Re-launched, but still slightly under construction. :-)

Sunday, January 11, 2004

I'm free, to do what I want, any old tiiiiiimme

Previously, in Stacey's life (fade from black): Stacey was sick on Monday. Chris refused to help her, but promised to stop by on Tuesday. He didn't. Stacey decided to break up with him, based on his lack of caring when she was too sick to take care of herself. We rejoin the program on Wednesday of the same week...


So, I called Tuesday afternoon. I called twice on Wednesday. I called on Thursday morning, before he would have been scheduled to leave for work. No answer, no return phone calls. Finally, Thursday afternoon, I get him.

Chris: How are you feeling?
Me: Much better.
Chris: Good.
Silently, I think: Yeah, no thanks to you, butthead.
Chris: What's wrong?
Me: Well, I'm a little irritated with you.
Chris (scoffing): Why?
Me: Because I really needed help on Monday.
There is a moment of silence, and then:
Chris (loudly): If you're going to get all mad at me because you were sick, you know, I've been on the road a lot this week, and really tired so not feeling too good myself. I offered to take you to the hospital.
Me: I didn't need to go to the hospital. I just needed some stuff from the drugstore and help getting up.

Blah blah, conversation devolves into him yelling at me, as usual, and me saying repeatedly: "I would appreciate it if you would lower your voice. I don't appreciate you speaking to me like that. Stop talking to me like that. You have no right to speak to me like that." Until, finally, I get some balls and tell him that he treats me like shit.

Chris: Well, you treat me like crap sometimes, too.
Me: When? How?
Chris (laughing): Oh, please...
Me: You know what? Whatever. Don't talk to me. I need my hairdryer. I'll be there to get it in a little while.
Chris: Fine.
*Click*

I get to his house about 45 minutes later. He greets me at the door and walks into the living room. I walk into the bathroom, unplug my hairdryer, and note that he has all of my stuff in a plastic bag. I pause: Do I want to have it out with him, or just let it go? Do I have to have a big breakup scene, or can I just tell him goodbye and stop returning his calls?

I peek down the hall. He's obviously avoiding speaking to me, and I really don't care. I don't mean that in a defiant way. I mean, I really feel nothing about it. I pick up my bag 'o stuff and walk out the door. As I back out of the parking space, he steps out onto the porch and gestures, palms up, communicating confusion that I'm leaving. I don't care, in the aforementioned manner. I keep going.

I hope that's the last I see of him. But he'll probably call me tonight. Can I pretend that I'm not home? And, for how long? Will that work for more than a week? Long enough for him to get the message that I don't want to see him anymore?

0 comments :

Post a Comment