Calve Key of Whimsey!
I didn't get to see Dave last weekend (Two weeks ago)… I could feel an inevitable malaise set in… I’ve never missed anyone this much. It’s all beginning to scare me. There’s a reason I put up a protective wall that shut everyone out. I’ve been hurt too often… I don’t want any more of that. But Dave has brought the wall down, and I’m still in awe over it.
I got to see him Saturday after sitting in traffic for 45 minutes… Fucking congested highway… What dumb sumbitch thought to shut down both lanes between 127 North and South periodically allowing vehicles through? They’d get done so much quicker if they only shut one lane down so they could work consistently and not have to stop to let the traffic through. Dolts.
We spent a lot of time in the apartment not doing a whole lot, but that doesn't mean there wasn't any substance to what we did do. No, there was plenty of that. I want to absorb as much Dave- time as possible. It all feels so completely surreal.
We eventually walked a few blocks to a Chinese restaurant where I was served shrimp and vegetables from, ironically, a Middle Eastern guy. Tried crab Rangoon for the first time. Squashed muddobbers on the windows. Discussed the assortment of angry mobs that would be ushered in to Dave's funeral. After disposing of the remnants of my Chinese goop, we headed to a nearby park where Dave pointed out the court that he, Chris, Corey, and Lunchbox occasionally play roller hockey on and guided me to the bench on a hill overlooking the park where he used to go frequently to draw and write and think. We sat and talked and shared stories. He’s amazing. Walked the “nature trail” that was technically a bird sanctuary/tour of the backyards of Portage and headed back to Dave’s apartment. I love all of the intimate time we share.
I met his father... From that brief encounter I can't really formulate any sort of opinion about him, nor would I have the right to, since parents are the ones with the privilege to judge- he seemed interested in meeting me and came across as friendly and open. I can see myself engaging in some sort of drinking game with him. His sons are immensely frightening. But then again, children in general are the devil.
At the end of the day, Dave and I hiked up to the Dairy Mart and got our own personal cures for cottonmouth: V8 and Ocean Mist something-or-other citrus junk. We made a feeble attempt at blending in with the rest of the white trash and became porch monkeys in front of his apartment. There would have been a pretty view had those other god-awful apartment buildings been obliterated.
I’ve come to realize that when Dave asks me about things concerning tender areas of my life, that I open my mouth and things I’ve never spoken of to anyone before come spewing out- thoughts, feelings, recollections of events that no one knows about but me and those that were there to witness it all. And when it’s all out in the open and floating about, there’s always a moment where I’m a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming Mitsubishi that was purchased just the day before. I’m suddenly devoid of a turtle shell to curl myself into. Then comes the suspense that leads to the collision that’s all teeth and mangled carcass:
“Jesus, Amanda, what’s the matter with you? How fucked up can you get?”
But that never comes. Dave just smiles at me and serves me a tight embrace or a kiss or words of consolation. This is all so new to me… Having someone genuinely concerned for my well- being and desiring to be in my presence as much as I want to be in his.
It's getting more and more difficult to leave each Saturday.
Apparently I was getting a lot of quizzical looks from the oh-so bland residents of K-zoo due to my appearance when Dave and I were out gallivanting. Well, they better prepare themselves for a lot more of me… K-zoo needs some stirring up.
I got to see him Saturday after sitting in traffic for 45 minutes… Fucking congested highway… What dumb sumbitch thought to shut down both lanes between 127 North and South periodically allowing vehicles through? They’d get done so much quicker if they only shut one lane down so they could work consistently and not have to stop to let the traffic through. Dolts.
We spent a lot of time in the apartment not doing a whole lot, but that doesn't mean there wasn't any substance to what we did do. No, there was plenty of that. I want to absorb as much Dave- time as possible. It all feels so completely surreal.
We eventually walked a few blocks to a Chinese restaurant where I was served shrimp and vegetables from, ironically, a Middle Eastern guy. Tried crab Rangoon for the first time. Squashed muddobbers on the windows. Discussed the assortment of angry mobs that would be ushered in to Dave's funeral. After disposing of the remnants of my Chinese goop, we headed to a nearby park where Dave pointed out the court that he, Chris, Corey, and Lunchbox occasionally play roller hockey on and guided me to the bench on a hill overlooking the park where he used to go frequently to draw and write and think. We sat and talked and shared stories. He’s amazing. Walked the “nature trail” that was technically a bird sanctuary/tour of the backyards of Portage and headed back to Dave’s apartment. I love all of the intimate time we share.
I met his father... From that brief encounter I can't really formulate any sort of opinion about him, nor would I have the right to, since parents are the ones with the privilege to judge- he seemed interested in meeting me and came across as friendly and open. I can see myself engaging in some sort of drinking game with him. His sons are immensely frightening. But then again, children in general are the devil.
At the end of the day, Dave and I hiked up to the Dairy Mart and got our own personal cures for cottonmouth: V8 and Ocean Mist something-or-other citrus junk. We made a feeble attempt at blending in with the rest of the white trash and became porch monkeys in front of his apartment. There would have been a pretty view had those other god-awful apartment buildings been obliterated.
I’ve come to realize that when Dave asks me about things concerning tender areas of my life, that I open my mouth and things I’ve never spoken of to anyone before come spewing out- thoughts, feelings, recollections of events that no one knows about but me and those that were there to witness it all. And when it’s all out in the open and floating about, there’s always a moment where I’m a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming Mitsubishi that was purchased just the day before. I’m suddenly devoid of a turtle shell to curl myself into. Then comes the suspense that leads to the collision that’s all teeth and mangled carcass:
“Jesus, Amanda, what’s the matter with you? How fucked up can you get?”
But that never comes. Dave just smiles at me and serves me a tight embrace or a kiss or words of consolation. This is all so new to me… Having someone genuinely concerned for my well- being and desiring to be in my presence as much as I want to be in his.
It's getting more and more difficult to leave each Saturday.
Apparently I was getting a lot of quizzical looks from the oh-so bland residents of K-zoo due to my appearance when Dave and I were out gallivanting. Well, they better prepare themselves for a lot more of me… K-zoo needs some stirring up.