Not A Normal Thursday
Today was waaaay stranger than normal.
It started like lame-ass usual. I woke up later than usual, around 7 (for the fourth time this week), and I sat up and just stared at my pillow. I wanted to go back to sleep, but I just sighed and got up anyway.
As a treat for getting up, I wore my favorite flannel pajama bottoms to school.
I forgot to take Midol this morning, and around ten I had some serious cramps. I went to the bathroom, cursing my period, and took some Midol from the bottle I had in my purse.
You know, the little "just in case" bottle. (Thank God for Midol!)
Around noon, I was in Environmental Science watching a boring, bull shit video Al Gore made about Global Warming (lies, lies, lies...), when I was called down to the office for an early dismissal. I had no idea what it was about, and so I went down and found Dad waiting for me. He signed me out, and when we got outside, I asked what was up. He simply said, "I want to have a talk with you."
I thought I was in trouble.
We went to China Buffet for lunch. The whole way there, the car was silent. I was trying to think of something I'd done lately that would get me in trouble, but I really couldn't think of anything.
China Buffet was nearly empty, which surprised me, and Dad and I ate and exchanged some small talk. When we were done, Dad cleared his throat and said, "I wanted to talk to you about loss." "What about loss?" I asked, and Dad quietly said, "Jack was my best friend, too. I'd known him my whole life, Mollie. And when he died, it really tore me up inside." I nodded, and I reached across the table and put my hand on his. "Me too." I told him.
Dad talked about how to deal with loss. He told me that picking up the bottle, like him, wasn't acceptable. He said that drugs weren't the answer. He said distracting myself would help. Busying myself with work, friends, and hobbies would help. He mentioned therapy, and I stopped him there.
Dad thinks therapy is bull, and so I knew something was up. I asked him why the hell he was talking about loss, and death, and why the hell we were at China Buffet on a Thursday, at noon. He knew I wanted him to cut to the chase, and he did.
"You're going to lose your best friend, soon." He told me. He wouldn't look at me. "I just wanted you to know that I'm here to help you cope with it. Whatever it takes, I'll do my best for you."
It turned serious. I told him, angrily, that I wasn't losing my best friend. He told me to keep my voice down, and to accept things. "He's terminal, honey. You need to wake up and realize what that means."
I told him I knew what that meant. And I also told him that I wasn't giving up. I said he was no better than the stupid doctors at the hospital, giving up on someone who has so much life left in them, and then I got up and stormed out. I was pissed. I was upset.
I didn't want him to see me cry.
He paid and met me out in the parking lot. He hugged me, and I started to cry really hard. He cried too. He told me that he loved me, and that it would be okay. He said that he'd be there for me. I know he was trying to comfort me, but it didn't help.
None of it helped.
After lunch, Dad took me to buy a white blouse for the band spaghetti dinner, and then I asked him to take me back to school. I was still teary, and when he parked at the school, I got out, grabbed my stuff, and heard him ask if I was okay. I ignored him, slammed the car door shut, and I walked back into school.
I didn't need that today, Dad. It was shit I already knew.
******
The band spaghetti dinner was tonight. Hanging out after school, setting up, really fixed my mood. I was happy, laughing and joking with my friends. The whole night was fun, but exhausting. I stayed on my feet the entire time, and I enjoyed every minute of it. I like being with my friends, and I like working with food. I have always enjoyed food. Making it, decorating it, eating it, and even photographing it. And tonight, putting two of my favorite things (band and spaghetti) together was just what I needed to put a smile back on my face.
Plus Robby and I talked when I got home. We didn't argue today at lunch, and no one got moody! :D
I think we're working things out. I hope.
******
Today was strange. Not a usual Thursday.
And the wind outside makes me nervous.
...I think I'm all done-in for today.
Night.
It started like lame-ass usual. I woke up later than usual, around 7 (for the fourth time this week), and I sat up and just stared at my pillow. I wanted to go back to sleep, but I just sighed and got up anyway.
As a treat for getting up, I wore my favorite flannel pajama bottoms to school.
I forgot to take Midol this morning, and around ten I had some serious cramps. I went to the bathroom, cursing my period, and took some Midol from the bottle I had in my purse.
You know, the little "just in case" bottle. (Thank God for Midol!)
Around noon, I was in Environmental Science watching a boring, bull shit video Al Gore made about Global Warming (lies, lies, lies...), when I was called down to the office for an early dismissal. I had no idea what it was about, and so I went down and found Dad waiting for me. He signed me out, and when we got outside, I asked what was up. He simply said, "I want to have a talk with you."
I thought I was in trouble.
We went to China Buffet for lunch. The whole way there, the car was silent. I was trying to think of something I'd done lately that would get me in trouble, but I really couldn't think of anything.
China Buffet was nearly empty, which surprised me, and Dad and I ate and exchanged some small talk. When we were done, Dad cleared his throat and said, "I wanted to talk to you about loss." "What about loss?" I asked, and Dad quietly said, "Jack was my best friend, too. I'd known him my whole life, Mollie. And when he died, it really tore me up inside." I nodded, and I reached across the table and put my hand on his. "Me too." I told him.
Dad talked about how to deal with loss. He told me that picking up the bottle, like him, wasn't acceptable. He said that drugs weren't the answer. He said distracting myself would help. Busying myself with work, friends, and hobbies would help. He mentioned therapy, and I stopped him there.
Dad thinks therapy is bull, and so I knew something was up. I asked him why the hell he was talking about loss, and death, and why the hell we were at China Buffet on a Thursday, at noon. He knew I wanted him to cut to the chase, and he did.
"You're going to lose your best friend, soon." He told me. He wouldn't look at me. "I just wanted you to know that I'm here to help you cope with it. Whatever it takes, I'll do my best for you."
It turned serious. I told him, angrily, that I wasn't losing my best friend. He told me to keep my voice down, and to accept things. "He's terminal, honey. You need to wake up and realize what that means."
I told him I knew what that meant. And I also told him that I wasn't giving up. I said he was no better than the stupid doctors at the hospital, giving up on someone who has so much life left in them, and then I got up and stormed out. I was pissed. I was upset.
I didn't want him to see me cry.
He paid and met me out in the parking lot. He hugged me, and I started to cry really hard. He cried too. He told me that he loved me, and that it would be okay. He said that he'd be there for me. I know he was trying to comfort me, but it didn't help.
None of it helped.
After lunch, Dad took me to buy a white blouse for the band spaghetti dinner, and then I asked him to take me back to school. I was still teary, and when he parked at the school, I got out, grabbed my stuff, and heard him ask if I was okay. I ignored him, slammed the car door shut, and I walked back into school.
I didn't need that today, Dad. It was shit I already knew.
******
The band spaghetti dinner was tonight. Hanging out after school, setting up, really fixed my mood. I was happy, laughing and joking with my friends. The whole night was fun, but exhausting. I stayed on my feet the entire time, and I enjoyed every minute of it. I like being with my friends, and I like working with food. I have always enjoyed food. Making it, decorating it, eating it, and even photographing it. And tonight, putting two of my favorite things (band and spaghetti) together was just what I needed to put a smile back on my face.
Plus Robby and I talked when I got home. We didn't argue today at lunch, and no one got moody! :D
I think we're working things out. I hope.
******
Today was strange. Not a usual Thursday.
And the wind outside makes me nervous.
...I think I'm all done-in for today.
Night.