and in the long silent pauses in our conversation.

"I want to be a positive influence in your life,"  I tell her.  I was-- until Vegas.  She says she is ambivalent about a relationship with me.  I tell her she is misusing the word and she is being chaotic.  One person is not the solution to all of life's problems.  You cannot forget yourself when you are in love.  It opens you up to regret or being alone.

She is stumbling out of some bar five thousand miles away, breaking down on the street.  I am not there but I am the cause.  She loves me.  She doesn't know me.  Four days does not reveal me.

I want to be a positive influence in her life; I want her to be a positive influence in my life...we're not.

The Olive Garden

Sam and I sit at Olive Garden waiting for our lunch-- my second of the day.  Ever since Vegas I can't seem to stop eating.  Its annoying fall is supposed to be one of the those times of year that I general loose weight.  I've gained five pounds.  I silently curse every fat person I see because I've gained five pounds and I will not become one of their number.  I curse a lot.

"I don't know Croaker,  I think you are just miss reading it, "  she says.

"I'm telling you there is more to it."

Her face says there is something more, but what it is I can't tell and she won't say.

Our food arrives.  She ordered just the salad.  I the soup.

"I don't know," she continues, "I haven't seen you together."

I stop probing.  It is evident I am not going to get her to say more, so it would probably be critical.  I'm not immune to criticism but in this particular case I've probably already heard it all and agree with most.  Still I am intrigued.  The subjects shift to my lack-of-work job, my ideas for another tattoo and Halloween.

It turns out the question leads to more harm then good.  Not with Sam but with someone else.  Maybe I already know the answers to the why.  I have my own opinions.  They have been mentioned before.  I've considered them and I know I am not ready to change them.

We all make choices.  God knows, mine aren't always good-- at least not good for me.  Sometimes though, someone thinks the choice is good for them and that makes it good enough.

The Rainbow

It spanned the road in the distance, as if we would reach the end if we drove long enough.  The colors were all visible red, orange, yellow, green, blue-- even indigo.  As we continued driving, we saw the other end disappearing into the dark gray bank of clouds above.  Below the first a second reflected the rays of the sun, more transparent then the first but still magnificent to behold together.

Max was in the back seat of the car with his friend.  I handed them my sunglasses.  The polarized lenses enhanced the clarity.  I wanted him to enjoy something you see only once or twice in a life time.  A rainbow so bright you can believe in the pot at the end..

In moments they were gone. The clouds softened, loosing their sense of ominus and it was just another fall Saturday afternoon.  The air thick with the threat of rain.  The sun threatenig to gain control of the skies.

Homework Part I

He comes in through the front door, it has been unlocked for days.  The white tee-shirt he is wearing looks stretched-out and worn.  I am sitting in front of my computer, at the my high top kitchen table.  I notice his hair is getting long again.  I am not sure whether it his desire to grow it out is the reason  or the fact his mother is reluctant to take him to get it cut.

Twin A is my oldest son-- oldest by like five minutes.  I usually refer to him as taking on the roll of the middle child but Twin b has been wearing those shoes lately.  Twin A is very sedate tonight.  He doesn't put up a fuss as we do his homework.  I am unaccustomed to such patience coming from him.  We do his math problems.  I try to explain the theory behind the work.  He shakes his head, yes when I ask if he understands.  He doesn't complain when we do a few extra problems.

"Your mother didn't understand this?"  I ask, a bit surprised.

"She says you were some kind of brainiac in school."

"Apparently, it would appear that way if she didn't get this."

When we finish, he runs upstairs to spend the rest of his time here on the Xbox 360.  It is as peaceful here as it can be with a sixteen year old over.