Sunday, May 11, 2008

American Things

It was nearing the end of lunch break. I took a half slice of bread from a bag, smeared peanut butter on it with a knife. As an afterthough, I took a little piece of lemon cake from a sample bowl and put it on top, for the sweetness. I turned away from the counter to sit back down. “AHHH!” screamed the 19-year old cafĂ© manager “what are you doing, that’s yuck!” The others stood up to get a look, make faces, and generally be horrified. I shrugged. “That’s so weird” said a co-worker. “It’s no worse than fairy bread” I said. “Must be an American thing. Fairy bread is normal” the 19-year old mocked, looking to the others for a laugh. My face failed to hide distain, “Butter and sprinkles on white bread is normal?”

The topic was cars. My fellow bakers lamented the jobs lost in factories due to outsourcing in other countries and that there was no choice but to buy foreign. “What kind of car are you looking at, Wren?” asked our boss. “I’m not sure” she paused “but not American. I’d never buy American.” I didn’t look up from my task, since she was baiting me. “I’d NEVER buy American” she said again. No response. “Never American!” she shouted triumphantly.

As it was the end of the day, we each were cleaning up, ready to go home. I was busy scraping the floor while simultaneously chatting with Tina, a fellow baker. “That’s a strange way to scrape the floor” she commented “must be an American thing”. I looked up and saw her grin. She was joking but so what. “The next person that comments about America is getting their face scraped.” I held up the scraper, helpfully “It’s going to be like ‘Son of a Witch’”. Tina grinned wider “Son of a witch? What’s that?”. “It’s a book, based on the Wizard of Oz.” She frowned “Must be an American thing.”

Sunday, May 04, 2008

Tiny Beads

He jabbed his finger at his wrist, pointing to a small beaded bracelet. "It's a fucking lie, isn't it?"
He pointed to the white bead "that's not me" then to a red "that's not you" then to a green one "and that's not Maine, and it never was." he laughed caustically "it's always been a lie"

I sat on the bed, cowed by how awfully close to the truth he was. Not that I'd tell him. Not that he'd really know. I hadn't wanted to mess things up like this. I'd known before that it was probably a bad idea to get deeper into a relationship with someone who clearly had a lot on his mind. His plate was full, but maybe I thought I could help clear it...maybe I really did, but more likely all I did was give second helpings with gravy. I thought I knew what I was doing, was never afraid or uncertain further than a shallow level. Not even when I thought I was pregnant.

That problem had weighed realistically in my heart in a way I'd never felt but at that age there wasn't a choice that seemed plausible. I knew what I'd do and I'd do it more or less as in a dream. Watching without really taking in that it was happening to me.
I wasn't pregnant, but after that things broke down worse than ever. We'd never had a future anyway, there was so much fighting. His jealousy, my selfishness. I knew what was needed when I needed it, acting out the part when I knew he needed me. I'd gotten used to dis-attaching from emotion-can't get in too deep with someone so emotional. Someone has to be the clear head, the calm one, the rational one. That kind of distance doesn't lend itself to deep love, and I did want to love him. All of them.

I guess it was an experiment. A wait-and-see. Maybe I would fall in love this time, probably I wouldn't. The rush was there and it was real. Didn't last.
So he finally figured it out and from the look in his eyes I'd say he's angry but not that surprised.
"This is bullshit" he yells. I formulate a rebound argument, one that'll shut him up, make him at fault. It's a good one: calm, rational and there's nothing he can argue against. I still sit on the bed, arms wrapped around my legs, mouth shut now that that word of right is out. He stands watching me for a beat, then he yanks at the bracelet, which breaks easily and tiny beads spray around the floor. He catches my eye and I recognize this as a good time to shut up. There's nothing real to say anyway. He's right and I won't admit to anything. He'll leave and I'll move out having never seen the red or white or green beads again. Not that I'd looked.

Thursday, May 01, 2008

"Hey, it looks like it's a girls-only day."
"Ohhh now we can talk about girly stuff!"
"Ah yeah, what's your boyfriend like in the sack?"
"What color are your nipples?"
"Do you wear a bra? I wear a bra."