Sunday, February 20, 2011

The Weekend


"Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship."




It’s Sunday morning and I’m still separated from Mike. He took off and spent the weekend with his parents. I’m still at Lizbeth’s sparse apartment: just a couch, a bed and a kitchen table. I think there may be some edamame in the fridge.

Friday night, I called her weeping after the blow out at my apartment. She took me in and told me I could stay as long as I needed. She helped me get settled and then she promptly took off to some nightclub in Echo Park. I understand, she had plans and she was doing me a favor by letting me stay with her. Still, my life is crumbling right before my eyes and I really could use a little support and care and love. She tried to convince me that going out with her would make me feel better – be good for me.  I don’t think she quite understands that part of the reason I’m in trouble is because of my social life. Plus I certainly don’t deserve any rewards. How could I tell Mike later that the first thing I did was go drinking and dancing? I’m not here to celebrate my freedom. I’m here to wallow and punish myself.  Friday night I stayed in and cried. I slept on the floor actually because while I love Lizbeth, I didn’t want to cuddle with her in her twin sized bed and she had already promised the couch to a mutual friend. He apparently is also having some troubles with his living situation and they rolled in together at 4am, drunk and disorderly. They woke me up. I started to really miss my boyfriend. I miss my cozy bed. I miss how he’s quiet and in bed by 11pm, never to stumble in drunk and wake me up. If anyone is doing that in my apartment, it’s me.

I think it’s obvious to say I barely slept. I stopped pretending to sleep when the sun finally came up. I took the longest shower. I think I was attempting to sleep standing up. If I was going to be out of my apartment for a while and sleeping on the floor, I should work on that skill. I don’t know how, but somehow after trying to wash away all my sins, I pulled it together, put on makeup, put my work clothes on and went to go serve tables for brunch. I was glad actually; brunch people don’t judge you for looking puffy – they can’t see you anyway. They don’t take their sunglasses off to talk to you and they’re still drunk for the night before. Or stoned. (Them and me, both.) Being at work can be the saving grace for the emotionally distressed. All I have to do is make sure people get their eggs and coffee; nothing else to think about, nothing else to worry about for at least a few hours. Work is where I go to shut the world out. I was thankful that Travis wasn’t working. He had the Saturday night shift thank God. Just me and the cappuccinos this afternoon. And after work I went back to Lizbeth’s and called my mother, only to get the typical unimaginative response, "I'm sure you and Mike will figure things out." Thanks, Mom.

Lizbeth was at work, and then after she got off around 11pm shot me a text message saying she was going out again. Did I want to come? No. Fuck off. Call me old fashioned but the reason you call a friend for a place to stay, as opposed to going to a motel I suppose, is for some soothing girlfriend TLC. Maybe this was tough love? Maybe she was just being unaware – or selfish. Hard to tell with her. I think I’m starting to understand what it feels like to have someone choose booze over companionship. Maybe this “you’re either with me or you’re left behind” attitude that she’s dumping on me is how Mike feels every day.  This realization was a little much for me. I got baked to quell the tears.

Sometime around midnight, Anna called. She’s a mutual friend of mine and Travis’s and she works at the restaurant too. (More on her later.) She invited me out to Travis’s for the nightly night cap. I didn’t tell her about the fight, I didn’t tell her where I was, I didn’t even hesitate. The next thing I knew I was putting on shoes, grabbing my sack and heading out to the car. Well, I’m not going to wallow forever.

I actually spent the night there. I’m surprised no one asked me why I didn’t have to go home to Mike. Then again, who was going to ask? Travis? I doubt he wanted to risk reminding me to be responsible, because that would mean I would leave. Anna? She was stoned and passed out on the couch hours before I actually fell asleep. Travis and I sat up and talked for a long time. I’m not sure how but we got into a long conversation about our fathers and our families. I felt secure, comfortable, warm. Even though it was the last place on Earth I should've been, I’m glad I went there. It may be the last time I get to spend time with them. I already miss him. I'm starting to understand what I'm going to have to do. Maybe what I miss already is my freedom.

Today I worked brunch and then got cut early. The gang generally gets together around 4 o’clock when brunch is over but I think I’ve overdone it by spending the night there last night. Besides, Lizbeth is finally here and hanging out for a while. I think I can hear her opening a bottle of wine in the kitchen, and a neighbor is on the way to help us drink it. With any luck, I’ll be passed out from drunkenness by 4 o’clock. I could really use the sleep.