"The Restaurant"
Smiles and affections served here.
Some of her best:
“She’s so queer, she’s gonna turn out gay.”
“I really like the chicken from Publix” (pronounced pube-licks).
Erin: “Which of your friends are going? Anyone I like?”
Me: “Probably not. Erin you don’t really like people.”
Erin: “No! I like people! …it just depends on…who they are.”
Erin, after tasting something, and spitting it out directly onto her paper plate: “UGH! TASTES LIKE AN IDIOT!”
I feel like a lot of my posts for the last few months have been full of negative comments. And honestly, since December, life’s been a little tougher. A little more touch-and-go. But all in all, I want you to know that things are fine! Things are still good. Things are still great!
For example, I learned that I am still graduating early, if I choose to stay at UVM. Graduate school will be that much closer. In addition, I have a babysitting job until early June, and then a possible house sitting job sometime after that, along with any work my mother needs me to do, so money isn’t too much of an issue this summer. I will be spending most of July in South Carolina just relaxing (which is something I don’t do often for longer than a day here and there). Some of my friends from college are keeping in touch, which is wonderful! So, you see, things are fine, and I am still quite happy. Not all day, every day — but every day!
Just a warning: for the next few weeks or so, Darren is here. So any unnecessarily rude or complaint-filled posts should be taken with a large grain of salt. He’s been here a couple days now, and the sleep deprivation is already wearing on me. I can only imagine how I’ll be, come June 1st and beyond…! I apologize in advance. Thank you for bearing with me.
It’s bed time. The little booger won’t stay down, so off I go to read another story. He keeps begging me for Dr. Pepper. The kid eats, drinks, and breathes sugar. He is, in a word, “cray.”
I swear I’ve used forty gallons of gas since my return home two weeks ago. Unreal!
When I returned from college a couple weeks ago, things were great. Everyone was happy to have me back, and the general energy about this apartment (where I will be spending the next few nights), was positive. Chris was even drinking less. He seemed chipper, a bit happier. Granted, he’d just spent three weeks away from Danvers, helping my grandparents move into a new house in South Carolina. Distance certainly does make the heart grow fonder (doesn’t it?).
Well, by last Sunday he was back to normal: grumpy, arrogant, entitled, judgmental, and full of complaints.
I’m sure I sound entirely hypocritical when I rant like this. But in my defense, a girl’s gotta vent. So:
Here’s the kick: I love Christopher Walsh. I love him so much, that I can admit I don’t like him. I would not choose to be his friend, if it were a choice I could make.
So in the meantime, I will continue to love him as well and as hard as I can. Maybe someday it will make a difference. I accept the fact that mom will keep him around for a while longer. If it’s what she wants, then it’s what I want. Because I love her more. She’s all that matters.
Side note: Charlie Sheen will be starring in a new comedy, Anger Management. Not sure if this was an appropriate response, but I blurted aloud, “Are you kidding?”
Well, anyway.
I’ve been awake since six-thirty this morning. Dropped Erin off at school, got myself some Bagel World, came home, made tea. Dad’s still snoring away on the couch.
It was hard to get out of bed this morning. I think that’s what rainy days do sometimes. Sunlight streaming in through my window usually helps. But then, the clouds…
I seriously cannot concentrate with this snoring in the living room/dining area. It interrupts every —
In my room, where snoring cannot be heard:
Well, let’s see.
If I may be honest, I really was not looking forward to leaving Burlington a few weeks ago. I thought I would grow bored here at home. But I haven’t yet. It is odd, waking up in “my own bed,” seeing my family on a daily basis, having to report as to where I am and when I’m coming back, making my own meals again, taking my sister to school, picking my sister up from school, working through finances with dad, working through Quickbooks with mom, etc. etc. etc. (insert further home life responsibilities). At the very least, it is comforting to have back that familiarity. I imagine I will miss it when I leave again.
Do you ever notice how vibrant some colors are outside when it rains?
I love that sound. That trickling down the gutters on the side of the house. That arrangement of puddles on the sidewalk. It’s kind of peaceful.
I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to write here. I’m sort of sleepy, even though I hopped into bed around eight-forty-five last night. I do remember having some strange dreams. Come to think of it, dreams have been interrupting my sleep every night lately. I wake up feeling anxious, sometimes guilty. But of what? I can’t put my finger on it.
Since everyone’s left my house and gone home, I am inclined to write you a post. I’m sitting here, thinking, drinking some hot green tea. You know, it’s crazy how we can all come together after such a long year and simply gel back into a similar routine. I feel grateful — blessed, even — to have such wonderful friends. I missed them all so much.
Distraction: a low-pitched tone coming from… my kitchen? The back yard? God, I hope it’s not the grill. The last thing I need is for that thing to explode after I anxiously, yet successfully prepared a dinner. I’m scared. Because here’s the thing: I accidentally left the switches on “low,” and did not turn them to the “off” position until after everybody walked out the front door at eleven. How large, do you think, would the explosion be?
Oh, jeez. It was only the dishwasher.
Okay, back on track.
Schnoodle is currently “doing the laundry.” He can’t be seen from my seat at the dining room table, but he is certainly within earshot. What a noise! It’s disgusting, really. The slosh of his tongue and saliva against his… whatever it is he’s cleaning… is gross.
I feel like I’ve changed. And I’m wondering if it’s for the better. I notice lately that I am actually comfortable with who I am. I thought I was before, but I’m not sure that was entirely true, in hindsight. I notice I’m slightly more talkative in a crowd. More bold? Maybe not. I’m tired, I don’t know what I’m saying.
But also, I notice myself giving definitive answers when asked what it is that I want, or what it is that I like. I know myself pretty well by now, nearing nineteen years, and it feels nice, having something to show for it. The most important relationship I’ll ever have is the one with my own self, and you know, so far, we’re doing all right.
I thought about this earlier in my day, while texting back-and-forth with Divakar. He requested, “Tell me something you’ve never told me before. Anything. It can be small.” And so I gave him a list: ”I grit my teeth when I clip my nails. Bonfires are one of my favorite summer activities. I’ve decided that I love the springtime. The word ‘shine’ is sort of my life mantra. Sunflowers are my favorite flowers. I grew up on Star Wars, Tom Petty, Pink Floyd, the Eagles, the Boston Red Sox, dad’s burgers, mom’s sense of emotion, camping trips, sibling rivalry, and trips to Ocean City. My favorite desserts are Tiramisu, pie, or carrot cake. I count ice cream as a food group, so it’s not really considered a desert to me. I never considered registering to vote. One time, I took a drive, and parked in my mom’s apartment complex, but in another lot that faced Boston. I cried until I threw up, and I don’t even remember why. I have a weakness for old cars. I love learning about them, looking at them, knowing what they’re made of and how they work, who owned them. I really want to work in an old book shop where there’s dust everywhere, and an old man to run it. When I was younger, I wanted to be a surgeon. My eyes change color according to mood and location. I love big fields of grass. I miss my great grandmother’s house. I remember almost every detail, which is odd, because I haven’t been there since I was six or seven. My great grandfather taught me how to play checkers. He used to play me songs on the ukulele, too.”
Several facts. Memories. I don’t know why I feel like I can tell Divakar these things all the time. He asks, and listens, and gives me pieces of his life in return. He’s in love with me. Which is heartbreaking. Because I’m not in love with him. I tell him, “You’re such a brother to me.” I wonder if it hurts him, ever. If it does, he doesn’t let it show. It’s selfish of me, you know, to keep him around. But I care for him as a close friend. He is someone I can trust. Decisions.
Green tea is so good, in all respects. Even if you’re not a tea drinker, give it a try. It’s healing. I’d love to be like tea, and heal whoever took me in.
I’ve begun watching Mad Men again, in between work, summer online courses, and meals. Notice that sleep is not included in that list. Thanks, Netflix. Seriously!
Today, I woke up in my apartment and saw only Brianna. I expected my family to be home; they’d been traveling all night by car from Hilton Head Island, and their expected time of arrival was five o’clock in the morning. But they ended up coming in just after Brianna left, around eight-thirty. Mom and Chris went straight to bed. Erin, who’d slept through the car ride, was hungry for breakfast. So I took her to Bagel World.
The second we found a parking spot, I looked to the door of Bagel World to find a familiar face, one I hadn’t seen for years. Mr. Matthew Paquette peered through the glass door. He’d seen me.
I had to sit there a minute, and think twice: was it really him? Sophomore year memories swelled up and pushed their way through my mind. I got out of the car, and walked into the building.
Like the idiot I am, I followed the unstoppable urge to point excitedly at him and smile. ”Hey!”
He gave a two-fingered wave, a smile, and a wink. ”How’re you?”
“I’m good, and you?”
“Good!”
“I finished my Freshman year of college.”
Laughs. “Good!”
“Made it out alive, right?”
Laughs some more. ”Good, that’s very good!”
End of discussion.
He looked… unwell. Sad, maybe? I noticed the gray hairs, the gray scruff, the gray in his eyes. He’s changed in ways I’ll never know. I spent some time after I left Bagel World thinking about our encounter. It felt unnatural. What’s more is that, despite how essential he was to my development, academically and otherwise, our sporadic run-ins and chats, quite like this one, will never stretch beyond awkward laughter, small talk, and fillers.
I suppose that’s how it is with anyone we get to know for a year, keeping in mind that after three hundred or so days, should we ever meet again, it will be solely due to fate. The conversation will be deliberately impersonal. And in retrospect, we may wish fate hadn’t allowed us the obligation to interact. Because that’s what it feels like, most times: an obligation. If given the choice — if I hadn’t made eye contact with or seen Mr. Paquette — he probably would have placed his order, collected his bagels, and walked out without a word. He would not have chosen to tap me on the shoulder, or call out. And that is entirely not a reflection on his character. It just… is.
Maybe I’m better off not making these assumptions. But then, maybe I’m right. Blame professionalism if you must! Nonetheless, consider your own experiences with past teachers. Past roommates. Past “friends.” If you are currently in college, imagine how you would treat a similar scenario with a former hallmate: someone you knew well for the time you were together, and from whom you drifted after the fact. You would chat, yeah. But you would never again have the chance to make deeper conversation, unless, by some crazy chance, the opportunity arose. And if it did, would you take advantage of it? Would you go out of your way to create the opportunity yourself?
Just a thought. The people in our lives are here for a reason. They leave for a reason. They return for a reason. I’m just curious as to what these reasons are, and if, by some luck, reasons will bring me back some more old faces in the future. I tend to hope so.
