This is from Katie's Point of view
Recently in an interview I was asked what my passion was. I had no clue how to answer that because in all honesty I don't think I have one. Most people I know at least had some inkling at this point in their life. And certain people like Charlie and Nick had known since early childhood. Jerks! Not really, I'm just completely envious is all.
If I were being completely honest here I would have to say I peeked around the age of nine. Back in elementary school when the entire class got birthday invites before we reached the social eliticism of middle school I dominated games. Not board/card/video games, but the social games that oddly enough required little to no actual social skills: Red Rover, Red Light Green Light, Duck Duck Goose, and Musical Chairs. These games didn't really require need much tactic; you just needed to be aware of your opponents. What I liked best about these games was that they all had hard and fast rules that left little room for creative variations.
Most people hate being put in a box yet this is where I feel most comfortable. Rules are a good thing. Tell me where to be, what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. If you leave me to my own devices the Apocalypse may happen. Maybe not but let's not chance it. Math was my favorite subject in school for the same reason I enjoyed those childhood games; there is only one path to the end result. Put me in a creative writing class and you'll find me crying in the corner balled up in the fetal position. How am I supposed to know what Walt Whitman was trying to convey in "Leaves of Grass"? Why didn't someone ask him while he was still alive? And how is finding this out going to benefit me in any way? Waste of time if you ask me.
Charlie was certifiably nuts. It made no sense to me how you could live out of a duffel bag for years with no clear direction or plan. He completely ignores practical matters such as food, shelter, supplies, and the finances to take care of those things. Nick on the other hand was the kind of guy that had the next twenty years mapped out. He had a day planner that he scheduled his life in and a dry erase board on the fridge with reminders for upcoming events during the week. Stable, dependable, reliable Nick. Erratic, unpredictable, and flaky Charlie.
Being with Nick would be easy. He always ironed out the details for our plans and organized household matters then just filled me in on what I needed to know. He was a paint by numbers. His touch, his smell, his laugh sent warmth in my body. Moving in with him after I graduated seemed natural to me because he was so safe and familiar. May sound boring to most but this gave me a great sense of comfort in a world full of so many uncomfortable things.
I was on my bed reading a book when my door flew open. Charlie was flushed in the face as he marched towards me. There's that unpredictability rearing its ugly head-literally. All I could do was look at him with a deer in headlights expression because I had no clue what this was about.
"Do you make a habit of fucking guys on the living room floor and then never talking to them again?
My jaw dropped. How was I supposed to respond to that? "It's not like that Charlie."
"I don't know what you think of me, but I'm not that guy. I won't be your barometer to see if you have feelings for Nick. This isn't a Coke and Pepsi taste test over here." His voice softened and he sat next to me on the bed. "That meant something to me Katie. You mean something to me."
"Oh my god. Seriously? You need to know I'm not the naive stupid little girl everyone thinks I am. This is so typical of you. You found something that interests you for the moment. Wow, I guess I should be tickled pink that its' me like all the other girls. Here's the thing you'll eventually get bored, pack up your duffel bag and leave."
"I'm not going to walk away with my tail between my legs like Nick did when you brushed him off. And you know what Katie? You are a scared little girl. Something different came your way and because you have no clue with to do with it you decide to push it away. Guess what I'm not going to let you. I have never wanted anything more in my life than you. That's just not something you give up without a fight."
"What about Nick? I thought you said you wouldn't go there because I was his girl."
Charlie smiled, "Well first of all if I recall the way things happened, you went there that day in the living room. And if after four years Nick hasn't grown a pair to make a move then that's his problem, not mine."
"Nick and I have history. You and I just met."
"Having history with someone doesn't mean you have a future with them." Damn him! That actually makes a lot of sense.
"Yeah but with you there are no guarantees."
"Nick can't give you any guarantees either. Life doesn't have many of them. Katie you have to take chances." He leaned over, kissed my cheek, and then got up to leave.
"Giving up so quickly?" I teased.
"No, giving you some time to think. You know where to find me."
When prepping for the SAT's they tell you tricks for answering the multiple choice questions. Of the four one will be obviously wrong and can quickly be discarded. Then there's one maybe answer. That leaves two strong possibilities. But this is life and not a scantron test.
Visiters
Adventures in Online Dating
Delusions, we all have them. Most of us exaggerate our circumstances in one direction or the other. For me personally I would tend to downplay everything positive about myself: I'm morbidly obese, grotesquely ugly, have no skills/talents, insert random insult here. Thankfully now I would like to believe I have a more healthy outlook on myself. Well i don't think I'm the most amazing person that ever graced this Earth, I do find myself pretty amazing. Thank you to the friends, family, and therapists that beat it into my head.
I have to laugh about this whole online dating experience, especially the last couple of months in particular. The two guys from craigslist. One guy boasted he was looking to fall in love again. His ad talked about romance and searching for something real. Obviously this appealed to me. We exchanged about two emails with the usual pleasantries: age, name, location, and hobbies before he told me about his strong sexual appetite and wanted to know if I had the stamina to keep up. NEXT.
The other guy wasn't attractive to me in the slightest possible way but I thought he had a nice personality so I decided to give it a shot. After about four days of texting he commented on my big boobs and made sexual innuendos. NEXT!
Then I saw an ad from a guy I dated briefly (he had a picture and used his real name in the ad) grossly lying about who he is and his circumstances. He also claimed to be the man EVERY woman wants. It's true that most women I know line up to date womanizing pot heads who work three jobs to make ends meet and get off on verbal abuse. NEXT!
Thank you Ilana once again for the craigslist intervention.
Because I have a severe lack of a social life, online dating still seemed like a viable option for me. I took the liberty of moving on to more "reputable" sites like www.match.com which claims they have more successful relationships than any other site.
Now I get putting your best foot forward when it comes to dating. You may primp yourself up more while highlighting your best personality traits and desperately trying to bury your less than desirable ones. This is a popular method to bait someone in then overtime they can learn how annoying you really are. Maybe because I'm getting older I just don't want to play these games anymore, so I'm putting it out there. The real Laura. If they don't like it then they can feel free to move on.
Match.com allows you to describe your traits such as height, religious views, political views, education level. These should all be pretty straight forward. The one that seems to confuse so many people is body type: slender, athletic and toned, a few extra pounds, full figured, heavyset, hefty, curvy. Now at first I classified myself as curvy, but then realized full figured was a better fit. Either way I have pictures of myself so people can decide my levels of chunkiness for themselves.
Countless guys have NO clue what they look like. This could be attributed to severe head trauma or vision impairment, not sure. I have come across at least a couple dozen profiles where at least in the photos the guys look more than 100 pounds overweight yet they classify themselves as average, a few extra pounds, or the one I came across today "athletic and toned". There is a difference between pectoral muscles and man boobs or so I thought. I guess it's all up to interpretation but if you have man boobs and a giant beer gut...well I think 99% of people would agree you aren't "athletic and toned". I'm 4'11'', should I start describing myself as tall? The thing is, why lie if you're going to post pictures that prove you're full of shit? Or maybe this is how they really see themselves.
It got me to thinking....what else are these guys being creative about? When they say they have a PHD does it really mean GED? Does master chef mean you run the deep fryer at Burger King? How about exercising five days a week, are you counting the 10-foot walk from the front door of your house to your car? I don't even want to know how I should misinterpret "loves kids" and "real close with my family"....
You gotta love the jaded profiles "No cheaters, no liars, no manipulators, no drama queens." Good to know because if someone hadn't specified that then I would have to assume those were the exact things they were looking for in an ideal match. And obviously a liar/manipulator/cheater/drama queen would out of their own decency for this person understand that this excludes them and not respond to this person's ad.
Then there are the guys who claim "I'm just looking to meet new people and see where it goes. I like people from all backgrounds and walks of life. If there's no spark we can always be friends. Looks not important." Sounds like a decent guy right? So I email them that I liked their profile and we can try to be friends and see where it goes from there...they read my email, look at my profile and never respond. Hmmmm. I guess being open to all kinds of people has certain exclusions afterall.
I will be the first to admit that I am a very weak technical writer and no matter how many times I proofread something there are still bound to be mistakes that escape me. However when you type a small paragraph about yourself without capital letters, punctuation, or proper grammar I am going to question your level of intelligence. Example: i luv going to the mooovies on wknds. This is a personal ad, not a text message to your drinking buddy. Maybe they were drunk/high/illiterate when they posted their ad.
Pictures that should never be posted on an ad when searching for your soul mate. Pictures you took of yourself with your cell phone in a public restroom, pictures of you draped all over other girls, pictures of you getting shitfaced, your high school senior photo from more than ten years ago. Just suggestions. When a guy specifically states he's done with the whole bar scene and he posts 10 photos of him at a bar drinking with his friends, well isn't that kind of sending a duel message? Then again maybe it's just me whose confused.
Speaking of sending a duel message, how about the guy who under the category "have any kids" stated "no". Then he went on to describe how much he loves his son. Another question I thought was pretty straight forward but maybe it was tougher than I thought?!
Evasiveness. Guys who leave excessive blanks on their profile for fairly important things: occupation, any pets, education level, religion, hobbies. And add that to a profile without any pictures. Clearly I am intrigued by these men of mystery and must know more. Really if you put zero time/effort into creating your profile then don't be surprised when zero women waste their time/effort responding to it.
There was this guy on match.com that "winked" at me, then sent me a bold email "Hi". His profile really caught my eye so I emailed him "You seem like a great guy, I would really like to chat with you." No response....WTF? This guy approached me. Clearly my mutual interest must have offended or scared him off.
My last peeve of this site. Match.com continually sends me matches that are looking for a girl that is not me: "catholic" "slender" "never married". What's the point in responding to these guys even if they do interest me since I am clearly not someone who would interest them? And why is it that almost EVERY profile shows a guy searching for a slender girl over 6' tall? Even the dwarf circus clown guys are looking for this in a woman. Even the athletic/toned guys that are more than 100 pounds overweight want this kind of woman. And thank you match.com for sending me "new matches" emails that are recycled from matches you sent me a couple of weeks prior.
Match.com says "1 out of 5 relationships starts online, most of these through match.com"...they need to add a disclaimer "fat chicks need not apply."
I have to laugh about this whole online dating experience, especially the last couple of months in particular. The two guys from craigslist. One guy boasted he was looking to fall in love again. His ad talked about romance and searching for something real. Obviously this appealed to me. We exchanged about two emails with the usual pleasantries: age, name, location, and hobbies before he told me about his strong sexual appetite and wanted to know if I had the stamina to keep up. NEXT.
The other guy wasn't attractive to me in the slightest possible way but I thought he had a nice personality so I decided to give it a shot. After about four days of texting he commented on my big boobs and made sexual innuendos. NEXT!
Then I saw an ad from a guy I dated briefly (he had a picture and used his real name in the ad) grossly lying about who he is and his circumstances. He also claimed to be the man EVERY woman wants. It's true that most women I know line up to date womanizing pot heads who work three jobs to make ends meet and get off on verbal abuse. NEXT!
Thank you Ilana once again for the craigslist intervention.
Because I have a severe lack of a social life, online dating still seemed like a viable option for me. I took the liberty of moving on to more "reputable" sites like www.match.com which claims they have more successful relationships than any other site.
Now I get putting your best foot forward when it comes to dating. You may primp yourself up more while highlighting your best personality traits and desperately trying to bury your less than desirable ones. This is a popular method to bait someone in then overtime they can learn how annoying you really are. Maybe because I'm getting older I just don't want to play these games anymore, so I'm putting it out there. The real Laura. If they don't like it then they can feel free to move on.
Match.com allows you to describe your traits such as height, religious views, political views, education level. These should all be pretty straight forward. The one that seems to confuse so many people is body type: slender, athletic and toned, a few extra pounds, full figured, heavyset, hefty, curvy. Now at first I classified myself as curvy, but then realized full figured was a better fit. Either way I have pictures of myself so people can decide my levels of chunkiness for themselves.
Countless guys have NO clue what they look like. This could be attributed to severe head trauma or vision impairment, not sure. I have come across at least a couple dozen profiles where at least in the photos the guys look more than 100 pounds overweight yet they classify themselves as average, a few extra pounds, or the one I came across today "athletic and toned". There is a difference between pectoral muscles and man boobs or so I thought. I guess it's all up to interpretation but if you have man boobs and a giant beer gut...well I think 99% of people would agree you aren't "athletic and toned". I'm 4'11'', should I start describing myself as tall? The thing is, why lie if you're going to post pictures that prove you're full of shit? Or maybe this is how they really see themselves.
It got me to thinking....what else are these guys being creative about? When they say they have a PHD does it really mean GED? Does master chef mean you run the deep fryer at Burger King? How about exercising five days a week, are you counting the 10-foot walk from the front door of your house to your car? I don't even want to know how I should misinterpret "loves kids" and "real close with my family"....
You gotta love the jaded profiles "No cheaters, no liars, no manipulators, no drama queens." Good to know because if someone hadn't specified that then I would have to assume those were the exact things they were looking for in an ideal match. And obviously a liar/manipulator/cheater/drama queen would out of their own decency for this person understand that this excludes them and not respond to this person's ad.
Then there are the guys who claim "I'm just looking to meet new people and see where it goes. I like people from all backgrounds and walks of life. If there's no spark we can always be friends. Looks not important." Sounds like a decent guy right? So I email them that I liked their profile and we can try to be friends and see where it goes from there...they read my email, look at my profile and never respond. Hmmmm. I guess being open to all kinds of people has certain exclusions afterall.
I will be the first to admit that I am a very weak technical writer and no matter how many times I proofread something there are still bound to be mistakes that escape me. However when you type a small paragraph about yourself without capital letters, punctuation, or proper grammar I am going to question your level of intelligence. Example: i luv going to the mooovies on wknds. This is a personal ad, not a text message to your drinking buddy. Maybe they were drunk/high/illiterate when they posted their ad.
Pictures that should never be posted on an ad when searching for your soul mate. Pictures you took of yourself with your cell phone in a public restroom, pictures of you draped all over other girls, pictures of you getting shitfaced, your high school senior photo from more than ten years ago. Just suggestions. When a guy specifically states he's done with the whole bar scene and he posts 10 photos of him at a bar drinking with his friends, well isn't that kind of sending a duel message? Then again maybe it's just me whose confused.
Speaking of sending a duel message, how about the guy who under the category "have any kids" stated "no". Then he went on to describe how much he loves his son. Another question I thought was pretty straight forward but maybe it was tougher than I thought?!
Evasiveness. Guys who leave excessive blanks on their profile for fairly important things: occupation, any pets, education level, religion, hobbies. And add that to a profile without any pictures. Clearly I am intrigued by these men of mystery and must know more. Really if you put zero time/effort into creating your profile then don't be surprised when zero women waste their time/effort responding to it.
There was this guy on match.com that "winked" at me, then sent me a bold email "Hi". His profile really caught my eye so I emailed him "You seem like a great guy, I would really like to chat with you." No response....WTF? This guy approached me. Clearly my mutual interest must have offended or scared him off.
My last peeve of this site. Match.com continually sends me matches that are looking for a girl that is not me: "catholic" "slender" "never married". What's the point in responding to these guys even if they do interest me since I am clearly not someone who would interest them? And why is it that almost EVERY profile shows a guy searching for a slender girl over 6' tall? Even the dwarf circus clown guys are looking for this in a woman. Even the athletic/toned guys that are more than 100 pounds overweight want this kind of woman. And thank you match.com for sending me "new matches" emails that are recycled from matches you sent me a couple of weeks prior.
Match.com says "1 out of 5 relationships starts online, most of these through match.com"...they need to add a disclaimer "fat chicks need not apply."
Sex and the Katie
From Katie's perspective again.
Romantic Comedies lie. So do yourself a favor and DO NOT use them as a guide for what to expect when it comes to love. It is because of these movies that my little head got filled up with big ideas about what kissing would be like; everything happens in slow motion, two people lock eyes, eighties soft rock plays in the background, the guy takes the girl's face into his hands, the kiss is soft and sweet and sensual.
Well my experiences have been slightly different. My first kiss happened at a classmate's birthday party my parents insisted I go to. I was thirteen and completely clueless about a game called "Seven Minutes in Heaven". Heaven by the way means a broom closet in case you were wondering. Now I know I am no expert on kissing especially since this was my first but one thought kept running through my head the entire time "should there be this much drool?" Just go with it Katie.
Then there was the boob grab, it's like he was trying to remove them. It hurt but I didn't want to complain because maybe this was how it was supposed to be. If I seemed ungrateful then no guy would go near me again. When I came home that night I saw bruises all over my tiny breasts and just assumed that I did something wrong. This led to me avoiding all things kissing and groping for several years.
My second kiss happened at a tail gate party my junior year of high school. Once again I need to explain that my parents practically shoved me out the door to go. My life functions perfectly fine without football and all things related to it, yet here I was attempting to come out of my social cocoon. the whole thing happened so fast I didn't even realize it until five minutes later when I was able to process it all. Some random guy I had never seen before stumbled up to me, kissed me, then pulled back and vomited off to the side. I really want to believe the vomiting had nothing to do with me and everything to do with all the underaged drinking, but I can't be 100% sure. I guess I'm just not all that good at this stuff. At this point it was just the matter of flipping a coin to decide between a convent or becoming a crazy cat lady.
Making love in Romantic Comedies is usually this epic event. The woman always has perfect hair and make-up, sexy lingerae, and never sweats...this is really important. She also makes sexy sounds that I can't quite describe; imagine a hyena, well the opposite of that. It's a lot of pressure and I just didn't think I was up for the challenge. Virginity suited me well much like being toothless and illiterate suits most southerners. Really don't feel bad about me, I am okay with it all.
Or at least I was. My first time didn't include any Barry White, white votive candles, or a bubble bath. Why a bubble bath? I have no idea, but romantic comedies highly reccomend the bubble bath scenerio. My first time was unexpected and clumsy. Emphasis on the unexpected. Nick and I were hanging out in his room playing Phase 10. Feeling a bit cold he suggested I grab a sweater from his dresser. As I opened a drawer I heard him quickly shout for me not to go in that drawer but it was too late. I saw it. The napkin I had doodled on the day we met.
I turned towards him holding it in my hand, "Why do you still have this?"
He reached for my other hand and pulled me down next to him. He sighed. I could see just how nervous he was about what he was about to say. "This is why you've never seen me have a girlfriend. There's only been one girl I wanted and I just didn't know how to get her."
"I am so confused."
"I'm not. I know how I feel about you. I've known it for a while now, but I was afraid to tell you." He leaned in to give me a soft peck on the lips. No drool, no vomiting. So this is what it's supposed to be like? This is nice. The impulse to run away was completely gone. All I wanted was to drink him in. Or maybe get a little drunk on him.
The only person I've ever undressed is myself and that doesn't always go so smoothly. It's no surprise that Nick's shirt got stuck on his head or that I fumbled with his belt for about five minutes; but just like when he trained me back at Banjo's, Nick smiled and helped me out. Pretty sure patience and hormones don't go hand in hand yet with Nick they did. He kept asking if I was sure that I wanted to do this. All I could do was keep kissing him in response. I've never been so good with words. Then again the kissing thing was new to me too. Hope I was doing it okay. Should people talk about what they're doing during the sex? Probably not unless its things like "harder" or "not that hole". These are things I've heard other people talk about. What hole would be the wrong one? Oh....nevermind.
It hurt. Why didn't I know that it would hurt. Damn my parents for never having the talk with me. And those stupid videos in school only teach you about your mentrual cycle, nothing about sex. Nick was so gentle. He kept asking if I was okay. When it was over he held me and told me he loved me. I didn't say it back. I do love Nick, but I'm not sure in what way or how much. All the sex did was confuse me more. Are we a couple now? Do we have to do this on a regular basis and if so how often? Will I ever enjoy it? I'm sure it wasn't Nick's fault.
Back into my social cocoon. Avoidance was the best approach at this point at least until I figured some things out. Each morning I waited until I had heard Nick leave for the cafe before I left my room to get ready for work. When I came home I would sneak up to my room. Nick kept texting me but I ignored those too. Douchebag was an appropriate label for me. Isn't the guy supposed to avoid the girl after he's scored with her? I felt very 007 about it all or maybe Ann Frank was a better reference. Either way I knew eventually something would have to give.
It did give or at least Uncle Tommy's heart did. Some things trump me feeling weird around the guy who popped my cherry. There was a knock on my bedroom door early evening. During the cold war Nick hadn't attempted to come to me directly, but it was actually Charlie. He briefed me on what had happened, Nick was already on his way to the hospital. Charlie said he had some things to take care of and he would meet us there.
The drive to the hopsital was a blur. Speed walking down the corriders was a blur. Every part of me felt the warmth of Nick's embrace when I fell into his arms. His tears soaked the right shoulder of my sweater. There were so many things I wanted to say. How was Uncle Tommy doing? How was Nick doing? Who was running things at the Cafe? Charlie should be here soon. The rambling noise continued in my head until the whisper of Nick in my ear interupted it, "I'm glad you're here."
"Me too." Why did I want to hold him and run away from him all at the same time? Maybe my attachment to him is because he's so familiar to me. Maybe sex ruined everything. Of all the things I could have said this was what I came up with, "I need to pee." He nodded and I slowly walked away. I walked passed the bathroom, out the door, and back into my car. The ride back to the house was crystal clear. I noticed every tree, traffic light, pedestrian, and random dog that put distance between me and Nick.
Charlie was sitting on the living room floor in the dark strumming his banjo. My words had escaped me. For some unknown reason I was drawn to him in that moment. Darkness was something that seemed to bring Charlie and me together. He was uncomplicated. He was just a guy crashing here until he moved onto his next adventure.
Here is where I went from chaste to whore in the matter of a week. My bestfriend confesses he has romantic feelings for me and I sleep with him. Then confused by everything that follows I sleep with his cousin, our roommate, my other friend on the living room floor. Now I'm certainly no expert on sex, but apparently it doesn't stop hurting. It wasn't just physical though, my heart was hurting too.
Romantic Comedies lie. So do yourself a favor and DO NOT use them as a guide for what to expect when it comes to love. It is because of these movies that my little head got filled up with big ideas about what kissing would be like; everything happens in slow motion, two people lock eyes, eighties soft rock plays in the background, the guy takes the girl's face into his hands, the kiss is soft and sweet and sensual.
Well my experiences have been slightly different. My first kiss happened at a classmate's birthday party my parents insisted I go to. I was thirteen and completely clueless about a game called "Seven Minutes in Heaven". Heaven by the way means a broom closet in case you were wondering. Now I know I am no expert on kissing especially since this was my first but one thought kept running through my head the entire time "should there be this much drool?" Just go with it Katie.
Then there was the boob grab, it's like he was trying to remove them. It hurt but I didn't want to complain because maybe this was how it was supposed to be. If I seemed ungrateful then no guy would go near me again. When I came home that night I saw bruises all over my tiny breasts and just assumed that I did something wrong. This led to me avoiding all things kissing and groping for several years.
My second kiss happened at a tail gate party my junior year of high school. Once again I need to explain that my parents practically shoved me out the door to go. My life functions perfectly fine without football and all things related to it, yet here I was attempting to come out of my social cocoon. the whole thing happened so fast I didn't even realize it until five minutes later when I was able to process it all. Some random guy I had never seen before stumbled up to me, kissed me, then pulled back and vomited off to the side. I really want to believe the vomiting had nothing to do with me and everything to do with all the underaged drinking, but I can't be 100% sure. I guess I'm just not all that good at this stuff. At this point it was just the matter of flipping a coin to decide between a convent or becoming a crazy cat lady.
Making love in Romantic Comedies is usually this epic event. The woman always has perfect hair and make-up, sexy lingerae, and never sweats...this is really important. She also makes sexy sounds that I can't quite describe; imagine a hyena, well the opposite of that. It's a lot of pressure and I just didn't think I was up for the challenge. Virginity suited me well much like being toothless and illiterate suits most southerners. Really don't feel bad about me, I am okay with it all.
Or at least I was. My first time didn't include any Barry White, white votive candles, or a bubble bath. Why a bubble bath? I have no idea, but romantic comedies highly reccomend the bubble bath scenerio. My first time was unexpected and clumsy. Emphasis on the unexpected. Nick and I were hanging out in his room playing Phase 10. Feeling a bit cold he suggested I grab a sweater from his dresser. As I opened a drawer I heard him quickly shout for me not to go in that drawer but it was too late. I saw it. The napkin I had doodled on the day we met.
I turned towards him holding it in my hand, "Why do you still have this?"
He reached for my other hand and pulled me down next to him. He sighed. I could see just how nervous he was about what he was about to say. "This is why you've never seen me have a girlfriend. There's only been one girl I wanted and I just didn't know how to get her."
"I am so confused."
"I'm not. I know how I feel about you. I've known it for a while now, but I was afraid to tell you." He leaned in to give me a soft peck on the lips. No drool, no vomiting. So this is what it's supposed to be like? This is nice. The impulse to run away was completely gone. All I wanted was to drink him in. Or maybe get a little drunk on him.
The only person I've ever undressed is myself and that doesn't always go so smoothly. It's no surprise that Nick's shirt got stuck on his head or that I fumbled with his belt for about five minutes; but just like when he trained me back at Banjo's, Nick smiled and helped me out. Pretty sure patience and hormones don't go hand in hand yet with Nick they did. He kept asking if I was sure that I wanted to do this. All I could do was keep kissing him in response. I've never been so good with words. Then again the kissing thing was new to me too. Hope I was doing it okay. Should people talk about what they're doing during the sex? Probably not unless its things like "harder" or "not that hole". These are things I've heard other people talk about. What hole would be the wrong one? Oh....nevermind.
It hurt. Why didn't I know that it would hurt. Damn my parents for never having the talk with me. And those stupid videos in school only teach you about your mentrual cycle, nothing about sex. Nick was so gentle. He kept asking if I was okay. When it was over he held me and told me he loved me. I didn't say it back. I do love Nick, but I'm not sure in what way or how much. All the sex did was confuse me more. Are we a couple now? Do we have to do this on a regular basis and if so how often? Will I ever enjoy it? I'm sure it wasn't Nick's fault.
Back into my social cocoon. Avoidance was the best approach at this point at least until I figured some things out. Each morning I waited until I had heard Nick leave for the cafe before I left my room to get ready for work. When I came home I would sneak up to my room. Nick kept texting me but I ignored those too. Douchebag was an appropriate label for me. Isn't the guy supposed to avoid the girl after he's scored with her? I felt very 007 about it all or maybe Ann Frank was a better reference. Either way I knew eventually something would have to give.
It did give or at least Uncle Tommy's heart did. Some things trump me feeling weird around the guy who popped my cherry. There was a knock on my bedroom door early evening. During the cold war Nick hadn't attempted to come to me directly, but it was actually Charlie. He briefed me on what had happened, Nick was already on his way to the hospital. Charlie said he had some things to take care of and he would meet us there.
The drive to the hopsital was a blur. Speed walking down the corriders was a blur. Every part of me felt the warmth of Nick's embrace when I fell into his arms. His tears soaked the right shoulder of my sweater. There were so many things I wanted to say. How was Uncle Tommy doing? How was Nick doing? Who was running things at the Cafe? Charlie should be here soon. The rambling noise continued in my head until the whisper of Nick in my ear interupted it, "I'm glad you're here."
"Me too." Why did I want to hold him and run away from him all at the same time? Maybe my attachment to him is because he's so familiar to me. Maybe sex ruined everything. Of all the things I could have said this was what I came up with, "I need to pee." He nodded and I slowly walked away. I walked passed the bathroom, out the door, and back into my car. The ride back to the house was crystal clear. I noticed every tree, traffic light, pedestrian, and random dog that put distance between me and Nick.
Charlie was sitting on the living room floor in the dark strumming his banjo. My words had escaped me. For some unknown reason I was drawn to him in that moment. Darkness was something that seemed to bring Charlie and me together. He was uncomplicated. He was just a guy crashing here until he moved onto his next adventure.
Here is where I went from chaste to whore in the matter of a week. My bestfriend confesses he has romantic feelings for me and I sleep with him. Then confused by everything that follows I sleep with his cousin, our roommate, my other friend on the living room floor. Now I'm certainly no expert on sex, but apparently it doesn't stop hurting. It wasn't just physical though, my heart was hurting too.
Charlie's Journey
Relationships are complicated and anyone who says differently is full of shit. There is always some battle where one person expects the other person to be something they aren't. Maybe if we learned to just accept things as they are no matter how ugly or unpleasant they may be then we'd all be just fine.
My old man wanted me to be like Nick. Dependable, reliable, puts the family above all else good old Nick. It didn't matter how many trophies or titles I got with all the sports I played, at the end of the day I wasn't enough of a family man for him. I didn't have anything personal against the cafe; I just preferred to be the person on the other side of the counter getting my coffee and scones to go because I was on my way to living life. So for all the screaming girls chasing me around and all the guys trying to be just like me, well the one person I wanted to be proud of me never was. I guess you could say I had daddy issues, mine didn't get me on a stripper pole though.
Drinking was an escape. Drinking was about doing things my way. The coach, the teammates, the girls, my family...none of them could get to me when I was drunk. An occasional escape became a daily thing. It never seem to cause too many issues at least as far as I knew, that is until that day sophomore year away at school. I showed up to a game shitfaced. It was an injury that got me benched, but not my own. As a defender it's my job to guard the goal and back up my offensive players, yet I could barely stand up straight. Overall the day was a blur: he got taken out on a stretcher, my coach saw that I was drunk, hobbling off the ice and never looking back.
Most people would have crawled back home to their loving families with their tails between their legs but I was too embarrassed. Deep down I knew I could only return as a better version of the boy who had left two years before. And I had no idea how I was going to do that. Sobriety was probably a good place to start.
It was music that showed me the way. I ended up at Blues festival in Tulsa working as a roadie for a no-name band. This was where the post cards started. I wrote to Nick in lyrics that described my journey far better than I could have own my own. Then I became a bouncer for a night club in Albuquerque. My family would kill me if they knew at one point I was a barista at a small cafe in New Orleans, the difference was that this place had live music. No matter where I went or what I did it was essential that music was a part of it. A childhood toy had now become my sole companion on my adventures, the little banjo my dad got me so many years back.
It's important I clear up a giant misconception about me, Charlie O'Shay is by no means a womanizer. It's really a half truth at best. There were girls, too many to count, yet none of them had any substance or depth to them. Sex was just sex; a thrill for the moment that left an empty longing for something none of them could give me. Makes me sound like a chick but it's true. Much like my various jobs, when I realized the girl I was with could offer me no more than what she had already given I knew it was time to move on.
After five years on the road it was time to come back. The old clunker took me back to a road not so well traveled, the road back in time. My old man was less than thrilled to hear from me and I had lost touch with all of my high school buddies years back so that left my uncle and aunt. Surprisingly they weren't home, yet the old hide-a-key was in the same place. After nearly twelve hours on the road I was in desperate need of something to sink my teeth into.
She caught me by surprise. Like a bee Katie didn't let her small stature stand in the way of her standing her ground. She wasn't trying to impress me, wasn't intimated by the way I looked, and was completely unlike any girl I had ever met before her. I assumed she was Nick's girlfriend although both have since assured me that there's nothing going on there. Part of me believed there was still more to them then they were letting on.
Relationships are complicated. About four months after I had gotten back my old man had a heart attack. It had to have been the stress of running Banjo's combined with many years of indulging on copious amounts of baked goods. Nick and Katie went to see him at the hospital right away. I stayed behind and it's not because I'm some cold hearted bastard, quite the opposite actually. It was hard to face him after all this time. What do I even say? Maybe I could start with something like "Hey I'm Charlie, remember me?"
In the dark of the living room I sat on the floor strumming the strings of my banjo while humming along. I didn't even hear Katie come in. Quietly she sat down beside me and placed her hand on top of mine. Sometimes you can have an entire conversation without even saying a word. My fingers gently brushed a lose curl off her face. For some reason she wasn't wearing her glasses; good they hid the depth of her eyes. She slowly leaned in inviting me to kiss her. And I did.
Speeding pulses, panting, and other small sounds filled the stillness of the room. Just me, just her, just us. She tasted so sweet. Her nails grazing against my back sent me chills all over. The warmth of her body soothed me. I shut my eyes wanting every other sensation to heighten. I needed this moment to ground me, no more running away. No place had ever felt like home to me, not even the place I had grown up in. Katie felt like home.
My old man wanted me to be like Nick. Dependable, reliable, puts the family above all else good old Nick. It didn't matter how many trophies or titles I got with all the sports I played, at the end of the day I wasn't enough of a family man for him. I didn't have anything personal against the cafe; I just preferred to be the person on the other side of the counter getting my coffee and scones to go because I was on my way to living life. So for all the screaming girls chasing me around and all the guys trying to be just like me, well the one person I wanted to be proud of me never was. I guess you could say I had daddy issues, mine didn't get me on a stripper pole though.
Drinking was an escape. Drinking was about doing things my way. The coach, the teammates, the girls, my family...none of them could get to me when I was drunk. An occasional escape became a daily thing. It never seem to cause too many issues at least as far as I knew, that is until that day sophomore year away at school. I showed up to a game shitfaced. It was an injury that got me benched, but not my own. As a defender it's my job to guard the goal and back up my offensive players, yet I could barely stand up straight. Overall the day was a blur: he got taken out on a stretcher, my coach saw that I was drunk, hobbling off the ice and never looking back.
Most people would have crawled back home to their loving families with their tails between their legs but I was too embarrassed. Deep down I knew I could only return as a better version of the boy who had left two years before. And I had no idea how I was going to do that. Sobriety was probably a good place to start.
It was music that showed me the way. I ended up at Blues festival in Tulsa working as a roadie for a no-name band. This was where the post cards started. I wrote to Nick in lyrics that described my journey far better than I could have own my own. Then I became a bouncer for a night club in Albuquerque. My family would kill me if they knew at one point I was a barista at a small cafe in New Orleans, the difference was that this place had live music. No matter where I went or what I did it was essential that music was a part of it. A childhood toy had now become my sole companion on my adventures, the little banjo my dad got me so many years back.
It's important I clear up a giant misconception about me, Charlie O'Shay is by no means a womanizer. It's really a half truth at best. There were girls, too many to count, yet none of them had any substance or depth to them. Sex was just sex; a thrill for the moment that left an empty longing for something none of them could give me. Makes me sound like a chick but it's true. Much like my various jobs, when I realized the girl I was with could offer me no more than what she had already given I knew it was time to move on.
After five years on the road it was time to come back. The old clunker took me back to a road not so well traveled, the road back in time. My old man was less than thrilled to hear from me and I had lost touch with all of my high school buddies years back so that left my uncle and aunt. Surprisingly they weren't home, yet the old hide-a-key was in the same place. After nearly twelve hours on the road I was in desperate need of something to sink my teeth into.
She caught me by surprise. Like a bee Katie didn't let her small stature stand in the way of her standing her ground. She wasn't trying to impress me, wasn't intimated by the way I looked, and was completely unlike any girl I had ever met before her. I assumed she was Nick's girlfriend although both have since assured me that there's nothing going on there. Part of me believed there was still more to them then they were letting on.
Relationships are complicated. About four months after I had gotten back my old man had a heart attack. It had to have been the stress of running Banjo's combined with many years of indulging on copious amounts of baked goods. Nick and Katie went to see him at the hospital right away. I stayed behind and it's not because I'm some cold hearted bastard, quite the opposite actually. It was hard to face him after all this time. What do I even say? Maybe I could start with something like "Hey I'm Charlie, remember me?"
In the dark of the living room I sat on the floor strumming the strings of my banjo while humming along. I didn't even hear Katie come in. Quietly she sat down beside me and placed her hand on top of mine. Sometimes you can have an entire conversation without even saying a word. My fingers gently brushed a lose curl off her face. For some reason she wasn't wearing her glasses; good they hid the depth of her eyes. She slowly leaned in inviting me to kiss her. And I did.
Speeding pulses, panting, and other small sounds filled the stillness of the room. Just me, just her, just us. She tasted so sweet. Her nails grazing against my back sent me chills all over. The warmth of her body soothed me. I shut my eyes wanting every other sensation to heighten. I needed this moment to ground me, no more running away. No place had ever felt like home to me, not even the place I had grown up in. Katie felt like home.
What's going on in Nick's pretty little head?
Everyone has something they were meant to do. My rightful place was alongside my uncle at Banjo's. After school most kids wanted to play hockey or baseball in the streets, my passion was the cafe. It became a game to me to run around to all the tables making sure they were fully supplied with napkins, artificial sweeteners, and utensils. Uncle Tommy played along by giving me folded napkins with "secret orders" written on them. Table 3 needs more water or bathroom needs more toilet paper.
I guess the fact that I spent so much time at the cafe, well honestly all my spare time, didn't exactly help my social life. While Charlie was busy being Mr. All Star High School Super Stud I was planting the seed for my future career in the family bussiness. Don't picture me as a complete social lepper. There were a few girls here and there although none of them quite understood my love for Banjo's; unfortunately it always lead to the demise of the romance. My senior year of high school things got pretty serious with someone but when she discovered her plans to go out west for school weren't compatible with my plans to stay home and work at Banjo's well....I'm sure you can guess what happened. After prom we parted ways and I resolved to just focus on work.
Then came Katie. She immediatly caught my eye amongst the applicants fighting for one of the three open spots at the cafe. She was just sitting in a corner doodling on a napkin without a care in the world. And this girl was so cute; soft wavy brown hair pulled back, light olive skin, glasses perched up on her tiny nose. She was smiling to herself as if she was in a private joke no one else knew about. Everything in me told me I had to get to know her.
Within that first brief conversation she made a controversial joke about my uncle that would have probably offended most people, but I found her brand of humor bold and refreshing. Uncle Tommy always had this policy about hiring the person, not the application. That day I made my very first execitive decision in the ten years I had been working for my uncle.
"I found someone to work here. Her name is Katie Keppler and she has the deepest brown eyes I have ever seen. Plus she's real funny." I was seriously suffering from a case of verbal diarhea, but I was so excited that I just couldn't help it.
Uncle Tommy let out a hearty laugh, "Nick my boy, I love you like a son. Trust your instincts, if you feel we need a brown eyed beauty to work here then she's hired."
"What? I never said she was beautiful."
"Your smile and rosy cheeks gave you away. Try to play it cool around her though. The last thing I need is a sexual harrasment suit." He slung his arm around me reassurangly.
So I played it cool, a little too cool actually. I kept work strictly work for almost an entire year; never once grew a pair and just asked her out. It was a double edged sword because the more time I spent with her the more I liked her and the more I liked her the higher the intimidation factor set in. When we eventually did start hanging out at work it was to do platonic things like help her study for test. Besides I was completely convinced she didn't see me as anything other than a friend. She was this smart college girl and I was this townie. If only I were more like my cross-country girl magnet cousin.
Very passively I started having movie nights with Katie picking romantic comedies where best friends fell in love. This plan seemed genius or at least to me it did. We'd snuggle up on the couch with some junk food in the dark just the two of us. I kept thinking, make a move you idiot. Look into her eyes, sweep her hair off her face, and lean in slowly until your lips meet hers. Never happened. Nope. After a couple of months it finally hit me: Nick you are not setting the mood for a perfect romance, you are setting things up to be her girl friend. Seriously just add manicures, gossiping about boys, and braiding each other's hair. Once again I think "idiot" is the best worn label.
I didn't think it was possible to fall in love with someone you've never even kissed. Yet another thing I was clearly wrong about. Thanksgiving two years ago we were in a State of Emergency which prevented Katie from getting home to her family. Uncle Tommy invited her to join us for the holidays. He even offered up Charlie's old room for her to stay in. A melting pot of emotions ran inside me: excited, nervous, pure joy.
The moment it happened the two of us were outside building a snowman, Katie's idea by the way. Seeing the snow flakes fall onto her red knit cap, the way she was glowing in the moon light, and the smile she gave to me...I just thought to myself "it doesn't get any better than this." Everytime we're together we laugh so much it hurts my stomach. She's someone I can open up to about anything except obviously my feelings for her. And she gets me; I feel like Katie is the first person outside my family who sees my passion for the cafe as something admirable while others saw it as me settling.
Finally everuything was coming together after four years. Katie and I were living together, although as platonic roommates, hey I'll take what I can get. My OCD skills were coming to my advantage as I had been planning for weeks just how I was going to take things to the next level with the girl I had been secretly pining for for what seemed like an eternity.
I was at Banjo's after hours spreading yellow rose petals in a trail leading up to the table where we met. On the table there was a napkin where I had drawn a stick figure girl in likeness to Katie. Next to the napkin was a burnt muffin. Katie was supposed to meet me at Banjo's to help with some last minute inventory issue. Everything was all set up when my phone unexpectantly rang with an unknown number.
It was the phone call that changed everything. Charlie was back in town. I know I should have been happy to reunite with him after all these years, yet all I could think about was his horrible timing. What took me four years to do Charlie could easily accomplish in four minutes. Katie would have probably already fallen under his spell by the time I got back home.
A couple of weeks after the dreaded phone call came the dreaded conversation. Charlie strolled into the kitchen with a pile of dirty dishes in hand. After he dumped them in the sink he just went for it, "What's the deal with Katie?"
"Don't go there. She's not one of your little adventures."
"Oh, so she's one of yours?"
"It's not like that. Just leave her alone, okay?"
"No problem. It's just, well she's real cute. I'm kind of wondering why you haven't gone after her. Is there something seriously wrong I should know about? Is she really a guy?"
It didn't matter what I said or didn't say because in the end Charlie what do what Charlie wanted to do. He always did. Left Banjo's behind to go out west to school, ditched his family to travel to god knows where, and then he showed up on my doorstep without notice expecting me to cater to him. Now Katie peeked his interest for probably no other reason than the fact that she was female and lived across the hall.
He didn't know that Katie had three different laughs: the nervous one, the practical joke one, or the genuine happy feeling one. Or how about her affinity for doodling when she's anxious. Then there's the weird eating habits, she'll get her bagels with one side slathered in cream cheese and the other all buttered up claiming it's the best of both worlds. And snuggling with Katie is the perfect end to any day. She's not the type of girl you seduce and discard, Katie Keppler is the girl you fall in love with.
I guess the fact that I spent so much time at the cafe, well honestly all my spare time, didn't exactly help my social life. While Charlie was busy being Mr. All Star High School Super Stud I was planting the seed for my future career in the family bussiness. Don't picture me as a complete social lepper. There were a few girls here and there although none of them quite understood my love for Banjo's; unfortunately it always lead to the demise of the romance. My senior year of high school things got pretty serious with someone but when she discovered her plans to go out west for school weren't compatible with my plans to stay home and work at Banjo's well....I'm sure you can guess what happened. After prom we parted ways and I resolved to just focus on work.
Then came Katie. She immediatly caught my eye amongst the applicants fighting for one of the three open spots at the cafe. She was just sitting in a corner doodling on a napkin without a care in the world. And this girl was so cute; soft wavy brown hair pulled back, light olive skin, glasses perched up on her tiny nose. She was smiling to herself as if she was in a private joke no one else knew about. Everything in me told me I had to get to know her.
Within that first brief conversation she made a controversial joke about my uncle that would have probably offended most people, but I found her brand of humor bold and refreshing. Uncle Tommy always had this policy about hiring the person, not the application. That day I made my very first execitive decision in the ten years I had been working for my uncle.
"I found someone to work here. Her name is Katie Keppler and she has the deepest brown eyes I have ever seen. Plus she's real funny." I was seriously suffering from a case of verbal diarhea, but I was so excited that I just couldn't help it.
Uncle Tommy let out a hearty laugh, "Nick my boy, I love you like a son. Trust your instincts, if you feel we need a brown eyed beauty to work here then she's hired."
"What? I never said she was beautiful."
"Your smile and rosy cheeks gave you away. Try to play it cool around her though. The last thing I need is a sexual harrasment suit." He slung his arm around me reassurangly.
So I played it cool, a little too cool actually. I kept work strictly work for almost an entire year; never once grew a pair and just asked her out. It was a double edged sword because the more time I spent with her the more I liked her and the more I liked her the higher the intimidation factor set in. When we eventually did start hanging out at work it was to do platonic things like help her study for test. Besides I was completely convinced she didn't see me as anything other than a friend. She was this smart college girl and I was this townie. If only I were more like my cross-country girl magnet cousin.
Very passively I started having movie nights with Katie picking romantic comedies where best friends fell in love. This plan seemed genius or at least to me it did. We'd snuggle up on the couch with some junk food in the dark just the two of us. I kept thinking, make a move you idiot. Look into her eyes, sweep her hair off her face, and lean in slowly until your lips meet hers. Never happened. Nope. After a couple of months it finally hit me: Nick you are not setting the mood for a perfect romance, you are setting things up to be her girl friend. Seriously just add manicures, gossiping about boys, and braiding each other's hair. Once again I think "idiot" is the best worn label.
I didn't think it was possible to fall in love with someone you've never even kissed. Yet another thing I was clearly wrong about. Thanksgiving two years ago we were in a State of Emergency which prevented Katie from getting home to her family. Uncle Tommy invited her to join us for the holidays. He even offered up Charlie's old room for her to stay in. A melting pot of emotions ran inside me: excited, nervous, pure joy.
The moment it happened the two of us were outside building a snowman, Katie's idea by the way. Seeing the snow flakes fall onto her red knit cap, the way she was glowing in the moon light, and the smile she gave to me...I just thought to myself "it doesn't get any better than this." Everytime we're together we laugh so much it hurts my stomach. She's someone I can open up to about anything except obviously my feelings for her. And she gets me; I feel like Katie is the first person outside my family who sees my passion for the cafe as something admirable while others saw it as me settling.
Finally everuything was coming together after four years. Katie and I were living together, although as platonic roommates, hey I'll take what I can get. My OCD skills were coming to my advantage as I had been planning for weeks just how I was going to take things to the next level with the girl I had been secretly pining for for what seemed like an eternity.
I was at Banjo's after hours spreading yellow rose petals in a trail leading up to the table where we met. On the table there was a napkin where I had drawn a stick figure girl in likeness to Katie. Next to the napkin was a burnt muffin. Katie was supposed to meet me at Banjo's to help with some last minute inventory issue. Everything was all set up when my phone unexpectantly rang with an unknown number.
It was the phone call that changed everything. Charlie was back in town. I know I should have been happy to reunite with him after all these years, yet all I could think about was his horrible timing. What took me four years to do Charlie could easily accomplish in four minutes. Katie would have probably already fallen under his spell by the time I got back home.
A couple of weeks after the dreaded phone call came the dreaded conversation. Charlie strolled into the kitchen with a pile of dirty dishes in hand. After he dumped them in the sink he just went for it, "What's the deal with Katie?"
"Don't go there. She's not one of your little adventures."
"Oh, so she's one of yours?"
"It's not like that. Just leave her alone, okay?"
"No problem. It's just, well she's real cute. I'm kind of wondering why you haven't gone after her. Is there something seriously wrong I should know about? Is she really a guy?"
It didn't matter what I said or didn't say because in the end Charlie what do what Charlie wanted to do. He always did. Left Banjo's behind to go out west to school, ditched his family to travel to god knows where, and then he showed up on my doorstep without notice expecting me to cater to him. Now Katie peeked his interest for probably no other reason than the fact that she was female and lived across the hall.
He didn't know that Katie had three different laughs: the nervous one, the practical joke one, or the genuine happy feeling one. Or how about her affinity for doodling when she's anxious. Then there's the weird eating habits, she'll get her bagels with one side slathered in cream cheese and the other all buttered up claiming it's the best of both worlds. And snuggling with Katie is the perfect end to any day. She's not the type of girl you seduce and discard, Katie Keppler is the girl you fall in love with.
The Piece Formerly Known As Complications: Part IV
When you walk into Banjo's the aroma of freshly baked goods and blended coffee tickles the inside of your nose. An array of wooden tables with stools scattered about or the cozy corner as I referred to it with sofas, oversized pillows on the floor, and that papazan chair I hoarded during my breaks. There was always a variety of music playing softly through the overhead speakers that ranged from classical to modern to hip-hop.
The staff actually enjoyed working there. It was rare that someone clock watched or desperaely tried to get out of a shift. People often volunteered to stay longer, come in earlier, or offer an extra hand during the busier seasons. I would have to attribute that to Uncle Tommy. If the Pillsbury Dough Boy could come to life, he would have been Uncle Tommy. The man always had a smile on his face, rubbed his rotund belly when happy, and was a self proclaimed hug monster. He had this full laugh that echoed throughout the cafe. He never lost his cool even with the most grisly of customers. Everyone loved him, yet another reason a job at Banjo's was so coveted. Uncle Tommy hired based on personality, not skill set. "Skills you can teach, but a warm heart and sense of humor you cannot."
Even though I was one of three new hires, Nick seemed to take a personal interest in me. Maybe because the other two newbies weren't insurnace liabilities in the waiting. This is not an exageration. I mopped the floors and forgot to put the "caution wet floors sign up", thankfully it was me who ended up slipping and falling on my flat ass. Or the time I set off the smoke detectors when I set a muffin on fire, don't ask how I did it, I'm just skilled like that. How was I to know you had to use a filter when making a pot of coffee? That was a messy clean-up. My personal favorite was when I got my apron caught in the toaster.
It must be a family trait because Nick never made me feel bad about my mishaps. We laughed at each one, together. I even coined the term "pulling a Katie" when someone made a goof up. I think it's easy when something is second nature to you that you would get frustrated with someone who is so utterly clueless, but Nick told me he empathized with me.
"Come on Mr. O'Shay, name one thing that you aren't good at?"
Nick was sweeping up at the end of a shift. It was just me and him, we were the usual crew to shut things down each night. And this was something I admired about him, even though he was management he was never one to hesitate to get his hands dirty just like the rest of us. "You want a list? I can't dance, can't carry a tune to save my life, have no athletic skills what-so-ever, I can't snap with my left hand. Now take my cousin, he can do all this things with flair and at the same time."
"Ah Big Foot."
Nick emptied the dust pan into the trash while nodding. "He was the guy that could do anything, the local hero. I was never Nick O'Shay to our classmates, I was Charlie's cousin whats his name again?"
"Do you resent him?"
"Oh no, I admire him. For the longest time I wanted to be him, but I'm perfectly happy these days being plain old reliable boring Nick."
"Hey I'm sure Charlie's shit stinks just like the rest of us."
Shock was painted all over his face, "Katie Keppler did you just use profanity?"
"I know, I'm sorry. Please don't tell anyone."
"How could I? You think anyone would believe me."
Even though college is supposed to be the time in your life where you finally get to make your own choices after having choices constantly shoved down your throat....well they fail to mention this little thing called pre-requisites that take up your entire freshman year. My sanity would have been long gone during that year had it not been for Nick. Not only did he send the occasional warm muffin my way, but then there were the text messages.
robust woman came in insisting on skim milk in her coffee, no sugar then made certian I put half a pound of butter on her bagel.
The blueberry muffin stands alone. Why is there no love for the Blueberry muffin? One is the loneliest number....
teenager walked in and wanted to know if we accept cash as a method of payment. I almost wanted to give him his food for free.
Fire truck sped past the store today, made me think of you
I would never tell Nick this, but he was my first real friend. Growing up I had a tendancy to keep to myself. It wasn't that I didn't want friends, I just didn't know how to get any. Countless afternoons were spent creating plays with my barbies, my cabbage patch kids, my troll dolls. I guess my specialty was inanimate companions. I shyed away from clubs, sports, and any sort of social activity with my peers. Loner by choice. Don't start to feel bad for me because I liked it that way. Not every little girl dreams of being head cheerleader or prom queen.
My friendship with Nick wasn't something I pursued, it just sort of happened. It began that day he hired me. Next thing we were spending a lot of time together at work while he trained me. During down time we exchanged our mad life skills; he taught me how to play Phase 10, I taught him the chicken dance. Seemed like a fair trade. There we so many late nights he would hang out at my dorm helping me study for tests. Maybe the reason we latched onto one another is because we were both lonely, just for very different reasons. Nick had managed to cocoon himself at the cafe and I had managed to cocoon myself within myself.
The night we went to see the Vagina Monologues together I think our mere co-worker/acquitanceship blossomed to the next level. Part one was the actual play, part two was the evening stroll through campus afterwards.
With his hands in his pockets and his eyes glued to the pavement he mumbled, "Do girls really do all that?"
"Do what?"
"Fake orgasms that well."
My face turned completely red, "I wouldn't know. Never been in that situation."
"Wow, so you've had nothing but first class lovers. Good for you." When he noticed my lack of response he put his hand on arm to stop me from walking. "Katie?"
"You'll laugh at me."
"I always laugh at you, laughter is the foundation of our friendship."
I looked up into his hazel eyes, "Not about this Nick, this is different."
"Katie you can tell me anything, I hope you know that." His smile was the reassurance I needed.
"I've never been with a guy, in that way or hardly in any way really. It's embaressing because I think most of my classmates were doing things while I was at home reading my Sweet Valley High Books."
"I think The Wakefield twins can take pride in preserving the virginity of young people all over the country." He laughed.
"How do you know about those books? Is there something you aren't telling me?" I poked him playfully in his side.
"It's time I told you the truth about me as well, but just like I didn't judge you, you cannot judge me."
Suddenly I got very serious and quiet. "I promise."
"I used to be a girl." My eyes widened with shock until Nick burst into laughter.
"You silly goose!"
He pulled me in for a hug, our first hug. Physical affection had previously been such a foreign concept to met yet in that moment I realized something amazing I had been missing out on. The connection you can feel with someone just through touch. The warmth of our two bodies on that cold winter night. Nick O'shay gave me something I couldn't explain even if I tried.
The staff actually enjoyed working there. It was rare that someone clock watched or desperaely tried to get out of a shift. People often volunteered to stay longer, come in earlier, or offer an extra hand during the busier seasons. I would have to attribute that to Uncle Tommy. If the Pillsbury Dough Boy could come to life, he would have been Uncle Tommy. The man always had a smile on his face, rubbed his rotund belly when happy, and was a self proclaimed hug monster. He had this full laugh that echoed throughout the cafe. He never lost his cool even with the most grisly of customers. Everyone loved him, yet another reason a job at Banjo's was so coveted. Uncle Tommy hired based on personality, not skill set. "Skills you can teach, but a warm heart and sense of humor you cannot."
Even though I was one of three new hires, Nick seemed to take a personal interest in me. Maybe because the other two newbies weren't insurnace liabilities in the waiting. This is not an exageration. I mopped the floors and forgot to put the "caution wet floors sign up", thankfully it was me who ended up slipping and falling on my flat ass. Or the time I set off the smoke detectors when I set a muffin on fire, don't ask how I did it, I'm just skilled like that. How was I to know you had to use a filter when making a pot of coffee? That was a messy clean-up. My personal favorite was when I got my apron caught in the toaster.
It must be a family trait because Nick never made me feel bad about my mishaps. We laughed at each one, together. I even coined the term "pulling a Katie" when someone made a goof up. I think it's easy when something is second nature to you that you would get frustrated with someone who is so utterly clueless, but Nick told me he empathized with me.
"Come on Mr. O'Shay, name one thing that you aren't good at?"
Nick was sweeping up at the end of a shift. It was just me and him, we were the usual crew to shut things down each night. And this was something I admired about him, even though he was management he was never one to hesitate to get his hands dirty just like the rest of us. "You want a list? I can't dance, can't carry a tune to save my life, have no athletic skills what-so-ever, I can't snap with my left hand. Now take my cousin, he can do all this things with flair and at the same time."
"Ah Big Foot."
Nick emptied the dust pan into the trash while nodding. "He was the guy that could do anything, the local hero. I was never Nick O'Shay to our classmates, I was Charlie's cousin whats his name again?"
"Do you resent him?"
"Oh no, I admire him. For the longest time I wanted to be him, but I'm perfectly happy these days being plain old reliable boring Nick."
"Hey I'm sure Charlie's shit stinks just like the rest of us."
Shock was painted all over his face, "Katie Keppler did you just use profanity?"
"I know, I'm sorry. Please don't tell anyone."
"How could I? You think anyone would believe me."
Even though college is supposed to be the time in your life where you finally get to make your own choices after having choices constantly shoved down your throat....well they fail to mention this little thing called pre-requisites that take up your entire freshman year. My sanity would have been long gone during that year had it not been for Nick. Not only did he send the occasional warm muffin my way, but then there were the text messages.
robust woman came in insisting on skim milk in her coffee, no sugar then made certian I put half a pound of butter on her bagel.
The blueberry muffin stands alone. Why is there no love for the Blueberry muffin? One is the loneliest number....
teenager walked in and wanted to know if we accept cash as a method of payment. I almost wanted to give him his food for free.
Fire truck sped past the store today, made me think of you
I would never tell Nick this, but he was my first real friend. Growing up I had a tendancy to keep to myself. It wasn't that I didn't want friends, I just didn't know how to get any. Countless afternoons were spent creating plays with my barbies, my cabbage patch kids, my troll dolls. I guess my specialty was inanimate companions. I shyed away from clubs, sports, and any sort of social activity with my peers. Loner by choice. Don't start to feel bad for me because I liked it that way. Not every little girl dreams of being head cheerleader or prom queen.
My friendship with Nick wasn't something I pursued, it just sort of happened. It began that day he hired me. Next thing we were spending a lot of time together at work while he trained me. During down time we exchanged our mad life skills; he taught me how to play Phase 10, I taught him the chicken dance. Seemed like a fair trade. There we so many late nights he would hang out at my dorm helping me study for tests. Maybe the reason we latched onto one another is because we were both lonely, just for very different reasons. Nick had managed to cocoon himself at the cafe and I had managed to cocoon myself within myself.
The night we went to see the Vagina Monologues together I think our mere co-worker/acquitanceship blossomed to the next level. Part one was the actual play, part two was the evening stroll through campus afterwards.
With his hands in his pockets and his eyes glued to the pavement he mumbled, "Do girls really do all that?"
"Do what?"
"Fake orgasms that well."
My face turned completely red, "I wouldn't know. Never been in that situation."
"Wow, so you've had nothing but first class lovers. Good for you." When he noticed my lack of response he put his hand on arm to stop me from walking. "Katie?"
"You'll laugh at me."
"I always laugh at you, laughter is the foundation of our friendship."
I looked up into his hazel eyes, "Not about this Nick, this is different."
"Katie you can tell me anything, I hope you know that." His smile was the reassurance I needed.
"I've never been with a guy, in that way or hardly in any way really. It's embaressing because I think most of my classmates were doing things while I was at home reading my Sweet Valley High Books."
"I think The Wakefield twins can take pride in preserving the virginity of young people all over the country." He laughed.
"How do you know about those books? Is there something you aren't telling me?" I poked him playfully in his side.
"It's time I told you the truth about me as well, but just like I didn't judge you, you cannot judge me."
Suddenly I got very serious and quiet. "I promise."
"I used to be a girl." My eyes widened with shock until Nick burst into laughter.
"You silly goose!"
He pulled me in for a hug, our first hug. Physical affection had previously been such a foreign concept to met yet in that moment I realized something amazing I had been missing out on. The connection you can feel with someone just through touch. The warmth of our two bodies on that cold winter night. Nick O'shay gave me something I couldn't explain even if I tried.
Complications: Part 3
Clearly this series has a mind of it's own and will be much longer than three parts, especially if I decide to expand it into a novel.
"Hey we're good over here, how about you?" Charlie had his hand on my arm so we wouldn't lose track of one another in the blackout. "No stay at the store, I got this. Just tell me where I can find some flashlights?"
There was a real bad storm outside and the little kid in me had goosebumps all over my arms. Thank goodness Charlie was here, a thought I would have never had a month ago when we first met. Things really began to turn around the day he drove me to my interview and a friendship has been slowly blossoming ever since. Obviously it's nothing like it is with me and Nick, things with Charlie are different but a good kind of different I can't explain.
Charlie hangs up the phone,then leans to whisper in my ear, "Nick said there should be a flashlight in his top dresser drawer."
"It's not much but I have some candles and matches in my room. Do you want me to go grab them?"
"Sure. You do that then we'll meet back up in my room?"
Me alone with Charlie in his room wasn't a big deal, honestly. He was my roommate, we even ended up in the bathroom together sometimes like one of us brushing our teeth while the other showered. Things were very comfortable and casual around here. These days I was far less intimated by Charlie's extreme likeness to professional male models. And it's not like he'd ever be into a plain Jane like me anyways, that's just not how the world works. Beautiful people tend to stay with their own kind.
A few minutes later I walked into his room with my supplies. Charlie was sitting on his bed aka a mattress on the floor studying something in his hand while he held a flashlight in the other. Dramatically I cleared my throat, "You'll have to deal with the fact that all my candles are scented, it's the one girly trap I have fallen into, the affinity for pretty smelling things."
When he didn't answer I walked closer and saw just what he was so intrigued by, the post cards. Charlie looked up, "He kept them all, I had no idea."
I sat down next to him, "Yeah but he could never figure them out. It's like you were writing in code."
"He showed them to you?"
A red blush spread across my face, hopefully the dark would mask it. "Don't worry I couldn't figure out what you were saying either."
Charlie grinned at me and then handed one over, "Really?"
Closing Time
Time for you to go out, go out into the world
Closing Time
Turn the lights up over every boy and every girl
Closing time
One last call for alcohol so finish all your whiskey or beer
Closing Time
You don't have to go home but you can't stay here
Suddenly it hit me, "You were writing him music lyrics?"
He nodded, "It was more than that though, I was telling him a story. I remember what this was about. At that point I had been sixty days sober."
"You're an alcoholic? I'm so sorry."
"I'm not sorry, it taught me a lot about myself. I've been sober for three years now. That was how I got my hockey injury, playing drunk." Charlie told me that it started as a party thing during high school and then progressed to the point where he couldn't go a day without a drink. When he lost his hockey scholarship and left school he had to make a choice: come home or try to make it on his own. To Charlie he felt he would find greater strength in the latter.
What started as a journey towards sober living expanded into an adventure to discover life. He picked up odd jobs across the country: hot dog vendor at a race track, roadie for a not so famous band, vet tech at an animal shelter, nature tour guide. His theory was that you never know what you'll like or won't like until you give it an honest try; and if it didn't feel right then time to pack up and move on. He only kept with him what he could shove in an over sized dufflebag and often stayed at places that were pre-furnished.
"Katie Keppler have you ever been in love?"
"I don't think I've ever been in like. Dating and me just don't mix."
"Oh, so you're that kind of girl."
Here comes the blushing again, "No, definitely not. I just don't get guys is all."
"You seem to get Nick pretty well."
"Yeah but he's not like a real guy."
"Ouch, I'll make sure not to repeat that one. Besides all us guys are the same: pizza, football, and scratching ourselves. Oh we like boobs too."
I laughed, "Wow all these years I have been racking my brain and it really was so ridiculously simple. How about you?"
"I like pizza, football, and the good ball scratch. Boobs are nice, won't deny that."
"No silly, have you ever been in love?"
His hazel eyes pierced right through me, "I have, but not with a person. When I was real little, maybe around three years old I discovered my love of music."
"And here I had been told your only love was hockey."
"That's what everyone thinks, except my dad. He was the one who gave me this tiny banjo. I carried it with me everywhere and got pretty good at it too. Then school set in as well as the peer pressure to be an all-star everything sports related."
I had always been curious how the cafe got it's name yet I had never bothered to ask. Now pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together. Uncle Tommy bought a cafe in hopes of it being a father/son thing and when it didn't pan out it broke his heart. Thank god for Nick stepping in. Nick was the son Tommy probably wished he had had.
Charlie put his arm around me, "Candle light, storm, just the two of us. This would be the perfect stage for seduction. But Katie Keppler isn't the type of girl a guy seduces."
I sighed, "Believe me I know. Hence the lack of male suitors at my door."
He shook his head, "It wasn't a dig at you, it was a compliment. You're the girl that men fall in love with."
We leaned towards each other, I could feel his warm breath against my face. Before the kiss could happen the electricity came back on including Charlie's TV at full blast. I jumped up and began to walk away, "Some things are better left in the dark."
"Hey we're good over here, how about you?" Charlie had his hand on my arm so we wouldn't lose track of one another in the blackout. "No stay at the store, I got this. Just tell me where I can find some flashlights?"
There was a real bad storm outside and the little kid in me had goosebumps all over my arms. Thank goodness Charlie was here, a thought I would have never had a month ago when we first met. Things really began to turn around the day he drove me to my interview and a friendship has been slowly blossoming ever since. Obviously it's nothing like it is with me and Nick, things with Charlie are different but a good kind of different I can't explain.
Charlie hangs up the phone,then leans to whisper in my ear, "Nick said there should be a flashlight in his top dresser drawer."
"It's not much but I have some candles and matches in my room. Do you want me to go grab them?"
"Sure. You do that then we'll meet back up in my room?"
Me alone with Charlie in his room wasn't a big deal, honestly. He was my roommate, we even ended up in the bathroom together sometimes like one of us brushing our teeth while the other showered. Things were very comfortable and casual around here. These days I was far less intimated by Charlie's extreme likeness to professional male models. And it's not like he'd ever be into a plain Jane like me anyways, that's just not how the world works. Beautiful people tend to stay with their own kind.
A few minutes later I walked into his room with my supplies. Charlie was sitting on his bed aka a mattress on the floor studying something in his hand while he held a flashlight in the other. Dramatically I cleared my throat, "You'll have to deal with the fact that all my candles are scented, it's the one girly trap I have fallen into, the affinity for pretty smelling things."
When he didn't answer I walked closer and saw just what he was so intrigued by, the post cards. Charlie looked up, "He kept them all, I had no idea."
I sat down next to him, "Yeah but he could never figure them out. It's like you were writing in code."
"He showed them to you?"
A red blush spread across my face, hopefully the dark would mask it. "Don't worry I couldn't figure out what you were saying either."
Charlie grinned at me and then handed one over, "Really?"
Closing Time
Time for you to go out, go out into the world
Closing Time
Turn the lights up over every boy and every girl
Closing time
One last call for alcohol so finish all your whiskey or beer
Closing Time
You don't have to go home but you can't stay here
Suddenly it hit me, "You were writing him music lyrics?"
He nodded, "It was more than that though, I was telling him a story. I remember what this was about. At that point I had been sixty days sober."
"You're an alcoholic? I'm so sorry."
"I'm not sorry, it taught me a lot about myself. I've been sober for three years now. That was how I got my hockey injury, playing drunk." Charlie told me that it started as a party thing during high school and then progressed to the point where he couldn't go a day without a drink. When he lost his hockey scholarship and left school he had to make a choice: come home or try to make it on his own. To Charlie he felt he would find greater strength in the latter.
What started as a journey towards sober living expanded into an adventure to discover life. He picked up odd jobs across the country: hot dog vendor at a race track, roadie for a not so famous band, vet tech at an animal shelter, nature tour guide. His theory was that you never know what you'll like or won't like until you give it an honest try; and if it didn't feel right then time to pack up and move on. He only kept with him what he could shove in an over sized dufflebag and often stayed at places that were pre-furnished.
"Katie Keppler have you ever been in love?"
"I don't think I've ever been in like. Dating and me just don't mix."
"Oh, so you're that kind of girl."
Here comes the blushing again, "No, definitely not. I just don't get guys is all."
"You seem to get Nick pretty well."
"Yeah but he's not like a real guy."
"Ouch, I'll make sure not to repeat that one. Besides all us guys are the same: pizza, football, and scratching ourselves. Oh we like boobs too."
I laughed, "Wow all these years I have been racking my brain and it really was so ridiculously simple. How about you?"
"I like pizza, football, and the good ball scratch. Boobs are nice, won't deny that."
"No silly, have you ever been in love?"
His hazel eyes pierced right through me, "I have, but not with a person. When I was real little, maybe around three years old I discovered my love of music."
"And here I had been told your only love was hockey."
"That's what everyone thinks, except my dad. He was the one who gave me this tiny banjo. I carried it with me everywhere and got pretty good at it too. Then school set in as well as the peer pressure to be an all-star everything sports related."
I had always been curious how the cafe got it's name yet I had never bothered to ask. Now pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together. Uncle Tommy bought a cafe in hopes of it being a father/son thing and when it didn't pan out it broke his heart. Thank god for Nick stepping in. Nick was the son Tommy probably wished he had had.
Charlie put his arm around me, "Candle light, storm, just the two of us. This would be the perfect stage for seduction. But Katie Keppler isn't the type of girl a guy seduces."
I sighed, "Believe me I know. Hence the lack of male suitors at my door."
He shook his head, "It wasn't a dig at you, it was a compliment. You're the girl that men fall in love with."
We leaned towards each other, I could feel his warm breath against my face. Before the kiss could happen the electricity came back on including Charlie's TV at full blast. I jumped up and began to walk away, "Some things are better left in the dark."
Complications: Part 2
You can imagine my shock when I walk into the house with an armful of groceries and see some random guy scouring through our fridge. I freeze, he's much bigger than me and assaulting him with snack foods just doesn't seem like a viable option. As if he senses me he turns around, makes direct eye contact, and states, "Slim pickings here sweetheart."
"Well we usually go food shopping on Sundays, wasn't expecting any company...wait who the heck are you?"
He shuts the fridge and begins laughing, "Heck? I didn't realize I had warped into a sixties TV show."
"What are you doing here?"
The mysterious intruder pulls out his cell phone and starts dialing. The smirk on his face looks so familiar even though the rest of him was so foreign. I studied his strong muscular build, broad shoulders, shoulder length wavy strawberry blonde hair. Fair skin with a speckle of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Deep husky voice didn't match this Ireland Poster Boys outer appearance.
He may have been talking into his phone but he was looking right at me with those hazel eyes, "Hey it's me. Yeah, I'm back in town. No clue. So, I met your girlfriend...cute. Oh she isn't? Interesting..."
"Is that Nick?"
He ignored me and kept going, "Listen I need a place to crash, you know on the outs with the old man. When will you back? Okay, see you then."
I placed the groceries on the kitchen island, "You can't stay here."
"Why not?"
"I don't even know you."
"Oh but you do, you just don't know it yet."
"Charlie?"
Never before would I have considered myself an uptight person, but I guess a person like Charlie can bring that out in someone. Wears his muddy shoes all over the house, leaves dirty dishes everywhere, hogs the main TV in the living room, refuses to help out at all around the house, and how could I forget the time I complained he was using all the hot water in the shower...his response, "If it bothers you so much, you can get in here and join me."
I am not and will never be one of those girls that forgives a guy's major character flaws just because he's exceptionally good looking. Okay, I admitted I'm attracted to Charlie, but who wouldn't be? He may appear like a stallion yet he acts like a pig. You know what I mean. Never quite grasped how to put together a good metaphor.
Nick had insisted we watch "When Harry Met Sally" one night. We're just sitting on the couch with our home made ice cream sundeas. He turns to me, "Everything okay?"
"Yeah I'm fine." It's not worth it to complain about Charlie. First of all he's family to Nick, that's a line you just shouldn't cross. Secondly I wasn't the type to complain, I usually just suffered in silence which seemed to work out for everyone.
"I know he's a pain, but I couldn't turn my back on him."
I leaned my head on his shoulder, "That's one of the many reasons I adore you, you're such a good guy."
He sighed, "Yeah and good guys finish last."
"What are you talking about?"
Just as he was about to say something Charlie walked into the room, "Girls night in?"
Nick responded, "Yeah, do you want to join us?"
Charlie plopped down on the recliner across from us. "Is that a chick flick? This place is lacking some serious testosterone.Ice cream sundeas? You guys have a nice spread going here."
Nick stood up, "Let me grab you a bowl and spoon, be right back."
After he left the room I noticed Charlie staring at me. I snapped, "What?!"
"You're real cute, you know that?"
"Thanks?"
"I always see these girls trying to sex it up: push up bras, tight ass jeans or short skirts, spikey heals, tons of make-up. Most guys go for that sort of thing."
"And you don't?" Why was I even curious what kind of girl he liked, it's not as if I was interested in him. I wouldn't even know what a crush felt like, the last one I had had was in 1987. Can grown women even have crushes? Surely there is an age cut off for that type of thing.
"No, I usually do. But when all that stuff comes off, what are you left with? What's even more enticing to me is the girl that can look just as good in a pair of Mickey Mouse pajama bottoms, a hooded sweat shirt, and fuzzy socks, with her hair tied back." I surveyed myself to realize he had just described what I currently looked like.
"Are you hitting on me?"
"No. You're Nick's girl, would never do that."
"I'm not his girl, we're just friends."
He grabbed my spoon and began eating out of my dish without asking. How rude! "Oh but you are his girl, you just don't know it yet."
"Why do you keep saying that? I know a lot more than you think. I'm not some dumb chick. Maybe you don't know as much as you claim you do."
With that Nick put my bowl back down and began to leave the room, "Only a wise man can admit he's a fool, it is the foolish who claim to be wise." Who was this guy?
Katie Keppler had been referred to as many things in her life: awkward, clumsy, goofy, funny, silly, but never ever sexy. At least no one had said it to her face and she highly doubted anyone had said it behind her flat-assed back. Maybe some had called her cute, but cute as in adorable, not cute as in I want to take her home and do naughty things to her. This was probably why no one had ever done naughty things to her or with her. She was 5'2'', chubby, mousy brown frizzy hair that she always wore back, big puppy brown eyes, and a button nose. She considered herself as sexually enticing as a chipmonk.
If it can go wrong it will go wrong was the mantra of Katie's life, the following week I had finally managed to land a job interview with a local State Farm agent and my car had finally decided to die on me. For some odd reason I couldn't reach Nick by phone. Just as a panic attack was about to set in while I paced the kitchen in my one and only suit, Charlie strolled in with a pile of dirty dishes no doubt he'd be dumping in the sink for me to clean up.
In my frustration I shouted at him, "Can you please not treat Nick and I like your housewives?"
"Wow, now there's an interesting image, although I've never seen a housewife dress so formal." Those hazel eyes scanned me up and down.
"I have, had a job interview today."
"And here I thought you had sworn your entire existence to Banjo's just like Nick."
"And if I had? At least I'm trying to do something with my life besides stink up the bathroom after a fast food binge."
"Oh honey you noticed? I did it all for you."
"I can't waste anymore time, I'm calling a cab." I walk over to the phone book when I felt Charlie's hand on my shoulder. A boy is touching me. When's the last time that happened? I mean Nick hugs and snuggles with me all the time, but that's not the same. Nick is my homey, Charlie is a walking fantasy...to some girls, not this girl, definitely not me even with his wavy long hair and tight body you could bounce things off of. What kinds of things? I don't know, but things that like to bounce. My internal rambling had completely drown Charlie out and he was saying something to me.
He repeated himself, "What happened to your car?"
"I don't know, it's been running sluggish for weeks and today it won't start at all. I was supposed to be on my way to State Farm already, I'm going to blow it."
"What time is the interview?"
"In like an hour."
He laughed, "Is it the Gail Ramsey Agency?"
"Yeah, why is that so funny?"
"Well that's like a ten minute drive from here, you have an hour until the interview and you're in Armageddon mode. Relax, I can drive you there. Then when we get back I'll take a look at your car."
"You would do that?"
Then he sand, "Hey like a good neighbor Charlie is there."
Sometimes you think you have someone completely figured out and it turns out you couldn't have been more wrong....
"Well we usually go food shopping on Sundays, wasn't expecting any company...wait who the heck are you?"
He shuts the fridge and begins laughing, "Heck? I didn't realize I had warped into a sixties TV show."
"What are you doing here?"
The mysterious intruder pulls out his cell phone and starts dialing. The smirk on his face looks so familiar even though the rest of him was so foreign. I studied his strong muscular build, broad shoulders, shoulder length wavy strawberry blonde hair. Fair skin with a speckle of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Deep husky voice didn't match this Ireland Poster Boys outer appearance.
He may have been talking into his phone but he was looking right at me with those hazel eyes, "Hey it's me. Yeah, I'm back in town. No clue. So, I met your girlfriend...cute. Oh she isn't? Interesting..."
"Is that Nick?"
He ignored me and kept going, "Listen I need a place to crash, you know on the outs with the old man. When will you back? Okay, see you then."
I placed the groceries on the kitchen island, "You can't stay here."
"Why not?"
"I don't even know you."
"Oh but you do, you just don't know it yet."
"Charlie?"
Never before would I have considered myself an uptight person, but I guess a person like Charlie can bring that out in someone. Wears his muddy shoes all over the house, leaves dirty dishes everywhere, hogs the main TV in the living room, refuses to help out at all around the house, and how could I forget the time I complained he was using all the hot water in the shower...his response, "If it bothers you so much, you can get in here and join me."
I am not and will never be one of those girls that forgives a guy's major character flaws just because he's exceptionally good looking. Okay, I admitted I'm attracted to Charlie, but who wouldn't be? He may appear like a stallion yet he acts like a pig. You know what I mean. Never quite grasped how to put together a good metaphor.
Nick had insisted we watch "When Harry Met Sally" one night. We're just sitting on the couch with our home made ice cream sundeas. He turns to me, "Everything okay?"
"Yeah I'm fine." It's not worth it to complain about Charlie. First of all he's family to Nick, that's a line you just shouldn't cross. Secondly I wasn't the type to complain, I usually just suffered in silence which seemed to work out for everyone.
"I know he's a pain, but I couldn't turn my back on him."
I leaned my head on his shoulder, "That's one of the many reasons I adore you, you're such a good guy."
He sighed, "Yeah and good guys finish last."
"What are you talking about?"
Just as he was about to say something Charlie walked into the room, "Girls night in?"
Nick responded, "Yeah, do you want to join us?"
Charlie plopped down on the recliner across from us. "Is that a chick flick? This place is lacking some serious testosterone.Ice cream sundeas? You guys have a nice spread going here."
Nick stood up, "Let me grab you a bowl and spoon, be right back."
After he left the room I noticed Charlie staring at me. I snapped, "What?!"
"You're real cute, you know that?"
"Thanks?"
"I always see these girls trying to sex it up: push up bras, tight ass jeans or short skirts, spikey heals, tons of make-up. Most guys go for that sort of thing."
"And you don't?" Why was I even curious what kind of girl he liked, it's not as if I was interested in him. I wouldn't even know what a crush felt like, the last one I had had was in 1987. Can grown women even have crushes? Surely there is an age cut off for that type of thing.
"No, I usually do. But when all that stuff comes off, what are you left with? What's even more enticing to me is the girl that can look just as good in a pair of Mickey Mouse pajama bottoms, a hooded sweat shirt, and fuzzy socks, with her hair tied back." I surveyed myself to realize he had just described what I currently looked like.
"Are you hitting on me?"
"No. You're Nick's girl, would never do that."
"I'm not his girl, we're just friends."
He grabbed my spoon and began eating out of my dish without asking. How rude! "Oh but you are his girl, you just don't know it yet."
"Why do you keep saying that? I know a lot more than you think. I'm not some dumb chick. Maybe you don't know as much as you claim you do."
With that Nick put my bowl back down and began to leave the room, "Only a wise man can admit he's a fool, it is the foolish who claim to be wise." Who was this guy?
Katie Keppler had been referred to as many things in her life: awkward, clumsy, goofy, funny, silly, but never ever sexy. At least no one had said it to her face and she highly doubted anyone had said it behind her flat-assed back. Maybe some had called her cute, but cute as in adorable, not cute as in I want to take her home and do naughty things to her. This was probably why no one had ever done naughty things to her or with her. She was 5'2'', chubby, mousy brown frizzy hair that she always wore back, big puppy brown eyes, and a button nose. She considered herself as sexually enticing as a chipmonk.
If it can go wrong it will go wrong was the mantra of Katie's life, the following week I had finally managed to land a job interview with a local State Farm agent and my car had finally decided to die on me. For some odd reason I couldn't reach Nick by phone. Just as a panic attack was about to set in while I paced the kitchen in my one and only suit, Charlie strolled in with a pile of dirty dishes no doubt he'd be dumping in the sink for me to clean up.
In my frustration I shouted at him, "Can you please not treat Nick and I like your housewives?"
"Wow, now there's an interesting image, although I've never seen a housewife dress so formal." Those hazel eyes scanned me up and down.
"I have, had a job interview today."
"And here I thought you had sworn your entire existence to Banjo's just like Nick."
"And if I had? At least I'm trying to do something with my life besides stink up the bathroom after a fast food binge."
"Oh honey you noticed? I did it all for you."
"I can't waste anymore time, I'm calling a cab." I walk over to the phone book when I felt Charlie's hand on my shoulder. A boy is touching me. When's the last time that happened? I mean Nick hugs and snuggles with me all the time, but that's not the same. Nick is my homey, Charlie is a walking fantasy...to some girls, not this girl, definitely not me even with his wavy long hair and tight body you could bounce things off of. What kinds of things? I don't know, but things that like to bounce. My internal rambling had completely drown Charlie out and he was saying something to me.
He repeated himself, "What happened to your car?"
"I don't know, it's been running sluggish for weeks and today it won't start at all. I was supposed to be on my way to State Farm already, I'm going to blow it."
"What time is the interview?"
"In like an hour."
He laughed, "Is it the Gail Ramsey Agency?"
"Yeah, why is that so funny?"
"Well that's like a ten minute drive from here, you have an hour until the interview and you're in Armageddon mode. Relax, I can drive you there. Then when we get back I'll take a look at your car."
"You would do that?"
Then he sand, "Hey like a good neighbor Charlie is there."
Sometimes you think you have someone completely figured out and it turns out you couldn't have been more wrong....
Complications: Part 1
This is a start of another fictional mini series that I believe will have three parts.
First and foremost I need to explain that I was never a casual sex kind of girl. There was never a time that I locked eyes with some cute guy across the room and then later on we ended up at his place on a first names, probably fakes names, only basis. No walk of shames, no "who was that guy from last night?", no emergency trips to Planned Parenthood in my lifetime. Something I actually don't share with two many people is that I didn't even lose my virginity until I was twenty-two years old. It's embarrassing. I wish I could chalk it up to me being super religious or an avid RPG player, but the truth was I was a girl with no game.
Now that we got all that out of the way....the real story began halfway through my freshman year at college. My parents had worked real hard to save up enough money to pay for my college, but if I wanted any petty cash then I needed to get a job. Here I was several hours away from home not knowing anyone, anywhere, or anything but my name. Hey there, I'm Katie Keppler. Nice alliteration, right?
There was this bakery/cafe about a five minute walk from campus called Banjo's. Needless to say this was a highly coveted place to work for us out-of-towner college folk, alternatives were the retail hell the mall offered which you needed a car to get to and most freshman didn't have cars or working an on campus job for about half the pay. My past work experience consisted of odd baby sitting jobs, so landing a spot at Banjo's was a long shot. What do they say "Aim for the moon and maybe you'll land on a star?" I was the kind of girl that was most likely to get plummeted with a stray asteroid in the process. Come to think of it I think that's what they voted me in High School.
Although I was still very unfamiliar with my new surroundings, I had heard Banjo's had an oversized bird bath/fountain in the front. The open house interview started 7 AM the Saturday after we had all arrived at school. They were looking to take on three new people. My heart sank when I showed up at 6:45 AM to an already overflowing line of fellow collegiates. Defeated I slumped into a table in the back contemplating if I should even try at this point. I grabbed a napkin and began doodling on it.
"Art major?"
I looked up to see this tall skinny guy with a head of dark brown curly hair. He was cute, but in a not so obvious way. I studied his flip flops, polo shirt, and board shorts. He must be sizing up his competition. Proudly I held up my napkin to display my stick figures, "Yeah, I'm actually on scholarship."
He sat down across from me, "Oh, then why do you need this job?"
"I don't, I'm actually the bosses mistress. He likes them young and dumb. Eighteen years old, actually I'm on the high end of the age range he prefers. I do it for the muffins."
He smirked, "I had no idea he was fooling around on the misses. Good leverage to use if I want to move up in this place."
My face turned red, "You work here?"
"Yeah, my Uncle Tommy owns the place. After what you told me, well it's going to be real awkward at Thanksgiving this year."
My parents had warned me my quick wit would get me in trouble one of these days and I guess today was the day. I immediately abandoned my napkin artwork and stood up to leave. "I am so sorry, I had no idea. See I'm a little socially retarded. Anyways good luck finding your three new people." Stop rambling you idiot.
He stood up and blocked my way out, "Two, we're hiring two new people."
"Oh the sign said three. I guess math and literacy aren't my strongest suits either. Thank God I've still got my art to fall back on."
"It did say three, but now we just need two more. I think you'd be great here, you're real funny. I'm Nick." He extended his hand to me.
"You're going to hire me?"
"Well how could we not hire my uncle's main squeeze? By the way I didn't catch your name."
"Katie."
Nick had unofficially worked in the family business since he was about nine. He's refilled napkin dispensers, swept the floor, and greeted customers. He progressed to busing tables, waiting tables, working the bakery, and doing everything to learn the business inside and out. Today at twenty years old he was the assistant manager which gave him authority to hire smart mouthed college brats like myself. Banjo's wasn't some petty cash fund for him like it was for me, Nick wanted to eventually take over the place when his uncle aka my fictional lover decided to retire.
Throughout the next four years countless people came and went, but I stuck around. The O'Shay family unofficially adopted me, one year when weather wouldn't let me make it back home for the holidays I actually spent it with them. At Banjo's I learned valuable skills you just can't get in college: bathroom vomit clean up, what to do with all the fabulous baked good that didn't sell at the end of the day (the O'Shay's donated to a local food pantry), and the most dangerous type of person out there was the dreaded caffeine junky. Forget weapons of mass destruction, these people will rip you to shreds with their bare hands if you fuck up their coffee.
A little game I played had to do with the infamous long lost Charlie; he was Nick's cousin, Uncle Tommy's son, and the rightful heir to the Banjo empire. Charlie much like big foot was often talked about yet there was very little actual evidence of him. It's true there were photos, but for all I knew they could have been the photo that came with the frame. The basic story I had gotten was that Charlie went away to school somewhere midwest on a hockey scholarship. Somewhere during his sophomore year he got so badly injured he was permanently benched. Instead of coming home, he decided to drop out of school and travel instead. He never came to visit, not even for the holidays. There were post cards sent to Nick that were enigmatic, a few lines of poetry maybe. Nick could never make sense of them.
One late night that Nick and I were stuck in the shop doing inventory; It was just the two of us and his IPOD shuffle to keep us company. Oldies mostly.
I slumped down on the floor behind the counter, "You are the oldest person I know."
He joined me on the floor, "I'm only a couple of years older than you."
"I mean your soul is old. If you were a tree and I cut you open you'd have a million rings on the inside."
"Is this the part of our friendship where I find out you're a serial killer?"
"Ah Nick there are still so many things you don't know about me. It's time I confess my plans to get plastic surgery to look just like you, knock you up, and take over your life."
"Knock me up? Did you mean knock me off?"
"I know what I said, you misheard me."
"Oh, so this is actually the part of our friendship where you sexually proposition me?"
My face turned ten shades of red. Please remember I'm a virgin here and to clarify even further I have never done anything with a guy below the waist. Never even seen a penis, well okay I have, but do movies count? Not porn, you perverts. It was an art film, or at least that's what I was told.
Best method of escape, abrupt subject change. "Tell me about Big Foot."
Nick ran his fingers through his crazy curly hair. He knew just who I meant. "Hmmmm, where to begin. He was born on a cold winter's night..."
I playfully hit him, "Don't go back quite that far, how about give me the highlite reel."
"He's really good looking or so I'm told by all his groupies. In school he never had to worry about finding a date, they were lining up to be with him. It didn't hurt that he was a super star at any sport although everyone knew hockey was his first love. Even though we're the same age we couldn't be more different. He was the exciting one, I was the boring one. Charlie was and is rebellious, there wasn't a rule he didn't break and that included getting involved in the family business."
"Yeah but his loss is our gain. You were born to run this place Nick. I knew from that first day we met when you make that excellent executive decision to hire me."
"Where do you see yourself ten years from now?"
"Oh geez, I thought I had secured the job four years ago. Is this part two of the interview?"
"No, just a friend asking."
"I don't know. I probably should have some kind of clue since I'm graduating in what, a month? I'm not even sure where I'm going to live."
"Come live with me."
"What?!"
"I have that big old house all by myself, could use the company." The big old house he was referring to was the house he grew up in. His parents had retired and moved south about a year ago, leaving their only child the house to take care of and maintain until they were ready to eventually sell it. It was a fifteen minute drive from the bakery. Thankfully another thing I had managed to gain over the past couple of years was a car.
I started to tease, "Gosh I don't know Nick, this is so sudden and we just met. What will people in town think of us two unwed kids co-habitating together?"
He stood up, brushed off his jeans, and extended a hand to help me up which I gladly accepted. "Don't make me beg?"
"I do like it when a man grovels, but I will accept on the terms that you make sure to put the toilet seat back down for the lady of the house."
"Lady of the house? I'm confused, I asked you to move in..." With that I grabbed a muffin off the shelf and pelted it at him.
Nick smirked that boyish mischievous grin of his, "It's like that? Two can play this game." He picked me up and flung me over his shoulder. I kicked and screamed like a little girl who had been kidnapped because I knew all too well what was coming. Like countless times before when we got into a friendly scuffle, Nick had one way he always settled things in his favor, dump a fully clothed Katie in the fountain out front. Tonight was different though because he came in with me.
After a giant fit of giggles I brushed my hair off my face, turned to Nick and said, "You've really become my best friend. You know that?"
"Well that's cause I'm your only friend." I splashed him, then he wrapped his giant arm around me, "I'm real glad you walked into the bakery that day Katie Keppler."
"Me too."
First and foremost I need to explain that I was never a casual sex kind of girl. There was never a time that I locked eyes with some cute guy across the room and then later on we ended up at his place on a first names, probably fakes names, only basis. No walk of shames, no "who was that guy from last night?", no emergency trips to Planned Parenthood in my lifetime. Something I actually don't share with two many people is that I didn't even lose my virginity until I was twenty-two years old. It's embarrassing. I wish I could chalk it up to me being super religious or an avid RPG player, but the truth was I was a girl with no game.
Now that we got all that out of the way....the real story began halfway through my freshman year at college. My parents had worked real hard to save up enough money to pay for my college, but if I wanted any petty cash then I needed to get a job. Here I was several hours away from home not knowing anyone, anywhere, or anything but my name. Hey there, I'm Katie Keppler. Nice alliteration, right?
There was this bakery/cafe about a five minute walk from campus called Banjo's. Needless to say this was a highly coveted place to work for us out-of-towner college folk, alternatives were the retail hell the mall offered which you needed a car to get to and most freshman didn't have cars or working an on campus job for about half the pay. My past work experience consisted of odd baby sitting jobs, so landing a spot at Banjo's was a long shot. What do they say "Aim for the moon and maybe you'll land on a star?" I was the kind of girl that was most likely to get plummeted with a stray asteroid in the process. Come to think of it I think that's what they voted me in High School.
Although I was still very unfamiliar with my new surroundings, I had heard Banjo's had an oversized bird bath/fountain in the front. The open house interview started 7 AM the Saturday after we had all arrived at school. They were looking to take on three new people. My heart sank when I showed up at 6:45 AM to an already overflowing line of fellow collegiates. Defeated I slumped into a table in the back contemplating if I should even try at this point. I grabbed a napkin and began doodling on it.
"Art major?"
I looked up to see this tall skinny guy with a head of dark brown curly hair. He was cute, but in a not so obvious way. I studied his flip flops, polo shirt, and board shorts. He must be sizing up his competition. Proudly I held up my napkin to display my stick figures, "Yeah, I'm actually on scholarship."
He sat down across from me, "Oh, then why do you need this job?"
"I don't, I'm actually the bosses mistress. He likes them young and dumb. Eighteen years old, actually I'm on the high end of the age range he prefers. I do it for the muffins."
He smirked, "I had no idea he was fooling around on the misses. Good leverage to use if I want to move up in this place."
My face turned red, "You work here?"
"Yeah, my Uncle Tommy owns the place. After what you told me, well it's going to be real awkward at Thanksgiving this year."
My parents had warned me my quick wit would get me in trouble one of these days and I guess today was the day. I immediately abandoned my napkin artwork and stood up to leave. "I am so sorry, I had no idea. See I'm a little socially retarded. Anyways good luck finding your three new people." Stop rambling you idiot.
He stood up and blocked my way out, "Two, we're hiring two new people."
"Oh the sign said three. I guess math and literacy aren't my strongest suits either. Thank God I've still got my art to fall back on."
"It did say three, but now we just need two more. I think you'd be great here, you're real funny. I'm Nick." He extended his hand to me.
"You're going to hire me?"
"Well how could we not hire my uncle's main squeeze? By the way I didn't catch your name."
"Katie."
Nick had unofficially worked in the family business since he was about nine. He's refilled napkin dispensers, swept the floor, and greeted customers. He progressed to busing tables, waiting tables, working the bakery, and doing everything to learn the business inside and out. Today at twenty years old he was the assistant manager which gave him authority to hire smart mouthed college brats like myself. Banjo's wasn't some petty cash fund for him like it was for me, Nick wanted to eventually take over the place when his uncle aka my fictional lover decided to retire.
Throughout the next four years countless people came and went, but I stuck around. The O'Shay family unofficially adopted me, one year when weather wouldn't let me make it back home for the holidays I actually spent it with them. At Banjo's I learned valuable skills you just can't get in college: bathroom vomit clean up, what to do with all the fabulous baked good that didn't sell at the end of the day (the O'Shay's donated to a local food pantry), and the most dangerous type of person out there was the dreaded caffeine junky. Forget weapons of mass destruction, these people will rip you to shreds with their bare hands if you fuck up their coffee.
A little game I played had to do with the infamous long lost Charlie; he was Nick's cousin, Uncle Tommy's son, and the rightful heir to the Banjo empire. Charlie much like big foot was often talked about yet there was very little actual evidence of him. It's true there were photos, but for all I knew they could have been the photo that came with the frame. The basic story I had gotten was that Charlie went away to school somewhere midwest on a hockey scholarship. Somewhere during his sophomore year he got so badly injured he was permanently benched. Instead of coming home, he decided to drop out of school and travel instead. He never came to visit, not even for the holidays. There were post cards sent to Nick that were enigmatic, a few lines of poetry maybe. Nick could never make sense of them.
One late night that Nick and I were stuck in the shop doing inventory; It was just the two of us and his IPOD shuffle to keep us company. Oldies mostly.
I slumped down on the floor behind the counter, "You are the oldest person I know."
He joined me on the floor, "I'm only a couple of years older than you."
"I mean your soul is old. If you were a tree and I cut you open you'd have a million rings on the inside."
"Is this the part of our friendship where I find out you're a serial killer?"
"Ah Nick there are still so many things you don't know about me. It's time I confess my plans to get plastic surgery to look just like you, knock you up, and take over your life."
"Knock me up? Did you mean knock me off?"
"I know what I said, you misheard me."
"Oh, so this is actually the part of our friendship where you sexually proposition me?"
My face turned ten shades of red. Please remember I'm a virgin here and to clarify even further I have never done anything with a guy below the waist. Never even seen a penis, well okay I have, but do movies count? Not porn, you perverts. It was an art film, or at least that's what I was told.
Best method of escape, abrupt subject change. "Tell me about Big Foot."
Nick ran his fingers through his crazy curly hair. He knew just who I meant. "Hmmmm, where to begin. He was born on a cold winter's night..."
I playfully hit him, "Don't go back quite that far, how about give me the highlite reel."
"He's really good looking or so I'm told by all his groupies. In school he never had to worry about finding a date, they were lining up to be with him. It didn't hurt that he was a super star at any sport although everyone knew hockey was his first love. Even though we're the same age we couldn't be more different. He was the exciting one, I was the boring one. Charlie was and is rebellious, there wasn't a rule he didn't break and that included getting involved in the family business."
"Yeah but his loss is our gain. You were born to run this place Nick. I knew from that first day we met when you make that excellent executive decision to hire me."
"Where do you see yourself ten years from now?"
"Oh geez, I thought I had secured the job four years ago. Is this part two of the interview?"
"No, just a friend asking."
"I don't know. I probably should have some kind of clue since I'm graduating in what, a month? I'm not even sure where I'm going to live."
"Come live with me."
"What?!"
"I have that big old house all by myself, could use the company." The big old house he was referring to was the house he grew up in. His parents had retired and moved south about a year ago, leaving their only child the house to take care of and maintain until they were ready to eventually sell it. It was a fifteen minute drive from the bakery. Thankfully another thing I had managed to gain over the past couple of years was a car.
I started to tease, "Gosh I don't know Nick, this is so sudden and we just met. What will people in town think of us two unwed kids co-habitating together?"
He stood up, brushed off his jeans, and extended a hand to help me up which I gladly accepted. "Don't make me beg?"
"I do like it when a man grovels, but I will accept on the terms that you make sure to put the toilet seat back down for the lady of the house."
"Lady of the house? I'm confused, I asked you to move in..." With that I grabbed a muffin off the shelf and pelted it at him.
Nick smirked that boyish mischievous grin of his, "It's like that? Two can play this game." He picked me up and flung me over his shoulder. I kicked and screamed like a little girl who had been kidnapped because I knew all too well what was coming. Like countless times before when we got into a friendly scuffle, Nick had one way he always settled things in his favor, dump a fully clothed Katie in the fountain out front. Tonight was different though because he came in with me.
After a giant fit of giggles I brushed my hair off my face, turned to Nick and said, "You've really become my best friend. You know that?"
"Well that's cause I'm your only friend." I splashed him, then he wrapped his giant arm around me, "I'm real glad you walked into the bakery that day Katie Keppler."
"Me too."
Good Things Come To Those Who Wait
***Caleb and Lila, Caleb’s point of view****
“Hey mom, how is she doing?”
Her voice was hushed on the other end, “She’s sleeping right now, but she had a rough morning. Saltine crackers and gingerale just don’t do the trick anymore.”
My heart broke, “I wish there was something I could do to take the pain away.”
“I know sweetheart and Lila knows it too. Do us both a favor and focus on work, I’m here if she needs anything.”
“Okay, when she wakes up will you tell her I called to check up and that I love her?”
“Of course. See you this afternoon. Good luck.”
Lila was on her eigth round of Clomid, each dose significantly increased from the previous one. In the beginning it was just stomach cramps that she pushed through, unfortunately now her reaction to the infertility meds had become so severe that she was home on bed rest. She had taken a leave of absence at work and was on short term disability. Because of the decrease in her income I had to pick up extra hours at work. The worst thing was that all I wanted to do was be by her side while she was going through all this, but I couldn’t or at least Lila wouldn’t let me. Thankfully my retired mother was able to help out by staying with Lila until I got home from work each day.
We had definitely had the conversation about what line we wouldn’t cross. It’s true Lila and I desperately wanted to be parents, but at what cost? If it were up to me she would have stopped the treatment when it rendered her so sick she could barely move. But Lila explained she was built "Ford Tough". We agreed we would stop at the one year mark and then discuss our other options.
Anxiously we waited for our ultrasound results in the exam room. Lila was squeezing my hand so hard her nails were digging into me. I didn’t care, it paled in comparison to what she was going through. Our eyes perked up when Dr. Moon came in. She assumed her usual position on a small stool across from us. This woman had the best poker face I have ever seen, no indication of what she was holding in that thick folder of hers.
She cleared her throat, “We’ve been on quite a journey, haven’t we?” Just shut up and give us the results already. “How have you been feeling Lila?”
“I’m good.” That was my trooper.
Dr. Moon continued, “This is interesting.”
Why was she dragging this on. Interesting was one of those obnoxious words that could be good, bad, both, or neither. Come to think of it in all our previous visits "interesting" had never been used. Maybe this really was a good thing.
Dr. Moon put down the folder and looked at both of us head on, “The Clomid worked. It worked very well actually. Did we previously discuss the possibility of multiples?”
Lila’s face lit up, “Twins? We’re having twins. Ohmygod. That’s wonderful!” She pulled me in for a huge hug. I was caught between pure joy and shock.
Dr. Moon shook her head, “No, not twins. The ultrasound showed triplets.”
This time I spoke up, “Are you sure?” Dr. Moon pulled out the slide and pointed to three heads.
On the car ride home our conversation was like a fast paced tennis match where questions just produced more questions. What are we going to do with three babies? Boys, girls, a combination? One big nursery? Should Lila be a stay at home mom? How was her tiny frame going to hold three babies? Do we register for triple the amount of supplies? Is breast feeding still an option? Should we upgrade the civic to some sort of SUV or minivan? What will we name them? Three babies?
That night we lay in bed together as I gently rubbed her belly. “Hello babies. This is Caleb, um I mean daddy. It’s so weird to think of myself as a daddy.”
“I know what you mean. I’m still kind of in disbelief that this is all happening. Should I start lifting weights in anticipation of carrying all three of them at once?”
We both laughed. “When do we tell people?”
“I think we should wait until we get passed the first trimester. Believe me I want to shout it from the roof tops, but there’s just so much that can go wrong this early on. In the meantime this is something special just for us.”
I kissed her on her forehead, her lips, then three small kisses on her tummy. “I like that.”
“Hey mom, how is she doing?”
Her voice was hushed on the other end, “She’s sleeping right now, but she had a rough morning. Saltine crackers and gingerale just don’t do the trick anymore.”
My heart broke, “I wish there was something I could do to take the pain away.”
“I know sweetheart and Lila knows it too. Do us both a favor and focus on work, I’m here if she needs anything.”
“Okay, when she wakes up will you tell her I called to check up and that I love her?”
“Of course. See you this afternoon. Good luck.”
Lila was on her eigth round of Clomid, each dose significantly increased from the previous one. In the beginning it was just stomach cramps that she pushed through, unfortunately now her reaction to the infertility meds had become so severe that she was home on bed rest. She had taken a leave of absence at work and was on short term disability. Because of the decrease in her income I had to pick up extra hours at work. The worst thing was that all I wanted to do was be by her side while she was going through all this, but I couldn’t or at least Lila wouldn’t let me. Thankfully my retired mother was able to help out by staying with Lila until I got home from work each day.
We had definitely had the conversation about what line we wouldn’t cross. It’s true Lila and I desperately wanted to be parents, but at what cost? If it were up to me she would have stopped the treatment when it rendered her so sick she could barely move. But Lila explained she was built "Ford Tough". We agreed we would stop at the one year mark and then discuss our other options.
Anxiously we waited for our ultrasound results in the exam room. Lila was squeezing my hand so hard her nails were digging into me. I didn’t care, it paled in comparison to what she was going through. Our eyes perked up when Dr. Moon came in. She assumed her usual position on a small stool across from us. This woman had the best poker face I have ever seen, no indication of what she was holding in that thick folder of hers.
She cleared her throat, “We’ve been on quite a journey, haven’t we?” Just shut up and give us the results already. “How have you been feeling Lila?”
“I’m good.” That was my trooper.
Dr. Moon continued, “This is interesting.”
Why was she dragging this on. Interesting was one of those obnoxious words that could be good, bad, both, or neither. Come to think of it in all our previous visits "interesting" had never been used. Maybe this really was a good thing.
Dr. Moon put down the folder and looked at both of us head on, “The Clomid worked. It worked very well actually. Did we previously discuss the possibility of multiples?”
Lila’s face lit up, “Twins? We’re having twins. Ohmygod. That’s wonderful!” She pulled me in for a huge hug. I was caught between pure joy and shock.
Dr. Moon shook her head, “No, not twins. The ultrasound showed triplets.”
This time I spoke up, “Are you sure?” Dr. Moon pulled out the slide and pointed to three heads.
On the car ride home our conversation was like a fast paced tennis match where questions just produced more questions. What are we going to do with three babies? Boys, girls, a combination? One big nursery? Should Lila be a stay at home mom? How was her tiny frame going to hold three babies? Do we register for triple the amount of supplies? Is breast feeding still an option? Should we upgrade the civic to some sort of SUV or minivan? What will we name them? Three babies?
That night we lay in bed together as I gently rubbed her belly. “Hello babies. This is Caleb, um I mean daddy. It’s so weird to think of myself as a daddy.”
“I know what you mean. I’m still kind of in disbelief that this is all happening. Should I start lifting weights in anticipation of carrying all three of them at once?”
We both laughed. “When do we tell people?”
“I think we should wait until we get passed the first trimester. Believe me I want to shout it from the roof tops, but there’s just so much that can go wrong this early on. In the meantime this is something special just for us.”
I kissed her on her forehead, her lips, then three small kisses on her tummy. “I like that.”
Cubicle Farmed
An introduction into the characters for a novel idea I'm playing with. It's a week in the life of five call center reps.
Jamal hates his job and he'll tell anyone about it, actually he tells everyone multiple times a day. What he really wants is to get his hip hop career going and get the hell out of there. There is one perk though, Jamal is the local stud. Call centers are notorious for the extremeley skewed 15 women to 1 man ratio. It's not smart to shit where you eat, but that doesn't matter to Jamal. At any given time he's hooking up with at least three different co-workers and when a new training class comes in he's on the look out for the latest talent.
Darcy is the born again Christian. She's found Jesus and it's her personal mission to make sure everyone else does too. Darcy lives in a PG bubble that deflects profanity, sexual innuendos, and negativity. It is the constant game of the office to see who can break her. Her most lovable traits are the freshly baked goods she provides on a regular basis and the holiday time overkill she brings to the office.
Layla the overachiever. She started about six months ago and is not quite sure why she isn't running the place yet. She works through lunches and breaks, comes in an hour early, stays late, and volunteers for every project management comes up with. Layla is an excellent rep, but eats/lives/breaths the job.
Kevin is the office clown. If a prank happened or is about to happen you better believe he'll be the one behind it. Work is a playground to him. The stat he is most interested in is how many people he can get to laugh ecah day. Sometimes the customers appreciate it, sometimes they don't and it gets him in trouble.
Victoria is a senior rep whose very good at what she does. The problem is she knows it and she has very little tolerance, patience, or understanding for the reps that aren't quite on her level. Actually she doesn't think anyone is on her level. Some would call her the office bully although not to her face. It doesn't help that Victoria looks like a Victoria Secret's Model either.
Jamal hates his job and he'll tell anyone about it, actually he tells everyone multiple times a day. What he really wants is to get his hip hop career going and get the hell out of there. There is one perk though, Jamal is the local stud. Call centers are notorious for the extremeley skewed 15 women to 1 man ratio. It's not smart to shit where you eat, but that doesn't matter to Jamal. At any given time he's hooking up with at least three different co-workers and when a new training class comes in he's on the look out for the latest talent.
Darcy is the born again Christian. She's found Jesus and it's her personal mission to make sure everyone else does too. Darcy lives in a PG bubble that deflects profanity, sexual innuendos, and negativity. It is the constant game of the office to see who can break her. Her most lovable traits are the freshly baked goods she provides on a regular basis and the holiday time overkill she brings to the office.
Layla the overachiever. She started about six months ago and is not quite sure why she isn't running the place yet. She works through lunches and breaks, comes in an hour early, stays late, and volunteers for every project management comes up with. Layla is an excellent rep, but eats/lives/breaths the job.
Kevin is the office clown. If a prank happened or is about to happen you better believe he'll be the one behind it. Work is a playground to him. The stat he is most interested in is how many people he can get to laugh ecah day. Sometimes the customers appreciate it, sometimes they don't and it gets him in trouble.
Victoria is a senior rep whose very good at what she does. The problem is she knows it and she has very little tolerance, patience, or understanding for the reps that aren't quite on her level. Actually she doesn't think anyone is on her level. Some would call her the office bully although not to her face. It doesn't help that Victoria looks like a Victoria Secret's Model either.
Aftermath
Disclaimer: This creative piece is rather dark. Proceed with caution and an open mind. Just a piece of writing and nothing more.
It was on her twentieth birthday that she decided to take her own life. She considered it her gift to the world that no longer loved her, sadly maybe the world never loved her to begin with. Two decades seemed like more than enough time to give things a fair shot.
People, countless people, would question her when she woke up. Some of them with pleading eyes would beg for answers she knew they weren't ready to hear. Others would come across as cold and clinical playing detective. What they all needed to understand but would all fail to was that there was no big mystery, no magic shows, no man behind the curtain. This was it. This is it.
There was no one event; rather her life had been a series of events leading up to THE EVENT. She tried so desperately to play by the rules others created for her even though they never made sense to her. The truth of it all is that there isn't a place in this world for everyone and she was smart enough to realize it sooner than most. It's okay, she accepted it and tried to move on. Why won't others accept it to?
Crooked fingers point at her while sharp tongues shout things like "coward" and "drama queen" and "phoney". They belong to the ignorant who will never understand the darkness she fell into. Good for them, she wouldn't wish her pain on anyone. It's so easy to judge a situation they know nothing about. It's easier to compartmentalize someone into something and shove it in a corner out of the way.
Silence behind her blackened eyes. Her breath slow and steady. White walls, white sheets, white people surround her yet all she can see is black. Who are these people? How can she identify others when she can't even begin to identify herself.
A survivor, but of what? It was her choice to leave yet her passport had been denied. Just because you have a heart beat doesn't mean you are alive. You cannot will life into the unwilling.
It was on her twentieth birthday that she decided to take her own life. She considered it her gift to the world that no longer loved her, sadly maybe the world never loved her to begin with. Two decades seemed like more than enough time to give things a fair shot.
People, countless people, would question her when she woke up. Some of them with pleading eyes would beg for answers she knew they weren't ready to hear. Others would come across as cold and clinical playing detective. What they all needed to understand but would all fail to was that there was no big mystery, no magic shows, no man behind the curtain. This was it. This is it.
There was no one event; rather her life had been a series of events leading up to THE EVENT. She tried so desperately to play by the rules others created for her even though they never made sense to her. The truth of it all is that there isn't a place in this world for everyone and she was smart enough to realize it sooner than most. It's okay, she accepted it and tried to move on. Why won't others accept it to?
Crooked fingers point at her while sharp tongues shout things like "coward" and "drama queen" and "phoney". They belong to the ignorant who will never understand the darkness she fell into. Good for them, she wouldn't wish her pain on anyone. It's so easy to judge a situation they know nothing about. It's easier to compartmentalize someone into something and shove it in a corner out of the way.
Silence behind her blackened eyes. Her breath slow and steady. White walls, white sheets, white people surround her yet all she can see is black. Who are these people? How can she identify others when she can't even begin to identify herself.
A survivor, but of what? It was her choice to leave yet her passport had been denied. Just because you have a heart beat doesn't mean you are alive. You cannot will life into the unwilling.
Puzzle Pieces
Fairly recently I decided to slowly dip my feet back into the dating pool. I am trying to avoid my usual belly flop technique. At present time I am NOT looking for a full fledged relationship or boyfriend, I want to take things slow and see what's out there. Ideally it would be nice to form a solid friendship with a guy first and then see if it develops into something more. I'm definitely not in the all or nothing mentality, if I meet someone nice but there are no sparks then I would love to have them as a friend.
Anyone who knows me or has read some of my blogs understands how badly hurt I have been in the past by my poor decision making skills when it comes to romance. It's not fair to place 100% of the blame on the guys because at the end of the day I went into these relationships completely willingly. I chose these men. No one forced me to date them or stay with them.
A mistake is only a mistake if you don't learn something from it. Each relationship not only helped me understand better what I want and don't want in a partner, it also helped me better understand myself.
*No cars, no deal. I have dated a handful of men without cars. This meant me and my car did all the driving. Not only was this expensive especially since they never offered to chip in for gas, it was also a major inconvenience. Sometimes plans couldn't happen because they couldn't get a ride or the bus schedule was out of wack. Add this to the fact that I have a sleep disorder that limits how long I can drive or my ability to drive at night. I'll be friends with someone without a car, but I won't date them.
*This leads perfectly to point #2. No job, no deal. You don't have to make six figures, but you should be able to financially support yourself. Once again I dated a handful of men who had fallen on hard times. Not surprisingly a lot of these men have the no car issue as well. So anything we ever did was on my dime: any date, any eating out, any fun activity. And staying in for a mellow and more cost effective evening was almost never something they were interested in. I have no problem paying for myself or treating another person but I am not going to fund an entire relationship nor would I expect the other person to.
*I love children, everyone knows this, but I recently discovered I don't want to date a man who already has them. Once again this is based on experience. The men I dated who had children all had baby mama drama. Additionally I don't know what my role or place would be in that child's life. I have so much respect for single parents, but I just don't feel I can go down that road again. And this may be selfish but a big dream of mine is to have my own kids some day and a man who already has kids may be less likely to want more.
*Attraction is an important factor. I was in two relationships with men that weren't attracted to me. This meant they weren't interested in physical affection such as cuddling or kissing and definitely didn't want to have sex with me. It also meant that their eyes as well as other body parts wandered. I in turn have dated a couple of guys I wasn't completely attracted to, but I went for it because they had amazing personalities. I think this is something that separates a friend from a lover, mutual attraction. Because I wasn't attracted to them there was no passion, no desire, no spark. Who wants a relationship without spark?
*We all have pasts and sometimes they include things we are less than proud of. I am obviously no exception to this, however in being more than understanding about certain men and their pasts I have gotten very badly burned when they ended up repeating their pasts with me. For this reason I will never again date someone who has a criminal record, a recovering drug addiction, or a series of infidelities with previous relationships. I don't care how long ago it was, it's just too high a risk and too stressful.
*Open minded. To call myself liberal would be a gross understatement. People who are discriminatory against certain religions, ethnicities, life style choices, genders....need not apply. I am a humanitarian and have no place in my world for bigotry. Living over three years in the bible belt taught me just how hurtful close minded people can be with their words and actions.
*Family oriented. I consider my parents my best friends and I consider my best friends my family. It's so important to me that the guy I'm with not only get along with my people, but that I get along with his. I want someone who has a good relationship with his parents and a solid group of friends. I can understand someone lacking in one department, but both raises a giant red flag.
*Maturity. I'm thirty years old, not twenty. Someone who has goals, aspirations, and direction in their life would be ideal. A guy who still insists on drinking until he gets shit faced on a regular basis, blowing all his money on fancy toys like big screen TVs without having money to pay his bills, working a minimum wage job with no motivation to climb up the ladder...we all have to pick a time and place to be grown ups. I can have fun, but there's also a time to step up to your responsibilities. This includes knowing how to make the bed, do your own laundry, and cook some basic meals. If your mommy still does all these things for you, well that's just sad. If you still live with your parents that's even worse.
*Sports obsessions. There are TV shows I absolutely adore, but my life doesn't stop for them. I won't blow off people, events, and obligations because my TV show is having a 90 minute special. I think it's great to have a passion, all passions need some sort of realistic limitation. If you're having a hard time deciding between your grandma's 90th birthday party and a baseball game, then there's something wrong.
*Religion. I was raised Jewish, dabbled in Christianity, and Paganism found me when I was nineteen. The likelihood of me finding a man with the same exact beliefs as me is not very high, but I want someone who believes in something. I also want someone who may not necessarily agree with my beliefs yet they will be respectful to them. Once I dated a man who said, "All religions are bullshit and you're a fuckin idiot for believing in one!" Faith is a beautiful thing and I know prayer has helped me through some of the darkest times in my life. It would be nice to share with someone the basic thought that some higher power is loving and taking care of us.
Settling is no longer an option for me. I've spent almost my entire dating life settling because I honestly believed I didn't deserve or couldn't get what I really wanted. No more. I know who I am, what I have to offer, and what I want. I'm college educated, beautiful, voluptuous, come from a great family, am on a career path, have my own place, compassionate, great sense of humor, and I treat my man like a king. All I'm asking is for the same in return. I know I am worth it.
Anyone who knows me or has read some of my blogs understands how badly hurt I have been in the past by my poor decision making skills when it comes to romance. It's not fair to place 100% of the blame on the guys because at the end of the day I went into these relationships completely willingly. I chose these men. No one forced me to date them or stay with them.
A mistake is only a mistake if you don't learn something from it. Each relationship not only helped me understand better what I want and don't want in a partner, it also helped me better understand myself.
*No cars, no deal. I have dated a handful of men without cars. This meant me and my car did all the driving. Not only was this expensive especially since they never offered to chip in for gas, it was also a major inconvenience. Sometimes plans couldn't happen because they couldn't get a ride or the bus schedule was out of wack. Add this to the fact that I have a sleep disorder that limits how long I can drive or my ability to drive at night. I'll be friends with someone without a car, but I won't date them.
*This leads perfectly to point #2. No job, no deal. You don't have to make six figures, but you should be able to financially support yourself. Once again I dated a handful of men who had fallen on hard times. Not surprisingly a lot of these men have the no car issue as well. So anything we ever did was on my dime: any date, any eating out, any fun activity. And staying in for a mellow and more cost effective evening was almost never something they were interested in. I have no problem paying for myself or treating another person but I am not going to fund an entire relationship nor would I expect the other person to.
*I love children, everyone knows this, but I recently discovered I don't want to date a man who already has them. Once again this is based on experience. The men I dated who had children all had baby mama drama. Additionally I don't know what my role or place would be in that child's life. I have so much respect for single parents, but I just don't feel I can go down that road again. And this may be selfish but a big dream of mine is to have my own kids some day and a man who already has kids may be less likely to want more.
*Attraction is an important factor. I was in two relationships with men that weren't attracted to me. This meant they weren't interested in physical affection such as cuddling or kissing and definitely didn't want to have sex with me. It also meant that their eyes as well as other body parts wandered. I in turn have dated a couple of guys I wasn't completely attracted to, but I went for it because they had amazing personalities. I think this is something that separates a friend from a lover, mutual attraction. Because I wasn't attracted to them there was no passion, no desire, no spark. Who wants a relationship without spark?
*We all have pasts and sometimes they include things we are less than proud of. I am obviously no exception to this, however in being more than understanding about certain men and their pasts I have gotten very badly burned when they ended up repeating their pasts with me. For this reason I will never again date someone who has a criminal record, a recovering drug addiction, or a series of infidelities with previous relationships. I don't care how long ago it was, it's just too high a risk and too stressful.
*Open minded. To call myself liberal would be a gross understatement. People who are discriminatory against certain religions, ethnicities, life style choices, genders....need not apply. I am a humanitarian and have no place in my world for bigotry. Living over three years in the bible belt taught me just how hurtful close minded people can be with their words and actions.
*Family oriented. I consider my parents my best friends and I consider my best friends my family. It's so important to me that the guy I'm with not only get along with my people, but that I get along with his. I want someone who has a good relationship with his parents and a solid group of friends. I can understand someone lacking in one department, but both raises a giant red flag.
*Maturity. I'm thirty years old, not twenty. Someone who has goals, aspirations, and direction in their life would be ideal. A guy who still insists on drinking until he gets shit faced on a regular basis, blowing all his money on fancy toys like big screen TVs without having money to pay his bills, working a minimum wage job with no motivation to climb up the ladder...we all have to pick a time and place to be grown ups. I can have fun, but there's also a time to step up to your responsibilities. This includes knowing how to make the bed, do your own laundry, and cook some basic meals. If your mommy still does all these things for you, well that's just sad. If you still live with your parents that's even worse.
*Sports obsessions. There are TV shows I absolutely adore, but my life doesn't stop for them. I won't blow off people, events, and obligations because my TV show is having a 90 minute special. I think it's great to have a passion, all passions need some sort of realistic limitation. If you're having a hard time deciding between your grandma's 90th birthday party and a baseball game, then there's something wrong.
*Religion. I was raised Jewish, dabbled in Christianity, and Paganism found me when I was nineteen. The likelihood of me finding a man with the same exact beliefs as me is not very high, but I want someone who believes in something. I also want someone who may not necessarily agree with my beliefs yet they will be respectful to them. Once I dated a man who said, "All religions are bullshit and you're a fuckin idiot for believing in one!" Faith is a beautiful thing and I know prayer has helped me through some of the darkest times in my life. It would be nice to share with someone the basic thought that some higher power is loving and taking care of us.
Settling is no longer an option for me. I've spent almost my entire dating life settling because I honestly believed I didn't deserve or couldn't get what I really wanted. No more. I know who I am, what I have to offer, and what I want. I'm college educated, beautiful, voluptuous, come from a great family, am on a career path, have my own place, compassionate, great sense of humor, and I treat my man like a king. All I'm asking is for the same in return. I know I am worth it.
Barren
***From Caleb's perspective****
Dr. Moon walked into the medical examination room glaring at the file she held in her hands. A small Chinese woman who held so much power at this particular moment. She sat down in a chair across from Lila and me, pushed her glasses up her nose, and made direct eye contact with Lila.
"The problem is that you're not ovulating. If you don't ovulate then you can't get pregnant." She gaged our reactions then continued, "You are otherwise a young and healthy woman and I feel confident with the right treatment we can get you pregnant."
I squeezed Lila's hand for encouragement. We had been trying for seven months to start our family, literally started on our wedding night. I was real anxious for us to start that next phase together. If you could see the way she was with the nieces and nephews, I knew motherhood was something she was born to do. Everytime we came across a baby section in a store we just had to browse through and we have even discussed potential names. To say we had baby fever would be a gross understatement, it was more like we had the plague.
This news was devastating....
Dr. Moon continued, "Thankfully Caleb all of your tests came back fine, so we're only dealing with one infertility issue here. I would recommend contacting your insurance company to find out the extent of your infertility benefits in case we need to delve deeper than mere medications."
Infertility is officially the ugliest word I have ever heard. each time it was used I saw Lila squirm like someone had punched her in the stomach. We left the office hand in hand neither of us saying anything. About halfway through the car ride home Lila whispered, "I'm defective."
I pulled the car over. My hand graced the side of her face. "Don't ever talk the way about the woman I love."
She began to cry. "You give me everything and I can't give you this one thing, the one thing you want more than anything."
"I already have the one thing I want more than anything and that's you. We have options, we have time. I love you and nothing is ever going to change that."
A small smile crept on her face, "I love you too."
My heart was broken but I didn't want to let her know that. I was worried that we may not be able to have kids. The fact that I was worrying made me feel like a complete ass. This was happening to her body and I had no control over it. My biggest pride was that I had the skills to fix or build anything with my hands, yet this was beyond my expertise. I wanted to hold her so tightly in my arms, tell her I loved her, and promise everything would be alright. Would they be empty promises? A part of me wishes that I was the infertile one, put the burden on me.
A few hours later my sadness had turned to anger. There were families boasting about having their 20th baby and teens on MTV getting knocked up, yet two people in love and married couldn't make it happen. Why was this? How much I wished I could make passionate love to Lila and in that passion create something bigger than the two of us. What had she ever done to deserve this? Now she would have to go through god knows what treatments and tests with all kinds of side effects. It wasn't inpatience that got me, I could wait however long it took if I knew a baby would come from it all. It was the unknown, the chance that it may never happen for us no matter how hard we tried.
I didn't sleep that night, instead I watched her sleep. I ran my fingers through her soft curly hair. I kissed her eyelids. I breathed in her scent. At the end of the day I had her and that made me happier than anything. I only hoped if she could be happy just with me.
Dr. Moon walked into the medical examination room glaring at the file she held in her hands. A small Chinese woman who held so much power at this particular moment. She sat down in a chair across from Lila and me, pushed her glasses up her nose, and made direct eye contact with Lila.
"The problem is that you're not ovulating. If you don't ovulate then you can't get pregnant." She gaged our reactions then continued, "You are otherwise a young and healthy woman and I feel confident with the right treatment we can get you pregnant."
I squeezed Lila's hand for encouragement. We had been trying for seven months to start our family, literally started on our wedding night. I was real anxious for us to start that next phase together. If you could see the way she was with the nieces and nephews, I knew motherhood was something she was born to do. Everytime we came across a baby section in a store we just had to browse through and we have even discussed potential names. To say we had baby fever would be a gross understatement, it was more like we had the plague.
This news was devastating....
Dr. Moon continued, "Thankfully Caleb all of your tests came back fine, so we're only dealing with one infertility issue here. I would recommend contacting your insurance company to find out the extent of your infertility benefits in case we need to delve deeper than mere medications."
Infertility is officially the ugliest word I have ever heard. each time it was used I saw Lila squirm like someone had punched her in the stomach. We left the office hand in hand neither of us saying anything. About halfway through the car ride home Lila whispered, "I'm defective."
I pulled the car over. My hand graced the side of her face. "Don't ever talk the way about the woman I love."
She began to cry. "You give me everything and I can't give you this one thing, the one thing you want more than anything."
"I already have the one thing I want more than anything and that's you. We have options, we have time. I love you and nothing is ever going to change that."
A small smile crept on her face, "I love you too."
My heart was broken but I didn't want to let her know that. I was worried that we may not be able to have kids. The fact that I was worrying made me feel like a complete ass. This was happening to her body and I had no control over it. My biggest pride was that I had the skills to fix or build anything with my hands, yet this was beyond my expertise. I wanted to hold her so tightly in my arms, tell her I loved her, and promise everything would be alright. Would they be empty promises? A part of me wishes that I was the infertile one, put the burden on me.
A few hours later my sadness had turned to anger. There were families boasting about having their 20th baby and teens on MTV getting knocked up, yet two people in love and married couldn't make it happen. Why was this? How much I wished I could make passionate love to Lila and in that passion create something bigger than the two of us. What had she ever done to deserve this? Now she would have to go through god knows what treatments and tests with all kinds of side effects. It wasn't inpatience that got me, I could wait however long it took if I knew a baby would come from it all. It was the unknown, the chance that it may never happen for us no matter how hard we tried.
I didn't sleep that night, instead I watched her sleep. I ran my fingers through her soft curly hair. I kissed her eyelids. I breathed in her scent. At the end of the day I had her and that made me happier than anything. I only hoped if she could be happy just with me.
Worry Warts are never attractive
****From Lila's perspective****
Am I allowed to feel happy? A couple of weeks ago Caleb swept me off my feet in the most incredible proposal. I am so in love with him yet so conflicted over everything that is about to happen. The problem is that I have been down this road before. I had the engagement party, gift registries, bridal shower, bachelorette party, fairytale wedding....but this is all new for Caleb. So I feel like I don't deserve a second round of all this yet Caleb shouldn't be cheated from his experiences. Is there even a feasible compromise?
You're probably thinking "What's the big deal? He's a dude and dudes don't give a crap about weddings." That would be true, but Caleb isn't like most guys. Of course I end up with the rare male that does care about it all. He comes from a large and tight-knit family that are all about the huge celebrations; there is no such thing as low-key with them. Let me give an example: a random Sunday night dinner that is not for anyone's birthday, job promotion, baby announcement, any type of celebratory event...still includes five course meals, wine toasts, and some decadent dessert. A backyard bbq wedding just wasn't in the cards.
Then there was the matter of finances. My parents had already thrown me a big production and neither they nor I were in a position to forego those expenses again. Caleb was the youngest of three kids, was it fair to ask them to do it all? This should be a time for me to be glowing yet all I could do was stress.
He wrapped his arms tightly around me as we browsed the furniture store scoping out potential master bedroom sets. It didn't matter how beautiful the set was, my response was always lackluster. Caleb lifted my chin up and looked deeply into my eyes, "What's going on?"
The ramble monster came out full force. He didn't interupt once, this can be an dangerous thing to do with the ramble monster. When I was finished Caleb took my hand and led me to a bed where we both sat down. Now it was his turn. "Do you know what I want on our wedding day? Just you. Anything else is a bonus. That day should be about you and me, not all of that other fluff. We don't need registries because between the two of us we're pretty established with things. If you don't want a bridal shower no one is going to force you to have one, but if some women who care about you want to do something nice for you then that's all it is, people who care about you doing something nice. That's allowed right?" He kissed my forehead.
"What about your family?"
"Lila, I'm disapointed in you, you're usually so good about thinking outside the box. Why not have the wedding under a tent in my parents backyard? As far as food, when have you know my family to need an excuse to cook? You know my good friend Perry is a professional photographer, Reed probably knows a good DJ, and you could wear jeans and a t-shirt for all I care. You look beautiful in anything."
I sighed. He was truly the yin to my yang. "Sounds good."
Caleb looked around, "Now can we found a nice bed I can have my way with you in?"
Am I allowed to feel happy? A couple of weeks ago Caleb swept me off my feet in the most incredible proposal. I am so in love with him yet so conflicted over everything that is about to happen. The problem is that I have been down this road before. I had the engagement party, gift registries, bridal shower, bachelorette party, fairytale wedding....but this is all new for Caleb. So I feel like I don't deserve a second round of all this yet Caleb shouldn't be cheated from his experiences. Is there even a feasible compromise?
You're probably thinking "What's the big deal? He's a dude and dudes don't give a crap about weddings." That would be true, but Caleb isn't like most guys. Of course I end up with the rare male that does care about it all. He comes from a large and tight-knit family that are all about the huge celebrations; there is no such thing as low-key with them. Let me give an example: a random Sunday night dinner that is not for anyone's birthday, job promotion, baby announcement, any type of celebratory event...still includes five course meals, wine toasts, and some decadent dessert. A backyard bbq wedding just wasn't in the cards.
Then there was the matter of finances. My parents had already thrown me a big production and neither they nor I were in a position to forego those expenses again. Caleb was the youngest of three kids, was it fair to ask them to do it all? This should be a time for me to be glowing yet all I could do was stress.
He wrapped his arms tightly around me as we browsed the furniture store scoping out potential master bedroom sets. It didn't matter how beautiful the set was, my response was always lackluster. Caleb lifted my chin up and looked deeply into my eyes, "What's going on?"
The ramble monster came out full force. He didn't interupt once, this can be an dangerous thing to do with the ramble monster. When I was finished Caleb took my hand and led me to a bed where we both sat down. Now it was his turn. "Do you know what I want on our wedding day? Just you. Anything else is a bonus. That day should be about you and me, not all of that other fluff. We don't need registries because between the two of us we're pretty established with things. If you don't want a bridal shower no one is going to force you to have one, but if some women who care about you want to do something nice for you then that's all it is, people who care about you doing something nice. That's allowed right?" He kissed my forehead.
"What about your family?"
"Lila, I'm disapointed in you, you're usually so good about thinking outside the box. Why not have the wedding under a tent in my parents backyard? As far as food, when have you know my family to need an excuse to cook? You know my good friend Perry is a professional photographer, Reed probably knows a good DJ, and you could wear jeans and a t-shirt for all I care. You look beautiful in anything."
I sighed. He was truly the yin to my yang. "Sounds good."
Caleb looked around, "Now can we found a nice bed I can have my way with you in?"
The Little Things
Continuation of Caleb and Lila's story
It's true what first caught my attention was her beauty. Lila has these amazingly deep brown eyes you could get lost in. I never got onto the bandwagon of blue eyes are the greatest like everyone else, dark eyes always did me in. Second was her smile which lit up her entire face, as I previously mentioned her smile reminded me of my mothers and that's definitely a good thing. Of course I noticed her sexy, voluptuous body. Why women think men only want stick skinny super models is a concept I never understood. A real woman has thighs, ass, breasts, and various padding throughout her body. Someone you can grab onto and snuggle with without worrying about getting jabbed by protruding bones.
We were friends for about four months before we started dating. I never thought before that romance could be born out of friendship for two reasons: All the friends I had were strictly friends and most of them have been my friends since early childhood. Secondly every couple I know basically dove right into dating. You have to remember I have very little experience in matters of the heart myself. Sarah and I went from zero to sixty in a matter of minutes. There is something to be said for getting to know someone BEFORE you date them.
It was the little things that helped me let my guard down and fall in love with her. When she goes shopping she always puts the cart back no matter what, she would rather chew on a stale piece of gum for an hour while looking for a trash can than spit it out on the ground, she says please/thank you/your welcome at every apprpriate time, she can hold her own with my loud and rambunctious friends, easily the most physically affectionate person I have ever met, and her ability to laugh at herself while in the ER with IV tubes running out of her. What I think got to me the most was when she finally opened up to me about some dark parts of her past, she didn't sound defeated but rather seemed introspective and hopeful.
Easter was what sealed the deal for me. My older sister is always in charge of organizing the egg hunt for the kids, but unfortunately she came down with a late season flu. Without even being asked Lila stepped up to the plate. Not only was she up all night at my parents house decorating dozens of eggs, she also put a twist on the event making it a scavenger hunt instead. My mom found her passed out in the garden around one in the morning. I scooped her up in my arms and drove her home. This was something she had done for me, for my family and at that moment I knew this was it.
For the first time in our entire friendship/relationship I lied to Lila. I told her I was taking a bussiness trip for a few days when I was really driving down to visit her parents. This would be my third interaction with her family, yet another reason things felt so right to me. I strongly believe that a person's character can be traced back to their upbringing. Lila's parents are two of the kindest, most intelligent, and warm hearted people I have ever met in my life. Call me old fashioned, but some things just need to be done face to face and asking for their blessing was definitely one of those things. I think both of them cried; don't tell anyone I told you.
Two Months Later. Lila squeezed my hand on the car ride, "We haven't been bowling a while."
I kept having to remind myself to remain calm, cool, collected. As far as I knew she had no idea what was going on. This was the same bowling alley we had met at nearly a year ago. As per usual I insisted on opening her door for her, then I grabbed an old bowling bag from the back seat.
Lila looked at her watch, "Is the bowling alley open this early?"
Right on cue I responded panicked, "Oh god, let me check. I'll be right back." Then I ran in. I was counting on Lila's inpatience, after about five minutes of waiting in the parking lot by herself she would come in to see what was going on. And she did.
The look on her face when she walked into the completely empty bowling alley was one I will never forget. She followed a trail of rose petals to lane 11, the same lane we bowled in the day we met. I stayed hidden behind the counter watching her as she spotted the old bowling bag with the note attached "Open me". Lila slowly unzipped the bag, pulled out the box, and stood still. I approached her just as the overhead screen lit up "Do you bowl?" She giggled.
Deep breath Caleb, you can do this. I dropped down to one knee in front of her and took her small hands into my much larger ones. "When we first met I was so nervous I couldn't look you in the face, now I can't take my eyes off of you. On that day I asked you a silly question, today I want to ask you something more serious. Lila you have become my best friend. I feel I can tell you anything and because of you I believe in love again."
Lila interupted, "Yes!"
I laughed, "I haven't finsihed yet, but you definitely helped take some of the pressure off. So...thanks. Your touch, your smile, the way you are with my family and friends, there are so many things about you I admire. I feel like we fit each other and we get eachother. Let's grow old together. Will you marry me?"
"Yes!" With that I swept her up in my arms and kissed her. When I put her down she looked up at me and asked, "Were we still going to bowl?"
It's true what first caught my attention was her beauty. Lila has these amazingly deep brown eyes you could get lost in. I never got onto the bandwagon of blue eyes are the greatest like everyone else, dark eyes always did me in. Second was her smile which lit up her entire face, as I previously mentioned her smile reminded me of my mothers and that's definitely a good thing. Of course I noticed her sexy, voluptuous body. Why women think men only want stick skinny super models is a concept I never understood. A real woman has thighs, ass, breasts, and various padding throughout her body. Someone you can grab onto and snuggle with without worrying about getting jabbed by protruding bones.
We were friends for about four months before we started dating. I never thought before that romance could be born out of friendship for two reasons: All the friends I had were strictly friends and most of them have been my friends since early childhood. Secondly every couple I know basically dove right into dating. You have to remember I have very little experience in matters of the heart myself. Sarah and I went from zero to sixty in a matter of minutes. There is something to be said for getting to know someone BEFORE you date them.
It was the little things that helped me let my guard down and fall in love with her. When she goes shopping she always puts the cart back no matter what, she would rather chew on a stale piece of gum for an hour while looking for a trash can than spit it out on the ground, she says please/thank you/your welcome at every apprpriate time, she can hold her own with my loud and rambunctious friends, easily the most physically affectionate person I have ever met, and her ability to laugh at herself while in the ER with IV tubes running out of her. What I think got to me the most was when she finally opened up to me about some dark parts of her past, she didn't sound defeated but rather seemed introspective and hopeful.
Easter was what sealed the deal for me. My older sister is always in charge of organizing the egg hunt for the kids, but unfortunately she came down with a late season flu. Without even being asked Lila stepped up to the plate. Not only was she up all night at my parents house decorating dozens of eggs, she also put a twist on the event making it a scavenger hunt instead. My mom found her passed out in the garden around one in the morning. I scooped her up in my arms and drove her home. This was something she had done for me, for my family and at that moment I knew this was it.
For the first time in our entire friendship/relationship I lied to Lila. I told her I was taking a bussiness trip for a few days when I was really driving down to visit her parents. This would be my third interaction with her family, yet another reason things felt so right to me. I strongly believe that a person's character can be traced back to their upbringing. Lila's parents are two of the kindest, most intelligent, and warm hearted people I have ever met in my life. Call me old fashioned, but some things just need to be done face to face and asking for their blessing was definitely one of those things. I think both of them cried; don't tell anyone I told you.
Two Months Later. Lila squeezed my hand on the car ride, "We haven't been bowling a while."
I kept having to remind myself to remain calm, cool, collected. As far as I knew she had no idea what was going on. This was the same bowling alley we had met at nearly a year ago. As per usual I insisted on opening her door for her, then I grabbed an old bowling bag from the back seat.
Lila looked at her watch, "Is the bowling alley open this early?"
Right on cue I responded panicked, "Oh god, let me check. I'll be right back." Then I ran in. I was counting on Lila's inpatience, after about five minutes of waiting in the parking lot by herself she would come in to see what was going on. And she did.
The look on her face when she walked into the completely empty bowling alley was one I will never forget. She followed a trail of rose petals to lane 11, the same lane we bowled in the day we met. I stayed hidden behind the counter watching her as she spotted the old bowling bag with the note attached "Open me". Lila slowly unzipped the bag, pulled out the box, and stood still. I approached her just as the overhead screen lit up "Do you bowl?" She giggled.
Deep breath Caleb, you can do this. I dropped down to one knee in front of her and took her small hands into my much larger ones. "When we first met I was so nervous I couldn't look you in the face, now I can't take my eyes off of you. On that day I asked you a silly question, today I want to ask you something more serious. Lila you have become my best friend. I feel I can tell you anything and because of you I believe in love again."
Lila interupted, "Yes!"
I laughed, "I haven't finsihed yet, but you definitely helped take some of the pressure off. So...thanks. Your touch, your smile, the way you are with my family and friends, there are so many things about you I admire. I feel like we fit each other and we get eachother. Let's grow old together. Will you marry me?"
"Yes!" With that I swept her up in my arms and kissed her. When I put her down she looked up at me and asked, "Were we still going to bowl?"
Raw
His cold green eyes pierced right through her as his venomous words shouted, "Well now you can go out and fuck whoever you want you selfish slut."
It was as if it had just happened, but it had been months since Jake left her life. It's not fair to call them nightmares because they happened during the day too. The ugly memories stung like a fresh slap right across her face. And it was hard to know just what would trigger them: a customer calling in with the same first name, a commercial advertising the TV show they used to watch together, cleaning out drawers and finding a random sock he left behind. Maybe he was physically gone, but his essence was everywhere.
The best way to describe Jake, con-artist. She was not his first victim and definitely wouldn't be his last. He knew how to find a mark, reel her in, then go in for the kill. It all started because she met him at a point of extreme vulnerability; her six year relationship had just ended and She honestly believed she could never love or trust again. Not really that uncommon a story, is it? Low on both cash and self esteem she posted an ad on craigslist looking to make some new friends. Although she received several responses, it was Jake's that intrigued her the most. He too had just gotten out of a six year relationship and he too was scared to trust again. Did men really admit these things? None that she personally knew.
The first night they had sex she opened up to him emotionally too. She told him how good it felt to be in a man's arms again, a man who desired her. He held her tight and told her that he never wanted to let her go. He opened up that he feared she would judge him because of his circumstances: a recovering alcoholic living at a halfway house. She explained she was in no position to judge and admired his honesty with her. This was the highest point of the relationship and she had no clue what a beast this seemingly gentle man really was.
Over the course of the next six months she rode the roller coaster of his moods swings. If he was in a good mood he was loving, affectionate, and sweet. When he had his bad days which were far more regular than his good days he became verbally abusive, cold, and manipulative. Somehow every argument they had was her fault, somehow she was always the one begging for his forgiveness. One time during sex he laughed at her and told her she needed to shave her pits. She cried and he told her she was being too sensitive.
He wouldn't call when he said he would. He wouldn't text when he said he would. Sometimes he canceled plans at the last minute. The day she first told him she loved him he shrugged and said, "That's nice." And he constantly sexually rejected her showing more interest in what was on TV than what was lying right in front of him. Not once had her called her beautiful or sexy, words he often used to describe material things such as his motorcycle or a big screen TV he saw at Bestbuy. She remained patient and understanding; this really came from a sense of desperation to hold onto him because she believed he was the only one who would have her.
After three months of dating he pressured her into moving in together. He explained how his insurance had run out, they were kicking him out of the halfway house, and he had nowhere to go. Of course she took him in. Two weeks later he didn't come home. When she tried calling him it went straight to voicemail. It was when she called his mother worried about what had happened to him that she found out the full truth: he was NOT a recovering alcoholic, he was a crack addict who had been battling the addiction for 10 years.
The next morning Jake had sobered up enough to call her and beg for her forgiveness. Jake was the master con-artist. He dropped the L-bomb and she was completely lost in his world again...until the night of her 31st birthday one month later. No cake, no cards, no present, and no Jake. He was off getting high while she spent all day sobbing over her stupidity. Jake didn't love her, he didn't even like her. The only thing he loved were his drugs.
There's a saying, "A woman is like tea, you don't know how strong she is until she's in hot water." She called a 24/7 locksmith and had the locks to their apartment changed. Then she made two trips down to his job where she dropped off all his things packaged in giant garbage bags. Lastly she texted him what she had done, right after called the cell phone company to have his number blocked. That night she allowed her self one last good cry and the next morning called a therapist.
It's going to be a long hard road to get to where she needs to go, but she needs to be brave enough to take that first step. It's been six months since she last heard or saw from Jake yet that doesn't stop those thoughts: is he okay or more importantly is she okay? She's okay right now, but that could change tomorrow. Time heals all wounds, even ones as deep as these.
It was as if it had just happened, but it had been months since Jake left her life. It's not fair to call them nightmares because they happened during the day too. The ugly memories stung like a fresh slap right across her face. And it was hard to know just what would trigger them: a customer calling in with the same first name, a commercial advertising the TV show they used to watch together, cleaning out drawers and finding a random sock he left behind. Maybe he was physically gone, but his essence was everywhere.
The best way to describe Jake, con-artist. She was not his first victim and definitely wouldn't be his last. He knew how to find a mark, reel her in, then go in for the kill. It all started because she met him at a point of extreme vulnerability; her six year relationship had just ended and She honestly believed she could never love or trust again. Not really that uncommon a story, is it? Low on both cash and self esteem she posted an ad on craigslist looking to make some new friends. Although she received several responses, it was Jake's that intrigued her the most. He too had just gotten out of a six year relationship and he too was scared to trust again. Did men really admit these things? None that she personally knew.
The first night they had sex she opened up to him emotionally too. She told him how good it felt to be in a man's arms again, a man who desired her. He held her tight and told her that he never wanted to let her go. He opened up that he feared she would judge him because of his circumstances: a recovering alcoholic living at a halfway house. She explained she was in no position to judge and admired his honesty with her. This was the highest point of the relationship and she had no clue what a beast this seemingly gentle man really was.
Over the course of the next six months she rode the roller coaster of his moods swings. If he was in a good mood he was loving, affectionate, and sweet. When he had his bad days which were far more regular than his good days he became verbally abusive, cold, and manipulative. Somehow every argument they had was her fault, somehow she was always the one begging for his forgiveness. One time during sex he laughed at her and told her she needed to shave her pits. She cried and he told her she was being too sensitive.
He wouldn't call when he said he would. He wouldn't text when he said he would. Sometimes he canceled plans at the last minute. The day she first told him she loved him he shrugged and said, "That's nice." And he constantly sexually rejected her showing more interest in what was on TV than what was lying right in front of him. Not once had her called her beautiful or sexy, words he often used to describe material things such as his motorcycle or a big screen TV he saw at Bestbuy. She remained patient and understanding; this really came from a sense of desperation to hold onto him because she believed he was the only one who would have her.
After three months of dating he pressured her into moving in together. He explained how his insurance had run out, they were kicking him out of the halfway house, and he had nowhere to go. Of course she took him in. Two weeks later he didn't come home. When she tried calling him it went straight to voicemail. It was when she called his mother worried about what had happened to him that she found out the full truth: he was NOT a recovering alcoholic, he was a crack addict who had been battling the addiction for 10 years.
The next morning Jake had sobered up enough to call her and beg for her forgiveness. Jake was the master con-artist. He dropped the L-bomb and she was completely lost in his world again...until the night of her 31st birthday one month later. No cake, no cards, no present, and no Jake. He was off getting high while she spent all day sobbing over her stupidity. Jake didn't love her, he didn't even like her. The only thing he loved were his drugs.
There's a saying, "A woman is like tea, you don't know how strong she is until she's in hot water." She called a 24/7 locksmith and had the locks to their apartment changed. Then she made two trips down to his job where she dropped off all his things packaged in giant garbage bags. Lastly she texted him what she had done, right after called the cell phone company to have his number blocked. That night she allowed her self one last good cry and the next morning called a therapist.
It's going to be a long hard road to get to where she needs to go, but she needs to be brave enough to take that first step. It's been six months since she last heard or saw from Jake yet that doesn't stop those thoughts: is he okay or more importantly is she okay? She's okay right now, but that could change tomorrow. Time heals all wounds, even ones as deep as these.
About Me
- ElbieNy25
- "Scars are proof that we were brave enough to fight the battle and strong enough to survive it"-me 2008 Unfortunately/fortunately I have many scars from life, but I'm still here. I've been writing for over twenty years and just recently finished my first manuscript entitled "The Journey". I love peopl; they fascinate me with their stories, quirks, and mysterious ways.