Sensitive...

I’m up early but am having trouble writing so I run instead after a brief stint at Inman Perk with a blank page on my computer screen. It’s so damn hot outside that I’m sweating after ten minutes. I keep going though, enjoying the trip my mind is taking.
After a tiny little judgmental comment that was made to the back of my head yesterday at CVS, I’m still fuming. Maybe it’s because I feel I’m still walking around without skin and everything hurts. Maybe it took me back to an ugly place I’d rather not visit ever again. I don’t understand why people feel the need to say the things they do. What does it do for them? And people want to know why I want to move to Chicago…
My mind shifts to all the amazing people that I’ve met and made friends with here. It’s the only thing that keeps me from running straight to the airport, my sweaty self boarding a non-stop flight to O’Hare and never looking back. “I can’t get so mad that I just leave.” I remind myself. I have to step way from the cliff I’m about to jump off of and sit tight until I’m better prepared. I think too that I need to be proud of who I am. I am not a carbon copy of the typical blonde, southern, sorority girl and there’s not a damn thing wrong with that.
I am though, extra hyper sensitive for reasons that I’ve yet to identify. I’m trying to keep it under control but whatever it is, it’s definitely taking up too much space in my head.
I make it back home, and shower. “I want a haircut.” I think to myself. Hmm. Something different. I decide on something asymmetric, but I don’t text Rio right away. I’m going to run some errands first before I get carried away. My little balanced Libra self usually doesn’t like anything asymmetric.
Three hours later I’m sitting in Rio’s bathroom, sans glasses, staring at his blurry image while he cuts my hair off… on one side.
“You know I’m just making this up as I go right?”
“Uh huh! Doesn’t everybody?” I laugh.
I’ve missed my buddy. When he’s done cutting and drying he’s all smiles.
“EEEK!!! Love it!” I squeal after putting on my glasses.
“Good! Can you do mine?” he grins.
“Of course!” I stand and we switch places. “Wow. It’s been a long time.” I smile, referring to the time that’s passed since I’ve cut Rio’s hair. An image of him sitting in his chair at Van Michael after hours, feeding me pizza while I’m fumbling through coloring his hair makes me smile. We’ve had some fabulous hair adventures.
When I finish we’re both all smiles, and then I realize I have to get moving. I’m going to Rob’s parents to cut Lesley’s and Laura’s hair. I race home and get everything packed up and head out. It’s Lesley that answers the door when I ring the bell.
“Hi!” I hug her while simultaneously trying not to step on Rob’s dog, Jake as he loses his mind from excitement.
“Hey. Come on in.” she smiles.
The three of us walk upstairs and Laura meets us at the top.
“Hey Melissa!” she hugs me.
“Hi!”
We walk into the kitchen where Laura is making mashed potatoes. Rob’s dad is on the phone with their older sister Kate who is living in Montana for the summer. When he hangs up he calls me into the living room. Lesley follows.
“Have a seat.” he tells me.
I sit next to him and Lesley sits across from me.
“You asked me questions about Rob’s death and I didn’t have the answers.” he began, then looked at Lesley. “You may not want to hear this.” She didn’t move. “So I asked if his eyes were open…”
I asked this question weeks ago and he didn’t know the answer. I’m looking at him now, not blinking. It’s as if a barrier has been placed in my head separating it into two halves, so I’m able to her everything that’s being said to me but its unable to sink in just yet.
I nod.
“They were, and I was told the trauma was so great he died instantaneously.”
I nod again.
“I didn’t know. You asked. I had to find out.”
I didn’t say anything. He’s right. I did ask. I don’t understand my endless curiosity but it’s there and I’ll hear what anyone has to say about it no matter how difficult the subject matter is.
He changes the subject and moves on to painting a picture of Rob that isn’t in my eyes, from what I’ve seen and experienced, true. The skin on my chest begins to heat up and I feel it turning red. I know everyone is going through their own difficult time with their own grief. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a child. I want to take away all his hurt and hear everything he has to say no matter what but this time I’m taken aback. I want to correct him but I don’t say a word, just stare wide eyed and try to remember this isn’t my story.
My story is that I was in a relationship with a man who was a complete gentleman. Who didn’t use me for his benefit. Who was curious about me, my life, my thoughts, my opinions. Who wanted to talk to me. Really look me in the face and tell me everything his heart desired then wanted to know everything mine did. He didn’t judge me, criticize me, or put me down. He treated me like a lady.
I’ve been with more people than I care to admit who have used and abused me so to see Rob in this light is impossible because it was something he never did. Not to me, not to anyone else he dated.
“Dad, Melissa is here to cut hair.” Laura called from the kitchen. I still don’t say a word, waiting on instruction, which I believe has been given. I ask Lesley to wet her hair and I set up in the kitchen. I cut both Lesley and Laura before Rob’s mom comes home. When she does, we eat dinner and it’s delicious.
A little while after dinner I’m walking down the driveway with Rob’s mom and we’re talking various things as the sky is lighting up with sporadic bolts of lightening. As we’re saying goodbye she tells me about this part in the movie ‘P.S. I Love You’.
“There’s a part in the movie where Hillary Swank’s character is told ‘Jerry was just a chapter in your life. You are his eternity.’” she tells me.
I can’t see her face but I know she’s crying and I’m about to start as well. We say goodbye and I climb into my car. I cry all the way back to Atlanta. I wanted Rob and me to be each other’s eternity.
When I get home I park my car and think about going up to Limerick to visit Kat who is working tonight. It’s Monday and I expected it not to be too busy. I quickly walk up the hill and down the street to the pub.
“Hi!” she flies out from behind the bar and hugs me.
“Hey!”
“What’s going on?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I just needed some Kat love.”
I order a half pint of pear cider and we sit together at one of our favorite tables briefly recounting the events of the past few days.
“Hang on. Sorry, I better get back up there.” she looks up at the crowd of people that just walked through the door.
“Kay. I’m going to sit at the bar.” I stand and as I’m about to head for a seat in the middle of the bar between two guys that seems preoccupied Kat’s boyfriend Gordon walks up to me.
“Hi darling!” he hugs me.
“Hi.”
“Coming to see Kat?”
I nod. “I’m about to sit at the bar.”
“Ok. Don’t sit right there though.” he nods to the very spot I was headed. “Sit here on the end with my friend Andy. I’m going home.” he quickly introduces me and Andy then leaves.
I nod. I really don’t feel like company this evening. I don’t want to talk to anyone but Kat right now, and if she’s not going to be available then I just want to hang out with my cider and think. Maybe he won’t talk.
Oh, but he does. I’m having a hard time hearing with the live music going which is making this worse. I don’t want to concentrate on his words. Something is being said about politics (nothing bores me faster) and how he loves it and how he works for so and so and…
My mind wanders to how am I going to suck this drink down without it being obvious that I’m sucking it down.
“So why are you drinking that half pint of cider?”
Because…IT’S WHAT I WANT DAMMIT!
“I don’t drink much.” I reply instead.
“Why?”
Because I have an eating disorder that alcohol aggravates. Because my boyfriend just died and drinking sends me into a depression and could possibly spark alcoholism if I’m not careful. People! Why is it so important that I drink? If I don’t drink, there’s something “wrong” with me. If I do drink, (me personally) I’ll become a lush, be stupid and that’s most unflattering. I know what I can and cannot do with alcohol and I don’t need anyone telling me otherwise.
“I. Just. Don’t.” I calmly reply and inhale another huge sip.
“Oh. So what do you do in your free time?”
I don’t want to answer any more questions, thank you.
“I write, run, read, hang out with friends. Whatever.” Another huge sip is being taken. How long is it going to take for me to finish this bottomless half pint?
“You run?”
I nod. “When my shins and knees allow.”
“So have you done a marathon?”
“No.”
“A half?”
“Nope.”
“The Peachtree?”
(Hell) “No.”
“Oh, so you’re just a casual jogger then.”
I’m about to casually jog my irritated ass right out that damn door.
“No. I’m not. I’m a runner.” my tone is beginning to darken and I feel I’m about to get mean if I don’t leave soon.
He’s staring at me. My eyes are wandering and every time they look at him he’s still staring at me like he’s looking for buried treasure on my face. I down the last of my cider as Kat magically appears.
“Gotta run shug.” I hug her quickly.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t talk much.”
“No worries.” I slide off the chair I was sitting on and practically race out the door.
Inside my house, locked away alone with my thoughts I pull on one of Rob’s shirts and turn out my bedroom light. Once in bed the tears come until I don’t remember being awake anymore.