Ashtrays, Feet, and Tempers

Dear Hearts,

“Life is much more successfully looked at through a single window, after all.” The Great Gatsby

Life is made up of a series of moments. Of episodes. Either some literary giant or my college professor talked about life being made up of a series of episodes. I can’t remember or find out which. PT, you’re being confused with the Greats.

You have to look at life as a whole. Each moment—like this morning when I jumped out of to bed to grab two of Mom’s just out of the oven chocolate chip cookies—ought to be appreciated. Even those moments of disemboweling pain—you’re grandmother died—have to be appreciated. Even if it is way, way after the fact.

Looking back to my freshman year of high school (in which the preceding summer I wanted to die-really, really die) which shoes I picked out with the most popular girl in school [and inexplicably] my best time for most of my short life didn’t really matter. At the time, the right shoes and jeans meant everything. They meant fitting in or being spit on. No one spits on me literally again like TG had in eighth grade, but a lot of people spit on me metaphorically. And, I let them. I am also culpable.

Looking back at that moment—those shoes, which I can still picture and did come back into style for a time—did not matter. What matter was my desperation to get away from the abuse and fear at school. And, at home, although I would not have described my home as abusive or fearful for a long, long time to come. The single window was my “Get thee behind me, Satan” attempt to fit in. To not hate myself. To not be a failure.

So I move out to the Holy City for Act II.

And down same Goddamn-mother-of-sweet-fuck rabbit whole do I go.

Moments:

October 25, Wednesday

*I am having my Sacred Coffee Hour and have smoked at least one cigarette and finished half of my coffee.

*Aunt Faerie (Aunt) calls me to say that Papa has twisted his ankle before he left for her house and is on his way home. He may need some help getting in from the car.

*Kate goes into Crisis Mode: He didn’t twist it. He fell I know it. I just knew it. And, I was right. He had fallen and had trouble getting up, but did not bother to call out to me, even though I was my the bedroom.

*G-Pa comes home from the ER with some kind of guaze-ace bandage cast that some ER Sawbones put on his foot and said that the break will be fine that way until he sees an Ortho Monday of Tuesday. It’s fucking Wednesday.

*Aunt is up against the Iron Curtain of deadlines with this stupid book about how masculinity is portrayed in art in Post-WWII Soviet Union between 1945 and 1965. She says it’s interesting. Really? Aunt, would your life been changed one iota without knowing this silly woman’s theories?

*G-Pa can bear no weight on his foot. But he tries, and it takes Aunt and I to lift him

*I take Thursday off and stay on G-Pa duty while Aunt rents his wheelchair, commode, and buys a cane.

October 26, Thursday

*G-Pa asked me to sleep with him that night. He was scared. He was in pain. I love G-Pa, but I don’t know him the same way I knew Pop. My fraternal grandfather was in my life every day. We lived together. So I just sleep on the edge of the bed and wake up every few hours. Weird. Sleeping with your grandfather who is embarrassed by your cleavage---it’s just fucking weird, okay?

*Kate gets Papa into the Ortho by saying the doctor said he had to be seen today (lie) and making the situation sound, well, as dire as it is.

*Kate and Mom have been looking into home-health aides and even rehab facilities based on what the Sawbones and some agencies said about his abilities with a broken foot.

*Kate sees on image AGAIN AND AGAIN: G-Pa falling on his broken foot and breaking a hip, something from which he will never come back.

*Aunt and Kate have full-on foot-stomping, screaming match about calling 9-1-1 to take G-Pa to the hospital. Kate wins because she has the phone and can yell louder. (When the dispatcher asked what all the yelling was about and if the police were needed, I reassured her by saying that I was Burning Bed Employee.)

*Aunt is PISSED that Kate called the ambulance to pick up G-Pa---unnecessary drama. Kate ends up inside her car just sobbing and wailing with her head on the steering wheel before leaving the hospital.

*G-Pa comes home with a walking cast. How much weight he can bear on it is not clear.

*G-Pa sleeps alone because Kate hooks up the wireless doorbell he bought. He presses the button and it rings in her room. Loudly. Now, the button is tied to the bedpost and in a plastic baggie. Thursday night, I just gave to him. It ended up under his fucking pillow.

*2.45 a.m. Kate is up at doing Olympic worthy hurdles over the wheelchair in the hall to get to G-Pa who just rolled over. This same occurrence is repeated around four, and six a.m.

*When Aunt wakes him at seven, we change his underwear. Without looking.

*Friday, I actually fall asleep at work with my head in my hands—and start to dream.

*Kate pulls a slippery, mortified, embarrassed, and frustrated naked G-Pa out of the tub.

*Kate officially begins losing it. Or perhaps, it’s been lost.

October 27, Friday

*Kate bungles through the workday and comes home to a house that is absent of shoes, coats, sweatshirts, or any other possible signs of a real life. A junior high student was going to interview G-Pa for a school project and forgot to communicate with Aunt that she had cancelled the interview for that day. But, Dr. Swede has decided to join G-Pa in his time of need.

*Kate comes home apologizing. “For what asks,” Dr. Swede. “Not being good enough. Just being alive.”

*Kate wonders who the cleaning culprit was—because she had made it conditional with G-Pa that if the girl came over to talk to him, she was NOT moving any shoes or sweatshirts. Aunt, follow Nancy Reagan’s example and just say “NO!”

October 28, Saturday

*Kate does have time to run to her tattoo artist and get a touch up that took all of literally 60 to 90 seconds. But, Paha Sapa finally looks whole and without cataracts.

*Aunt brings over enough meatloaf for two meals for each of us for two days. THANK YOU GOD AND AUNT!

*Then Aunt disappears into Editing Vortex not to re-emerge until Thursday.

October 29, Sunday

*Honestly, I don’t remember. There was ice on G-Pa’s foot and some eating and feeding him.

October 30 and 31, Monday and Tuesday

*Kate works at BB and fucks up. She gets a serious lecture about how she is fucking up. Kate is angry but also wants to punch this girl, who is five years her junior and less educated, in the fucking face. Kate is convinced that she is a fuck-up and will not be able to do the job. In Kate’s defense, Tonya gives her a very manipulative lecture about how if Kate makes mistakes in the Domestic Violence Department, Tonya can cover Kate. But, if Kate fucks up in the Sexual Assault Department, Tonya can’t protect her and the SV Director has probably all ready complained to the Executive Director about me. And then the directors will come to me and scream, “What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

Tonya, standing over me while I take a call does not help. Playing the whole “love me more” card—I recognize it. You don’t supervise that way by putting your colleagues and making yourself the “good parent.” You hired me because you approved of the way I did the job. If any director came to me and said, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”, there would be no discussion. I would walk and say call me when you can talk to me without swearing. Asshole.

This whole almost all female staff, political power trip stuff is---I am so not into it. Why do women always try to “get” eachother.

*Kate’s ship capsizes. It just goes Titanic.

Novemeber 1, Wednesday

*Kate goes alone to the airport to pick up Mom. First, she stops to get her new glasses. Then, on backing out of the parking---oh here, it where is gets good…

Looking at all of this through a single window, Kate can see the cause and effect and the culmination of stress build up that breaks Deep Water Horizon style. At the time, not so much…

*Kate backs up from her more than once parked in space at the eye doctor and BANG-BAM-SCREECH. When Kate emerges from her car, she sees that she was back up clear over an unmarked concrete ledge. Half her car, rear wheels in the air, is over this two-foot ledge and the other half of her car is perfectly balanced on the parking lot side.

This is what goes through Kate’s head: Mother fucker. All I want is a cigarette and fucking coffee. If I call a tow truck I will really late to pick up Mom at the airport. Mmm. I wonder if I can go forward? Nope. I wonder what would happen if I back up? Kate ends up with all four tires on the same level but now her front bumper is not fully attached.

Tearfully and hysterically, Kate goes to Ray’s Auto for help. They assure her that there is no damage to the undercarriage or the engine, which Kate felt scrape the ledge with a sickening metal of concrete scream, and they can tape the bumper on enough for her to go to the airport. GOD BLESS YOU RAY FOR NOT CHARGING ME A PENNY.

Three Xanax and a blubbering, snotting call to her father has Ray’s wife patting Kat on the shoulder telling her that is will be okay. She has that same—please don’t go nuts and start shooting up this place that the eye doctor had.

*Kate gets Mom from the airport and then Kate quits.

Novemeber 2, 3, 4, 5,

I am short-tempered and depressed. I am anxious. I want to disappear. I don’t know how you can fix it, Mom. I don’t even know how to fix this. Mom has taken on G-Pa and basically family duties. I am spending time with her, but I am just withdrawn from the family. I can’t. I can’t…Yes, I am deeply depressed and unhappy…

I made a covenant with God…

I have a Wolf Heart.

J.S., I hope you are okay. You deserve family to take care of you.

Ashtrays, feet, and tempers break and no pie, coffee, cigarette, all the king’s men, or Mom can put all the pieces back together again.

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Ailbhe; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

Grateful For:

Jacket from Mom

Sleep

Family

Health

Café Pie

Faith

Cigarettes

Ray

The bumper costing me only $500...

The single window is obscured...even if I do have new glasses.