Cleaned the house, threw out a bunch of crap that's been weighing my conscience. Phone bills from three years ago, users manual from the answering machine I owned in college and long since fell to bits. Paula called. Felt icky. Wanted cheddar sun chips. Only thing that's sounded good to her in ages. So I bought some, also pecan bread, turkey, paul newman's chocolate, and headed over. Adored her cats, thought more about whether to commit
. Went to Blockbuster, rented Grosse Pointe Blank
. The guy behind the counter said, "We'll see you back Monday." I wanted to yell at him. Don't get so fucking familiar with me.
Home, more cleaning. Too much crap all around me. What are these things doing for me?
Pete calls for Blind Date. Afterwards we stay on the phone for a long time. I start talking and can't stop. Something creeps up on me. I don't know why I don't need anyone right now and feel like I never will. People are better from a distance. I don't understand why I had to get so far away from everything, long ago. He says all my stories sound like I had to learn to think too soon. Don't you have any happy memories?
I apologize for making my childhood sound like it was during wartime. It wasn't all bad.
It is time for Pete to go to bed. I should have let him go long ago; I've been doing all the talking, he's been letting me. I ask him if he's working tomorrow, which does not mean I will go see him - it's a hard-to-lose holdover from long ago.
We hang up. I think about crying, but can't.
It is three in the morning and I feel like something that could have been learned may never come back to me and it's too late to get it back and I have to go to bed, I am too weary to understand anything.