Bent Words

Bent Words

May 26, 2020

Mother Kim showed up to the bar when I went out to lunch with Sammy Cakes Jr. the other day. She was my first boss at Quad, the woman who hired me and the only reason I decided to try breastfeeding when, after three whopping months in the books, I turned up knocked up and in tears at her desk. I thanked for her for being so understanding.

She also took the Big Kid out of my arms one day when she was just a tiny baby.

Because I couldn’t handle things.

Any of the things.

“Go home, get your head straight and when you’re ready, we’ll drop her off.”

She already has FOUR bloody kiddos so this was a pretty big deal. It’s what made me start to seek out help. But never once have I looked back to say that maybe I should have STOPPED there and not procreated again. It’s hard to say sometimes because you can’t go back – what is done, is done – and I don’t want my children to think I regret them but what possessed a girl like me to think I could do three? I remember when the Big Kid went to daycare and had to write about her siblings and she was the only one without a sibling. I remember crying about that. I remember being told what a shame it would be for her to grow up an only child. Really, though? Would it have been such a shame?

I don’t think so.

But I didn’t know I was going to turn out to be such a fucking pussy about everything either.

I don’t know what happened there but I’m a giant wuss.

Sometimes I can fight to the death just to be right. But mostly I just want to be happy so I concede. If that’s how it went down – if I’m wrong – then so it must be. You’re right, I’m wrong, let’s move on with a modicum of wisdom on the subject and hope for better days to come. The fight is sort of fading.

APS back in the day. Fuckers in the service department lost a needle jet. I looked up the part but none were available to procure. I called Motosports Factory, the boys at RTT and a handful of others until I finally decided to march into the back room to proclaim my tenacity.

“Step aside – I’ll find it.”

“You’re not going to find it. It’s gone. The floor is a mess.”

“Shut up, MO.”

Two and a half hour later, I came up from the floor with knees alight with floor jimmies galore and a fucking needle jet in hand. I was SHAKING when I marched up to the Service Manager and handed it over. I was so proud of myself.

It didn’t take much to excite me (still doesn’t) but it doesn’t take much to overwhelm me either. I want this ONE THING in front of me to be good before I move to the next thing. I want to search the entire floor, pick up every last dust ball and turn over every last bolt. I want it to be right. If it’s lost, I’ll find it and if it’s broken, I’ll fix it.

When do you stop at nothing to find the thing you’ve been searching for?

When do you give up, give in, admit defeat and hand over the baby?

When do you know it’s over for certain?

I dubbed my good buddy and co-worker Mark the Shark. He’s delightful. Full of the worst amount of bullshit, mailing nonsense you’ve ever wanted to get put to sleep to but also up to the brim in bitching tales over a few beers and a couple of hours. I like Mark. He’s always a good time and we are really good drinking pals. He’s part of the usual suspects for every Brewer game, night out, liquid lunch and general debauchery we can find.

One night, after telling me a vague story of his open marriage and not always so happy home life, when I wasn’t drinking much anymore because I honestly was so interested in his stories I forgot to get another beer, he kissed me good bye on the lips.

Not like a “I want to kiss you until someone starts clapping” kiss or a “dip me over a knee” type of thing – just a nice little peck on the lips.

I let it be because I kept thinking that maybe that’s the most action he’s seen in a bit. And I wasn’t offended. It was just nice.

So this past weekend, when a few of us were supposed to get together and only three of the six showed up, I sent Mark the Shark a mean message stating that we were downgrading him to Mark the Minnow for bailing on us. He didn’t reply and in the morning, I felt sort of bad so I sent him another message.

“Still love you, Mark the Shark! Cannot wait to see you out and about again! ❤”

He said he really needed that.

I get it.

It was also a nice segue way into the topic of open marriage.

Come up to meet you
Tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are

I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart
Tell me your secrets
And ask me your questions
Oh let's go back to the start

Running in circles, coming up tails
Heads on a science apart
Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
Oh take me back to the start

I was just guessing at numbers and figures
Pulling your puzzles apart
Questions of science, science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart
Tell me you love me
Come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start

Running in circles, chasing our tails
Coming back as we are
Nobody said it was easy

Oh it's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be so hard

I'm going back to the start

Written at 6:15 p.m.