the coastergirl diaries volume forty-five

she hadn't seen chachi. what did she tell me?

the window cost me several hundred bucks to pay for. i walked out to my car after the policeman left holding my ticket for causing a disturbance in a public place, which, according to him, should have been "riot-incitement" and got in my car. i turned up whatever shitty song was on and drove off. i had a channel changer of thoughts going through my head. most of them boiled down to the obvious questions: why, how did i let this happen, that sort of shit. i knew she woudlnt be a home for a few hours, so i went home and laid down. i tried to nap, tried to lure myself into the soothing nature of a dream, the calming sea of rhythm breath, a life-nod.

i coudnt' sleep, so i just laid there, pounding the bed like one does when one doesn't knwo what the fuck else is to be done. she called after a few hours and and told me she was stuck in traffic. had been for a while. she thought she'd be home in an hour or so, she said and wanted to see me.

i told her i didn't know and hung up. the truth is, i did know. i knew that i would be ethere when she got there. what i didn't know is what i was going to say. or what i shoudl care if she said. so i tucked msyelf into my car, pounded out blood eardrums worth of fugazi and started driving. i drove a few circles around bedford (the little subcity i lived in at the time) i wans't mad, that wasnt't he problem. the rpoblem was i didnt' know what i was. but it wasn't happy. i was three-a.m.-just-been-fucked-over-and-on-the-way-to-talk-about-it angstful. that's a legitamate emotion, you know. it was one of the ones freud and jung forgot to mention. thank god for rebel without a cause.

it took me three cycles of repeater plus three songs and one steady diet of nothing to get there. i got there before she did and sat outside in my car, smoking, preparing to be...well, whatever the situation called for.

when she pulled up i heard the smiths blaring and wondered what right she hzad to the smiths right then. the smiths weren't for people like her, not like her right then, no,t he smiths were for people like me, and tomorrow. she got out of the car and ran crying to me.

i melted.

looking back, i wonder just how much women use tears to their advantage in any given situation. regaurdless, i was a pile of wax.

me: what do you want to do?
her: it was dumb. i dont' know why i did it.
me: and?
her: and what? i'm sorry. so so sorry.
me: are you gonna see him again?
her: not if you dont' want to.
me: don't do that. you knwo i can't and won't tell you who you can or can't be around, no matter how it makes me feel. anyone who does that isn't worth the air they breathe.
her: well, he asked me if he could come to town. i'm going to tell him not to. i wanted you to meet him.
me: why?
her: i don't know, i just did.
me: if youw ant him to come to town, let him, but please don't fuck him.
her: of course, i won't. i don't even know why i did. it was stupid.
me: yes, it was.

she crawled into my lap and we just laid there quietly. she cried on and off for while into my chest and then we went uypstairs and went to sleep. i didn't hold her that night. i did still love her, though. isn't that how it happens?

adam did come to town. that next weekend. did i mention how mcuh i hate people from austin?

2004-01-16 | 4:40 p.m.
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