Fidelity

Fidelity can be defined as "faithfulness to a person, cause, or belief, demonstrated by continuing loyalty and support" but it means more than that. It is backed up by actions. As much as I enjoy being a fly on the wall and watching people, I sometimes find myself engrossed into an interesting situation unfolding. Real life is far STRANGER than TV. I love to see people lie about unnecessary things when I am seeing the full picture and the truth of the matter on both sides. For some readers who email me: The situations that I write about aren't always about me but often things strangers have shared with me. 

With that said this one is from me... several months ago a young woman approached me claiming she was dating the same fellow as me. My response was to inform her I was not involved with that man. We were acquaintances in a roundabout way and nothing more than conversations here or there. It was an interesting thing because I think she was more excited to be with a cheater than with an ordinary man. I walked away with a rumor, the knowledge of the truth and haven't seen the man again. I could never be with someone who could cheat on someone else. It is something I came to conclude through my own painful experience once. 

I think there are different kinds of relationships including those that aren't monogamous, but I don't think cheating is tolerable in any of them. I think marriage can work with honesty and I also think some people can be a threesome or foursome with the right honesty but you can't share someone without truth. Why? A cheater is a liar and a liar isn't sincere enough to be in a relationship. Lying nullifies your commitment. A liar is lying to you as much as they are the other person, and you have to wonder who and what else they are capable of being dishonest about. 

Here's an excerpt from the Novel - The Perspectives:The Inauthentic Life. It's about an affair. Don't get me wrong I do love writing & working on the Novel. But writing the book is always a hard process in character. And worth it when the chapters get completed. I miss the in depth writing occasionally but more and more I can't imagine my life without photography. So much that my time away is longer and it feels like I'm being unfaithful to the writing. 

Have you ever had an affair? Would you? Why?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Stuck at 12:22

(8-20-2010)

The clock reads 12:22. I can see him on the edge of the bed wrestling with his hand. Pulling. Twisting. Right. Left. Digging into the knuckle. Scraping against the flesh when I tell him to stop.

“Please stop. You don’t have to take it off. I don’t mind.”

“I want to take it off… when I’m with you.”

 “I can’t believe you let me sleep this late.” I say still looking over at the clock. 12:22.

“We just went to sleep three hours ago.” He half snaps at me.

 “Stop Baby. She’ll notice that mark.”

“And she won’t notice the tan line.” He says.

People will tell you don’t fall in love with a married man, to that I respond you can’t help who you fall in love with. When they tell me that I’m selling myself short, I respond that I know what I’m doing. And I do. I know the position I’m in. I know he can’t or won’t leave his wife. I don’t expect him to for me. He has to do that for himself. It doesn’t change the fact that he loves me. He does. We don’t talk about the things that can’t happen. We talk about the things we can do together. This is enough for right now. It’s funny what enough is when you’re in love. The sacrifices you are willing to make to be with someone.

When we first met I didn’t think I would like him. His assistant was a small child like boy that went to SFSU for human relations in communicative studies. Otherwise known as a communications major. Wanye Michaels meet Gina Maric was the introduction. His office was pushed back through a maze of hallways on the fifteenth floor of a building in the business district. I can remember the color of his tie that day. Yellow. Every distinct thing in the room I can recall like yesterday. And the first thing he said to me was, “You’re all wrong, get out of my office.” So I left and went to work for his partner Paul in the offices along the opposite side of the building. My title was personal attaché and that meant a lot of different things for Paul.

Paul had errands that involved things and boys all hours of the day or night. It wasn’t until Paul left for the NY office that I went to work for Wayne. And the switch was a breath of fresh daylight air and professional comfort. The first time I had to help Wayne he was between floors in an elevator with a “friend” and his other assistant the small boy from SFSU was panicking. Calling too many people. And Wayne wanting no more attention being drawn to the situation needed it taken care of immediately. To ensure they were dislodged quietly the phone call I placed was of the utmost discretion. Even handling the release and removal of his other assistant with several confidentiality agreements required caution.  Wayne had one rule if there was any: his wife didn’t need to know. I respected that. They had a history. She didn’t need to be reminded of things that she already knew about.

After handling the sticky mess involving the “friend” and former assistant I became Wayne’s full-time solitary personal liaison. The position required me to attend multiple trips and events with his business associates as a helpful connection. Several trips in I allowed things to change and it was then that I decided my first loyalty wasn’t to Wayne. When things started I knew I had to keep a part of myself from him. But that’s not how it ended up. One thing became two then three and I was already in the middle of much more. In the beginning we took care to hide the situation and he continued to be seen with other women, then occasionally we worked and spent time with his friends, eventually we attended events together. It wasn’t my intention to become one of his friends or lovers, it happened.

It’s not as though a woman starts an affair with the intention of doing so. I tried to explain that to friends in the beginning. It wasn’t as though I’d wanted to be involved this way. I would have preferred that he wasn’t already attached in a commitment to another. It wasn’t enough for them. There are always those people trying to tell you differently about finding happiness. That it’s not how they would choose so it must be wrong.

 “I don’t think your tan line will be the problem when the rest of you is tan.”

“Now isn’t the time to pick a fight. Help me with this.”

He twists the ring back and forth around his knuckle. I can see the pain it causes him. Rubbing raw against the skin. Digging in deeper. Stuck. He continues for what seems like an eternity. 12:22. I love the way his head leans forward to examine the struggle further. Like the ring was a mere part that was out of place. I move closer to lean in and kiss his neck and he shakes me off.

“What?”

“Just help me.”

“No. Really what?”

High viscosity. Means nothing is moving. Thick like quicksand anything that enters will become lodged in. Think of a sugary liquid in the bowl that won’t move unless you add more water. In order to make something move you have to add something to it. Sometimes that’s heat, sometimes its water and sometimes it’s like quicksand and there’s no way out.

We’re at lunch in the park when he tells me about the trip before asking me to pick up Adrian. He tells me he’s off of Howard somewhere. And how it’s this place that I’d never been in the Caribbean. We’ve been talking about getting away for a while but haven’t actually been able to. I ask him why Adrian didn’t call me first. He says it’s because he isn’t himself at the moment and I should just go with it. I smile and tell him that I love it when Adrian isn’t himself. He tells me this is pretty bad. I slide my hand across the table and cover his gently. I love when he shows concern for his friends. It’s almost 2:30. I should go. But he stops me.

“Baby, I love you.” He says and stops me from getting up.

“I love you too. What’s all this about?”

“I’ve been… I need to make it up to you.”

“Tell me then. “

“On the trip. Later.”

“Baby, I have to go then.” I get a quick kiss before leaving the table.

It’s hard when you’re with someone who is being unfaithful to someone else. It makes you question the basis of your relationship. It often makes you stop and wonder what it is about the person that they are cheating on.  And wonder if it’s really you that is being cheated on as well. Once in a while you start thinking that maybe they aren’t really with you because they want to be but that’s before you stop wondering if they’ll leave that other person as quickly as they’d leave you.

“Dahlia’s going to have another baby.” He says it like he wants me to react.

“Let me help with the ring. I have some lotion in my purse.” I get up and walk to the bathroom and get my purse.

“Did you hear me? I said...”

“I heard you. What do you want me to say?” I throw the purse on the floor and keep the lotion in my hand as I walk out of the bathroom.

“Something would be nice.”

“Wayne, we’ve been at this before. We’ve discussed what would happen if she had another baby.”

“Are you ready for this?”

“It’s not up to me. You’ve always needed to make this choice yourself.” I start lubing his finger and twisting.

“Baby, don’t be mad at me. Damn it, stop!” He pulls his hand back. “That hurts.”

“What then?” I sigh and throw the bottle of lotion at the far wall.

“I’m not trying to hurt you. Listen. I don’t know if I want to stay with her…”

“Wayne. Don’t tell me this. It’s not up to me. You can’t expect me to tell you the right thing h…”

“I’m not. But I told you I’d stay if she had another. I don’t think I want to. Especially since… ”

“Wayne, what is it?” I walk over and try to hold him although he pushes at me.

“She’s had someone else for a while and I looked the other way cause I had you. I think she might leave.”

“What are you doing to me? I’m done. I can’t. Leave me…” with a slap across his face I walk away and slam the bathroom door.

We’ve had our fair share of fights. I can’t believe I’m doing this half the time is what I think when I go back. No relationship is perfect. It takes work and there’s a fair share of ups and downs. You either ride them out or walk away.

Even when we’re leaving to LA to catch a meeting before flying out to NY before coming to the Islands I know we weren’t mad at each other for the previous week. The previous week when we fought over nothing and Dahlia had phoned the office to have me deliver the favors for the girl’s sleepover. An incident at the house with the family never goes well with Wayne. Its how she likes to behave he tells me over and over again.

Sometimes I think he wants to tell her not to call because of how it makes him feel afterwards. But he doesn’t. It’s hard to when I have to deal with the calls from the house. When I hear his wife on the line and his daughters in the background it’s difficult. Dahlia knows and the conversation is always forced kindness between us until it’s over and she sets down the line.

“You get to a point where you need to be with someone,” she says.

“How do you know?” asks her best friend Carla Andress.

“You don’t know. Trust, hope, happiness can all be things that you deceive yourself with. But the trick is in finding a way to get past all that fear of deception to be with someone.”

The conversation is staged for my benefit. I’m hearing the same lies she tells herself along with everyone else, meaning the other housewives and mothers of the girls waiting to be left at the sleepover. Funny thing is that these are the same things I tell myself. And I smile with all the grace within me as I leave the five bags of treats and toys from the Emporium in the living room. Deep down I know he wants to tell me “don’t come by the house”, but he can’t.

We’ve never been in his house. Together. I don’t think I could respect myself if we did. It’s always been in hotels or trips or with his friends. Most of his friends don’t know about her. It’s me that is the front. The wife and family are kept hidden. Sometimes it feels like she is the affair and I’m the one he is with.

It’s hard to imagine such a cold woman with Wayne. He tells me she isn’t like this. That she puts up the wall to cover the weaknesses. The children are happy and well cared for. It sends me spinning sometimes that I have to let him go back home to her. The long weekends with her in Mendocino hurt more viciously than any wound. Smiling on Monday when he tells me about the trip. About her, him and the girls. I hate that part of this. But I understand that this is what I choose. I could be with my friends or dating a completely available man, but this relationship is what I choose. Because this is enough. I chose to see him on select weekdays, weekends, and late lunches and between meetings at the office. I could be doing a thousand other things with myself, but I limit myself to him. Because I love him this is enough. And even though this is the part that wounds me, I wouldn’t want to die without any scars.

Wayne has me on speakerphone when I pull up across the street from where Adrian is sitting. Wayne tells me “kid’s gloves” before hanging up. Adrian doesn’t recognize me and seems pretty smashed. I get out of the car, smile and wave at him. I love it when I get to see Adrian even though he hasn’t been himself since Felicia. She really took a part of his heart out. And possibly his mind. I miss Adrian with Jemma. They both seemed to get on better before L.A. Before Felicia. Adrian keeps talking and taking hits while I’m stuck in traffic. He’s terribly witty even when he doesn’t know me. Tells me about hiring hookers for Wayne and that keeps me laughing. I can’t help wondering if this is what will happen to me when Wayne decides to leave me someday. Will I go crazy and lose myself? I think of sacrifices and scars and then I decide to arrive early for our meeting at the Four Seasons to talk with Wayne alone.

At the Four Seasons it’s another time when the ring is stuck and I can’t breathe while he’s undressing me in the bathroom of a hotel suite.

“Wayne, can’t we talk?”

“There’s no time. Are you sure Adrian is okay?”

“Wayne, he’s fine. He seemed happy to walk around.”

“Then come on. What’s wrong?”

“What happens when this is over?”

“We’ll go hang out with Adrian at the bar.”

“Wayne, be serious. What happens to me when you decide it’s over?”

“Fuck. You know how to kill it. Why now?” He tosses his watch and leaves the bathroom.

“Adrian. I think I’m afraid of being in too far.”

“Adrian did that to himself! What do you want from me?”

“Talk to me.”

“Let me guess. A commitment? You swore you’d never pull this shit.”

“I’m not. I’m leaving. I need to think.” I pull my shirt and jacket on and look at him.

“Gina. Don’t go.”

“Call me later. Don’t be late for Adrian.”

I drive around the park for two hours and 45 minutes before heading to Frank’s to meet Wayne and Adrian. It’s on the way to Frank’s that I decide I can’t get upset again. Not like this. Not about this. It’s not his fault. I chose this. The arguments, the wife, the sacrifices and scars.  

We’re on the deck of the yacht. I can see the crystal blue waters surrounding the boat. Wayne goes below deck for another bottle of wine. Dahlia is wearing the same printed swimsuit I am. She walks over to the railing and looks into the water. We’re alone and there’s nothing between us. I ask her what we’re looking at and I can see the white of her teeth when she smiles at me. She says nothing but reaches over and puts her hands around my neck. Tighter and tighter she squeezes and I can’t breathe. There’s no one around and I can feel the life slipping away from me. Then it’s like some small part of me starts to grow and grow from inside becoming this hateful rage. With that rage I reach back and start to crush her face in. Her hands release their grip. Fist by fist my hands pound into her flesh. Fingers start pulling at the skin to reveal nothing. I’m consumed by this and want to keep going, but I remember about Wayne and stop to push her body into the crystal blue waters. I watch it splash and the redness spreads. I can feel the blood dripping down my arms and the flesh stuck between my fingernails. I don’t care that she’s gone. My rage is satisfied.

And then I wake up. It’s not that I want to kill her. I don’t. To me she is an extension of Wayne. I love Wayne and that part of his life is precious. Valuable. My love extends to value what he loves. I can not destroy that which I love. I’m stuck. This is what I accept. Until the one day when it becomes too much. When I can’t anymore. When the quicksand is pulling me under. Then maybe I escape. But will I blame myself afterwards?

“Baby, come out. Don’t leave. Not like this. ”

“Why?”

“I love you. Come out. Talk to me.” I open the door and face him.

“No, why didn’t you say something before?”

“I didn’t think I could confront her. Shit, that’s not it. I don’t know.”

“I can’t tell you what to do…” I put my hand on his mouth, “Shh. I don’t want you keeping things from me.”

“Gina, I’m wrong. I should have said something. That was wrong. I want to be with you. Just you baby. Marry me. When this is over, make it real. Official.”

“Wayne, I love you. I’m not going anywhere right now. But I don’t know about official either.”

“Alright we’ll figure this out later. I love you.” He says before kissing me and starting things.

We make love on the floor outside of the bathroom and he falls asleep. Its still 12:22 when I realize that the clock is stuck. And the ring on his finger is stuck. Not me. I could leave at any time. I choose to be here.

Gina takes me to the Four Seasons. She has an appointment with a client and I’m having drinks with Wayne at 5:30. It’s only 4:15pm. You aren’t at the Four Seasons. You don’t like hotel bars. I’m the opposite of dry. What trouble can I find?

The ladies locker room isn’t where I should be. So I’m leaving even though she asks me to stay. Who? Someone. She follows me. Smiles and says come back to my room. It’s 4:25. I’ve got time. I need another hit.

It’s 5:15. The maids’ pantry is stocked with a thousand tiny little chocolate mints. There’s a closet full of those tiny mini bar liquors that is now missing thirty eight tiny bottles of Stoli Vodka. Mint Chocolate and Vodka sounds like an amazing new flavor for ice cream.  You would love that. Why don’t they put alcohol in ice cream? I’ll ask Wayne. He makes things happen. My bottles clink clank while I walk across the empty lobby.

I’m at the hotel bar. Wayne is here early. I’m beyond soaked. I show him my new dance that produces three little bottles from the bottom of my left pant leg. Wayne thinks it’s funny and asks me about Gina. I say client with inappropriate finger quotes. Wayne shakes his head and smacks me on the shoulder. I share about the party invite from Alex. Wayne looks at his watch, nods and tells me to order a drink. I forget about Stoli and Chocolate Mint Ice Cream… before I forget about you.

Intercept

Caught. In the act? Ha! Stealing or taking because you can? Yes. Or is it that you can't identify internally... Or still trying to figure out what you want... Who or what to do or simply what to say? Or perhaps you're a bit jealous and wanting to see someone not getting anywhere? I don't know about people and their jealously sometimes... Ha!

Anyhoo, I will steal from you without apology and honestly I'll tell you "I'm taking that" in regards to a story, a phrase or just something you did and I'll say it to your face. But I will tell you. I never hold back in writing or photography.

Another writer asked me which character was most 'me' yesterday... And I'll defer back that all of them are truly moi, but when I wrote the "book" Alton was closest to me as a model and she's at times nothing like me at all... 

Here's an excerpt from the book about stealing... 

Have you ever interfered or intercepted something from someone out of fear? Would you? Hmm... Says more about you than them dolls & kens.

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

caught stealing.

(9-15-2010)

and stealing is the last thing on earth that some would want to be known for even when they’re standing in between heaven and skid row. stealing. some might get a feeling of sick from such a word. not me as I can’t help taking what’s not mine and using it cause everything in this fine world takes a bite of something else and then gets by using it.

At the 711 looking for some beer with Clay and Alton shows up with Jane. Jane says she wants to go. I tell her there’s no way we’re going without grabbing something first. The clerk is watching us watch him instead of the door. There’s a man with a poodle outside the door. The clerk shifts his eyes when the dog yelps because some random guy with sunglasses scares him by screaming as he leaves the store.  It’s then I stick a six pack into Jane’s bag and Alton throws another under her Tom Ford exclusively one of kind coat. Clay keeps looking like he’s wasted and hands me a bag of sunflower seeds. I put them in my already full pocket and we leave while Clay stops to buy a pack of gum and takes a lighter from the display.

Sometimes I think, I don’t know why Clay does it. It’s not out of necessity. It’s not. He’s born and raised nearly straight off the country club with his day-to-day set of perfect clothes. Nothing like me or Jane with our luck that gets us by day-to-day with something.

Clay is the personification of a character that fell out of an Aberzombie and Fitch catalog one day and decided to try acid while base-jumping listening to Lou Reed off a four-story apartment building in East LA. More often than not he likes to take things that he doesn’t need. Need is palpable. And his is not as he slices open the contents of $4 DVD from Target then takes it home as a souvenir for the wall. The back wall of his living room in the 10.5 million dollar house that Ken-doll modeling didn't help buy, is covered with $4 dollar treasures from Target. He calls them his target practice and typically they’re not even movies he wants or likes. Somewhere in the sprawling mess he’s started a game room. Only the high dollar items and scene girls that like to star fuck are allowed in there. Alton once offered him a hand job if he would pretend she was Mick Jagger in the attempt to take a look. Lights out. 15 minutes. Neither got what they wanted in the end.

Alton is missing a chip up in her head. A screw loose or something like that. Therapist after therapist tells her that she’s got the noggin of a sociopath. But that doesn’t matter to her. In fact there is very little that Alton cares about except for stealing.

Alton looks like a model and talks like a sailor, carries around a plethora of sensor removing devices in her Gucci bag while smoking Marlboro reds in-between talking too much to anyone about how she’d like to fuck David Bowie. She once told an agent about this want and he told her that he could make it happen for a price. She says David’s not a whore and everyone she tells the story to that she’d never pay to make it happen. She makes her way in and out of the fine clothing establishments with anywhere between $3000-$5000 in clothing every day. Grand Theft Fashion. This is Alton’s full-time agenda apart from pick-pocketing men on the LA subway, especially the ones she picks up with the line, “Wanna ride me on the underground?” These men always answer a question with a question, “There’s an underground in LA?” but no one ever says ‘no’ to Alton. Not when she looks like that and talks as ridiculous as that.

Been caught stealing. Red-handed. Hand in the cookie jar. This time I’ve got a watch somewhere on my person and they’ll never find it. Cuffed and being carried through the open court of the mall. All the pretty little people doing pretty little shopping at the indoor venue for purchasing a whole lot of nothing and now they’re watching me, the awful criminal man being dragged through their day.

I think at the least the worst is over as the rent a cop mall security finishes frisking me for the watch I stole from the hand of the sales clerk. The truth is… he’ll never find it. Not where he’s looking anyway. It won’t be long before he gives up and throws me to the curb. They can’t hold you if you’ve done nothing wrong.

Watching Jane do it is like entertainment. She’s the girl next door with a ponytail and wholesome smile, walking in and out with her fast hands that react and don’t care where she’s at. In the store. In the park. In your house. In the middle of a crowd.  My girl’s like me she don’t need a reason.

Jane’s like a magician with her hands right out in the open. Handling business with me on the front side and reaching into the jacket of someone behind her faster than I can notice. It’s happening out where people don’t want to notice the obvious actions. As she’s walking up to a stranger’s bag rifling through it in the line at the store. Tells them she is looking for something if they catch her. They smile with patronization to the crazy girl and tell her that it’s not in there when she’s already taken their money and a royal red lipstick or appointment book and prescription of valium. She’ll bump into a man grab more than his waistline and while he’s busy enjoying the unnecessary action she’s taken his wallet, his keys and even his belt if he’s not careful. Hands are faster than the eyes.

Watching Jane in the 711 is like watching a master go to work. Not only is she packing the beer, but she’s managed to grab everything that no one is watching. Lighter fluid up her skirt, toothbrushes down her shirt, and if you’re lucky you’ll catch the lines of a cherry chapstick and a ball point pin in her hair. Then they sell these exclusive to 711 things on a shelf. No one wants anything exclusive that might make your insides your outsides. Jane takes them anyway and tosses one to the scared poodle on the way out.

I’m outside of the security booth at the mall when Jane phones me. I can’t remember picking up a phone today but its Jane so it must be mine. She tells me that she’s meeting Alton at 4, but right now she’s sitting with Sergio in a bookstore and waiting for his drug test watching people try to look important pretending they have better things to do. When I ask her where she’s going next she tells me that I’m supposed to meet in Clay outside of the electronics department at sears cause he has a surprise. Never telling me where she’ll be next.

Stealing watches right off someone’s wrist is like performing an act of magical community service. This is what I tell Clay when I meet him outside of Sears where he’s been waiting with a boombox secured neatly under his arm. I question him that’s the surprise and he tells me, no follow and watch. We reenter the store, return the boombox and leave with some large Craftsmen tools that are for opening things. I think this is a nifty trick and he tells me it’s not so handy before telling me about the Zoo.

We’re at the zoo watching the monkeys. No one is watching the monkeys at the zoo we just walked into thirty minutes ago after not paying and no intention of paying for where I swooped us three lemonade from a stand while a pimply faced girl made time with a boy wearing braces that looked like a child version of Clay. They didn’t even notice I was there. I walked up and walked away. One. Two. Three. After I finished the first lemonade Clay took the other two and tossed them into the monkey cage. Jane calls with Alton and wants to know what next, I tell her that I don’t know but we’re busy and after this I want some beer. Clay takes the phone and tells her 711. I tell him to fuck off. He tosses my phone. It shatters. He tells me that he’ll get me another but I tell him all I want is a beer. Clay starts cutting and hands me the other tool as he tells me that we’re going to when we’re done here. I tell him no one wants what’s inside of there to come out, and he tells me this is what he wants.

Outside of the 711 there’s a woman screaming about the monkey in backseat of Clay’s Porsche while the scared poodle isn’t yapping, the monkey is spitting on the windows of her car through the bars of its cage in the back of his car. Alton is busy with the man and his scared poodle who isn’t yapping, while Clay hands the screaming woman a wad of money, Jane smiles at me and takes the woman’s pocketbook. I tell her nothing and show her my new watch. She tells me she got me a shirt today and I tell her that’s just fine I needed another one before we…

Summertime

Rain or Snow got you down in the Summertime? Honey! Life is what you make it! A beautiful summer day is only filled with darkness if you let it be. People only suffer by their choosing not to let go and face things or people or themselves. It is what it is. Shit happens. You accept or change how you see things instead of suffering and you'll be happy. 

Realize people never change or grow because they don't want to. Don't worry about them. I don't. Needless to say you best worry about yourself in this life. F**k those other people who don't want to grow or change. You have to step back to move forward sometimes. Now here's something someone told me once and I hope it helps anyone who needs it... 

"You know one definite way that you know you've changed in this life? Well, you don't react to people or treat them same way as you've always done. When your first reaction or response isn't the same anymore that is when you know your life has changed. When you head toward whatever you're afraid of and meet it face to face then you will know that answer."  

Honestly I hope life has changes for everyone and they greet them willingly. But I can't say it works for everyone. May you find the change and peace you seek. 

Here's an excerpt from the perspectives... It's about facing the truth. The truth right now is that I can't stop myself from writing although I desperately want to and the effect is I'm still a bit emotional. Part of me thinks I want to hit a threshold on the emotional tolerance. But the truth I'm facing is that I run into people wherever I go and a few times I've rudely interrupted someone's flow & zone while trying to get into my own flow & zone. It's being suggested I rent a space on the coast for a week and get some work done... Have you ever done that, escape to work? Do you want to? Do you tell the truth? How about facing the truth? Life is what you make of it... Embrace the tears! Release them. Move on.

Enjoy!

Kisses, m. 

Tears in the Rain

(11-27-2010)

It’s almost Noon somewhere in North America and 3am half across the world maybe just maybe somewhere it’s midnight. The day has been on for 72 hours and the weather is slick as we make our way through Hayes valley. You want to find a place. Alex keeps saying he wants to eat. I say let’s find a place then eat there. Alex says “How about mine?” So we go.

We’ve been spinning around the scene for the never-ending day and the energy never quits coming. Alex keeps talking about this girl name Annie that lives up on Nob Hill while I duck into corners for quick hits. It’s down around Market when you decide we need a cab. Alex says I can’t walk anymore so I give him a ride. He yells “Giddy up Cowboy” and I laugh because I’m the horse. We’re tossing up the street and singing “Clementine” when it happens. I’m having an out of body moment that is thirty feet ahead and talking to a girl with a rainbow umbrella before running into another girl when it happens. It’s her.

It’s when they’re saying goodbye and Alex is yelling “Hi-Ho Silver away” that I realize I know that face, those eyes that hair and even though it’s different it’s the same. It’s passing by but I know it. And you know it. The face pauses when she sees me and Alex jumps down. He knows it too. I can’t believe it’s her and Alex is introducing us like we’re strangers again.

“Let’s take a trip together.” She tells me as we are walking through the farmer’s market near Civic Center on June 8^th and it’s almost three o’clock when she says it. She always was the one with the brilliant ideas. I can’t help but wonder what the next will be after this one. I nod and grab her waist tighter. She shifts her weight and pushes off to tie her red scarf tighter. I mistake the distance for nothing more than a loose scarf. I buy her a broken locket because she likes it before we leave the market.

If only after we make love that she tells me that she thinks she’s in love with me. I don’t know if it’s cause of the locket or because I promised to take her on a trip. I get up and walk to the bathroom to see if I’m still the same me and that it’s the right guy she thinks she’s in love with. Somewhere along the way I think I already love her so I tell her that when we are deciding whether we should eat Chinese or Mongolian BBQ for dinner. She grabs my face and kisses me when I say it. I don’t know if that’s what I expected, but at least it’s something.

The introduction is awkward. Alex knows me and knows her, but he doesn’t know us together when we knew each other. The girl with the rainbow umbrella is completely missable from the moment she said goodbye. It’s by luck that a cab pulls up because it starts to pour. We all decide to share among friends. It’s then I open the door for her and after she gets in when I tell Alex that’s “Felicia” with finger quotes. And he says “Your Felicia” before covering his mouth. After he gets in the front seat, you tell me to follow but instead I stand in the rain for a minute before getting into the back.

The cab is dry and smells like old curry. The driver is a middle age white man wearing a reversed black Giants ball cap that’s been modified with a Marijuana logo through the emblem. The rain is blanketing the window and streets. There’s nothing to say between us. She keeps making that sympathetic, understanding face at me like I’m upset. I can’t remember how she used to smell or taste or feel and I keep running into these empty places inside of me where there should be something instead of nothing. Alex starts talking about clothes and work. Felicia tells him how great it is to see him with a new collection. Then she mentions working with him again soon. I can’t stop trying to remember how she looked the last time I saw her.

We sit in silence for less than a minute when she leans over to whisper in my ear. Her hands are on my left arm. Leaning. Lips are pushing tiny bits of air against my skin. It’s when she says that we should talk and gets some air together. Instantly I tell Alex we have to go and stop the cab driver. I don’t know where we are but she follows me out of the cab.

After we get out of cab we’re in the middle of Jackson Square. The rain is coming down in waves. I can see her smile and eyes light up the way they used to when we were together. She runs to me and grabs my arm and starts spinning. There’s even a moment when you stop talking and join in. We’re in the middle of the grayest day beneath an ocean of falling water and there’s magic between us. I lean into her face and she kisses me. Dancing in the rain, kissing me again and I can’t stop the feeling that is building in me. I tell her that I’m glad we decided to do this. She smiles and tells me we should walk to the old place down the street before she kisses me. I agree and kiss her back.

Noon has finally come around and gone somewhere. We’re in this bistro place drying off from our brisk playful run through the rain that has my mind a little light. I’m still watching the weather outside with a smile through this brief dizziness. Our waiter brings two glasses of water and leaves the menu. She pushes it aside and looks at me then looks out the window.The rain is still coming down in sheets when she tells me about this guy she used to see that’s been following her. He’s been watching her with this new guy she’s been seeing. I look at her with a glare to cut a hole through her and she starts flipping through the menu. I wonder how many new guys there have been since me while she’s pretending to read the menu. It’s all in French. She can’t read French. She always orders the same thing here without checking the French menu that she can’t read. I know she doesn’t speak or read it but only pretends to and this is her way of avoiding eye contact. This makes me think of Paris and she interrupts to tell me “I think… yeah, I think I‘m in love. Do you remember Paris?” I wonder, does she remember Paris? Before telling me she thinks she’s in love she should try to remember.

And Paris wasn’t her first choice. We were asked to spend the time in Italy with my friends. Our yearly trip as a group and she said, “I don’t feel much like Italian” so I suggested France. Paris she screamed and threw herself around me.

It’s funny that she’s telling me she thinks she’s in love. It’s so funny how she thinks she’s in love and it’s even funnier that she’s telling me especially since she put the hole in my heart to begin with. Split me in two and left me looking for what comes next. You want to leave. I can hear you screaming in the back of my head while she keeps talking about him. Don’t leave. She’s just being herself. You swore you’d never walk out on me if she showed up again.

“Do you remember?” I remember. Before we left there and came here. But she keeps asking, “Do you?”

I remember how she wears love like an invisible dress. One day there the next day gone. See-through and without substance.

Paris. The rain with its smell and coldness reminds me of Paris. Our first and only trip and the demise of it all. She told me she thought she loved me then took off the dress and ran with it. Love was no more real than the Emperor’s New Clothes. Each day she would change the color of nothing. And each day I tried to convince myself repeatedly over and over again, but nothing I could tell myself could change the reality of her. That I was never a factor in her decisions.  Never mattering in the end. It was easier for her to go through the motions of it all because it wasn’t real. The days lasted longer than I could have ever imagined in that place of lights. The days were long and nights were quick. Hours spent between city dreaming and making love were almost indistinguishable the first week. Slowly days spent with my music replaced my time with her while she began watching anything but me.

Every morning we’d spend together she’d match with an afternoon in another man’s arms. I could see it all happening before my eyes and didn’t want it to be true, so I pushed it away. The distance in our time together grew. Our walks through the city echoed of them. Making love with the feeling of another’s touch on her. And then another’s taste filled her mouth. I couldn’t feel or see what she was anymore. 

Like a last stand before the end, she suggested a garden picnic that found us in the rain. It was when I realized it wasn’t different for me and that nothing had changed only her. She kept telling me she thought she loved me and kissed me. After I kissed her back she moved her wet hair and leaned back to unpack the wet things. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t fake better than the fabric of affection and then came thing that I couldn’t change. Somewhere between passing the small container of tea and handing me a tiny knife, she made her demands and I told her I loved her again. Instead of telling me she thought about it, she told me she was ready for Italy and I knew nothing had changed. And it was time to go back home and away from there. She followed them and I fell apart. 

“What the fuck?” I can’t restrain myself. “What do you mean you’re in love?”

“Adrian. Calm down.”

“What? Calm down? You’ve just finished kissing me in the rain, not even twenty minutes ago. But you’re in love with someone else. Why should I be calm? What do you want from me?”

“I always liked kissing you. I think I just wanted to. To feel you, taste you before I couldn’t anymore.”

“You… you. It’s because you wanted to. Damn girl. You’re even colder than I remembered.

“What? Why are you being like this?  Part of you had to miss me, and have a little curiosity about what it would be like again. ”

“Curious? I loved you. I missed you. All that we had tore me in two. And… YOU BROKE MY HEART!”

“Adrian.” She sighs. Like she even cares “I needed to talk to you about something else.”

“I don’t think I can listen anymore. Not with the way you t…”

“I think you should know about this…” She slides over a small paper that has crease from being folded.

“What? What am I supposed to do with this? Is it mine?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry I took care of it two months ago. I found out after I got back from Paris. I just thought you might want to know about it.”

Looking at the tiny black and white picture on the small folded paper with its tiny little roundness that’s barely recognizable as life I come to a realization. It’s when I realize that she can still hurt me from so far away.

It’s then I loose my patience and tell her she’s not wearing anything. This is always just another role that people play and she plays this well. Pretending to say or do things that they really do not mean to. It’s in that instant, that moment sitting across from me is this girl I’ve never met pretending to be someone I used to know. I tell her all this and she gets up and starts crying. Then she walks out the door. This isn’t done though. Those tears are mine.

She’s crying and running into the rain. And I’m running after her and catching up to my pain. Tears on her face are falling down while she is still trying to convince me of anything else with her mouth that tells me she couldn’t forget me but left because she had to. All the time her voice that tells me she knew at first glance that she had to tell me that she loved me in the rain in Paris and how much it broke her heart when I left her.

My broken face without tears holds when I slap her then tell her not to say it anymore. My lips that should stop the final crying lie from escaping with a kiss spill out words of pain. The words out of my mouth should be the ones that release her but from my voice echoes the reminder of her actions with punishment. She's falling and crying in the rain with her broken ego instead of a broken heart. My hands that should reach out to grab her, violently push her back down. And I walk away. Telling her that I don’t care. That I don’t want to care.

She follows and tells me that I’m damaged. Tells me that I should care and keeps walking behind me. I ask her why should I when she didn’t care. She didn’t care when it mattered to me. I tell she’s the one that’s damaged and killing life without caring about what it does to others. And I keep telling her to take her see-through version of love and keep giving it to that fellow she thinks she’s in love with. I’m telling her to go back to the one that came after the one that is following her, whatever number he was after me. This is when I realize why you’re gone. I can’t take this either. She’s still following me. I want to be anywhere else but in the rain with this crying liar chasing me.

This man on TV is talking to a child. I’m at a place that Wayne likes to stay but isn’t around. I’ve decided I’m not going home or calling anyone. The TV has surround sound and a wall sized screen that’s so clear I feel like I’m talking to this guy. But I’m not talking to this guy. He’s a man telling a child that Santa Claus isn’t real. That the Tooth Fairy is his mother. And that those puppies you get rid of don’t really go to the farm. This is how I feel about where I am at this moment. Nothing is real. Alex called before I got here and is coming to meet me. And you haven’t come back. Although I can’t blame you. I take a hit while the man keeps telling the child the truth. I take another and it only gets worse. The child starts to cry, break down and throw a fit. Demands that he never needed to know. But he did. The truth is painful but at least it’s real. I’m still trying to figure out why she did it, when I don’t care. I need another hit. When you’re ready you’ll come back.