How's It Go Again?

Hello, hello, I'm not where I'm supposed to be
I hope that you're missing me, 'cause it makes me feel young

Billy called me yesterday after work. We talked for twenty minutes. I did the majority of the talking, she was reluctant to discuss anything concerning her relationship, and I didn't offer any details concerning anyone I've been sleeping with.

We discussed family and the kids. I told her Max is still planning on moving to Marquette in the fall to attend Northern Michigan. She said her mother dealt with the side effects of Covid for six months.  We discussed the text messages I received. She didn't come up with any theories.

Won't you help me sober up?
Growing up, it made me numb, and I wanna feel something again

I don't think there is any trouble in her paradise. I do think she struggles. I imagine work and finances are stressful. Towards the end of the conversation, I broached the subject she avoided. "How is your health? did you ever get on Suboxone?" I asked.

"No," she replied and was reluctant to elaborate further.

"That's too bad."

"Goodbye, goodbye," I said to my bestest buds.
We said that we'd keep in touch, and we did our best.

Something is lacking when we communicate. I cannot articulate what it is. There is a wall between us. Yet, we cannot completely turn away. It feels wrong too. For her, it is probably due to guilt. For me, it is a longing for what I once had.

My favorite color is you. Can I finally feel something again

How's it go again?... Sober Up, AJR

Weird Text

 I received a text today from an unknown number.

Them: Hey.

Bathwater: Hello, who is this?

Them: Billie

Bathwater: New number? How have you been?

Them: I've been good wbu

Bathwater: I've been good. 

Bathwater: Everything okay?

I tried sending her an image of the cat at this point, and it didn't go through. It seemed weird. I sent the exchange to Tinkerbell, saying, "I got a text from Billie. Then she disappeared."

Tinkerbell: I don't think it is her. It could be the boyfriend seeing if you two still talk to each other. She might be messing around on him, and he wants to find out who. 

It started me thinking she could be right. Billie's name is not that common and is spelled uniquely. 

Tinkerbell gave me a laundry list of her suspicions and suggested I either call the new number or the old one. I decided to try Billie's old number. She answered right away.

"Hey, I got a text from someone on a new number today, claiming to be you."

"That's weird. It wasn't me," Billie replied.

"Well, it seemed unusual, so I thought I'd give this number a call."

Billie seemed perplexed by it too. at least she didn't allude to anything. "Hey, I'd really like to catch up with you, but I am in traffic now. Can I call you back later tonight? Or later this week?"

"Sure, I love to catch up."

I'm sure you can imagine the million different thoughts running through my head right now.

Fire House

I must admit, I did a lot of laying around and eating this weekend. Saturday, I learned my friend Sam's dad passed away Monday. She texted me an image of a chrome cigarette lighter with the Traffic Light logo, an ancient strip club in the area. Sam told me she found it while cleaning out her dad's house, and that is when she told me of his passing.

I met up with Sam on Sunday evening at the Firehouse, a bar in Mt. Clemens. It is what the name implies. A converted fire station that was turned into a bar. It is also coincidentally only two miles away from the Traffic Light if that bar survived the past year. I'd never been to the Firehouse before (or the Traffic Light, for that matter). I sat at the bar close to the entrance, so I did not take in much of the room, but there did not seem to be much of the old fire station or its memorabilia remaining.

Sam ordered an appetizer and ate. I drank a few beers and listened to the details of her father's death. It has been a while since we've gone out together to eat. The conversation is somber. We are facing our own diminishing years. It is unlikely I will see a grandchild become an adult. Max is twenty-two. Hopefully, he is still years away from having children of his own. 

I don't want to get old, I mean really old. My father was eighty when he passed away. I like to think I am in better health than he was at my age, but eighty is still too long. 

I think Sam is feeling lost. For the past several years, Taking care of her parents has consumed much of her free time. Now she will have more time for herself, and she doesn't know what to do with it. I can relate to that. Enjoy the moments. That is all we can do.

Asshole

 For those wondering what happened to Firefly, she was here for a few days last week.  She was in terrible shape when she got here- sleep-deprived and tweaking. She said she just needed a couple days to make a plan. She never came up with a plan.

She likes staying here but doesn't put any effort into securing the living arrangement. Once she started feeling better, she wanted to leave. It started an argument. She wanted to see the old boyfriend. The one she was doing meth with back in January when she wrecked her car. The one who is only 4 months clean (he thinks it has been six months) and has plenty of legal issues from that period. I told her to take all her stuff with her, and she did. 

The boy's family and friends do not want him seeing Firefly. Firefly accused me of getting in touch with his mom. I haven't. I don't care. I told her I was glad she was with him, now she is his problem. I did warn him the night of the argument. I told him he was wasting his time and that he was just one of many.

He is just a convenient tool for her to cling to because she doesn't have anyone else. "You say everyone gives up on you," I said. "At some point, you should look at yourself as the issue. You are an asshole."

Saturday

Firefly: I've been sober this whole time (four days), and I'm happier than ever.

Bathwater: Good for you. Now leave me alone.

Firefly: Glady. Good luck finding a new me.

Bathwater: Why would I want to find that?

A Conversation on Bumble

 A fifty-three-year-old woman messaged me on Bumble this week. Her profile says she is a widow. Her husband died four years ago. She enjoys college football, concerts, plays, travel, and hanging out at home with someone special.

Though she is three years younger than me, she looks older, and my photos are not filtered like hers. She is not an ideal match, but I go along with the conversation and give it a chance for the sake of being open-minded.

Katie: Hi, how's it going.

Bathwater: Hey, I'm good. Are you enjoying the snow?  :) I was hoping it would be 75 soon.

Katie: Good morning. Not at all! I was hoping to be lying in the sun soon.

Bathwater: I know! I get my second vaccine shot today. I was hoping to be all set and ready for summer.

Katie: I had my second one on April 13th.

Bathwater: So what are you looking to do this summer?

Katie: Everything! I'm hoping concerts and sporting events will be open.

(I read this as she needs to be entertained.)

Bathwater: It would be nice to see a concert again. I am looking forward to getting out on my bicycle. That is only weather-dependent, so it should happen soon.

Katie: Nice

(At this point, her answers get short. Not a good way to spark interest.)

Her profile says she works as an office manager at a dental office. So I say.

Bathwater: So you must be working in the office full time now. We haven't started doing that at my office yet. I'm not looking forward to going back to the commute. There is no point.

Katie: No, I am retired.

(I am thinking, 'At fifty-three? the husband must have left you a nice pension and life insurance policy.')

Bathwater: What do you do now that you have free time?

Katie: Anything I want.

(I take this to mean--nothing at all. She needs to be entertained. This conversation is just another source of entertainment for her, and I have lost interest.)

Bathwater: I am not ready to retire, but last year, I managed to take a 24-day road trip across the southwest. We visited several national parks. I wrote and published a novel and put in about 400 miles on my bike despite Covid.

Katie: Nice.

That is where I am leaving it. There is no point. I don't find her the least bit entertaining or unique.

Shots, Shots, Shots,

 It snowed Tuesday night. Just enough to cover the lawn. The temperature will only hit the low forties today. We won't see seventy until next Tuesday. I've been struggling with my weight these last two months. Seems like the more I workout, the more I want to eat. Hopefully, summer will stop that.

I jumped into the truck and headed to the county health building. I watched melting snow dripping from the truck in front of me at a traffic light.  This is April in Michigan. Unlike my first shot, there were no lines. My forward progress was as fast as I could walk. One of the volunteers suggested they were busy. It was just the time of day, around noon, that was a lull. I think things are slowing down.

People like Firefly are not getting the vaccine, claiming medical issues. I believe there are a lot of people with medical issues. Must are self-induced. On the radio, they were talking about a pill to cure obesity being developed in Australia. That would only create a bunch of unhealthy skinny people.

Honey-do

 My friends Alexis and Sam live together with Alexis' mother and teenage son.  Both are divorced women in their early fifties. I went to their house on Sunday to help with a honey-do list Alexis had.  I installed a screen over the door wall that allows the dog to enter and replaced the existing doorbell with a Ring doorbell. Those went well without incident. 

She wanted me to replace a few drop ceiling tiles in the basement. Several had water stains on them. I've never dealt with drop ceiling tiles, but I knew how to cut and shape half tiles from when I researched them when considering doing the same in my basement.  I am glad I decided to paint the ceiling black instead. 

Four tiles need replacing. Only one was a complete tile. One required cutting a round opening for a light fixture, and two others were half pieces. The circular hole came out perfect, but one of the half pieces gave me trouble. It didn't want to lay flat for some reason, but Alexis was fine with the results. 

After I went and washed the Gladiator. I am anxious to take the doors and top off this summer. I can't wait for a few warm days! When it hits 75 degrees, I will be striping them off. The wench I used for taking the top off my silver Jeep is not in the best position for removing the top of the Gladiator because of the bed, but the Gladiator's top is smaller and lighter, so I think I can make it work. I am eager to see if I can make it work without moving it.

I am trying to increase my posts. I'd like to get up to fifteen per month, so these might sound a bit more mundane. The truth is, nothing of interest is happening right now. I suppose that is a good thing. 

I had Max take photos of some of my lego creations while he was here Saturday. He has the ability to replace the green screen background with pure black. I will post them once he gets them back to me. I used to do this myself, but I cannot load the software on my work computer. I need to break down and buy myself a new home computer. 

Saturday Walk

 T-Rex is still dating his girlfriend on my side of town. Saturday, Tinkerbell was driving him over to her house, and she gave me a call. "Hey, do you want to go for a walk?

I just stepped out of the shower after an hour on my bike downstairs. "Actually, yes, I need more exercise," I tell her.

She came over, and we walked the neighborhoods near me. The temperature was in the mid-fifties, but the sun was shining, and it made for a nice day. We chatted while we walked. Catching up on the latest news. Tinkerbell works at a workshop for disabled adults. She told me Covid is running through the classes. Her bosses are reluctant to tell the parents and guardians. The company needs the money. 

Tinkerbell teaches over zoom.  She is sequestered in her office all day and does not interact with the in-house classes. This is a good thing because she has not gotten her vaccination yet. She is afraid of needles.

Later, my son Max came over. We ordered carryout from The Detroit Wings Company. It has been ages since I've had boneless wings. 

Max has two 3D printers now.  He has printed tons of figures.  I suggest he make some money off of them, but he is not interested. Still, I am glad he is keeping up with technology.  He has not gotten his vaccine yet either. He is just dragging his feet. TheEx is an anti-vacer, but I don't think her thinking has rubbed off on him.  I get my second dose the Wednesday.  I am looking forward to it.

Friday

 Firefly laid around, healing, gaining weight, and being miserable for five days. I took her to a doctor's appointment. Her clothes remained packed in her car. I never offered for her to move back. We never discussed it.

Thursday night, she told me she was going out with a friend to eat. She showed me a set of text messages to collaborated the claim. They seemed contrived, and the ones before were deleted. I was against it but was not going to hold her against her will.

She wasn't out long, between two and three hours. If she did eat while she was out, it didn't make a dent in her appetite. She ate again when she returned home. Her persona changed upon her return. Firefly was restless and fidgety. She didn't fall to sleep. She tossed and turned and complained about nightmares. It indicated to me, she did something. 

Sometimes a lack of evidence is evidence. I search the few things she had in the spare bathroom. I found a half pack of dope or crack in a mostly empty make-up bag and flushed it. I didn't find a crack pipe. She would throw that fact back at me later.

Friday, I went to the office in the morning. "Don't go anywhere," I warned her before I left. 

"I'm tired," she complained. "I'm not going anywhere."

For being tired, she did very little sleeping. She was downstairs on the couch when I returned in the afternoon.  Firefly returned to the bedroom and watched TV but didn't fall asleep. She got up and took a shower around 5:00 p.m. It seemed like most of her actions revolved around avoiding me. "Are you going out?" I asked.

"I don't know. I am just taking a shower." 

Despite her words, it was obvious she intended to leave again. Later, she told me she was going to Applebees. "Take your stuff with you if you go out."

This started an argument. She maintained she did not do any drugs the previous night. I told her about the pack I found. It was not an empty pack. We argued over the situation. She insisted I've wanted her gone for weeks, and that was true. I never said she could move back. I feel bad when she has nowhere to go, but I feel like she doesn't make staying here a priority. She doesn't try to keep me happy, and she isn't pleasant to be around. The majority of the time is spent getting her clean.

She complains that everyone gets rid of her or that no one wants her. I thought to myself, if that is the case, at some point, you should be looking at yourself, but I don't say it to her. She tried playing on my sympathy. "I have no money for food and gas. I'm going to lose the weight I've gained."

"Firefly, you always have money." Indeed, some dude was always willing to give her money--whether for sex or for free. "You just choose to spend it on drugs."

She tries denying this, but we wouldn't be having this argument if it weren't true. This brings me back to my complaint. If living here was so important to her, she would make more effort to maintain the arrangement. She hasn't. This doesn't motivate me to continue putting up with her. 

She made sure to post images on her Instagram indicating she went back to the city to get high with the same dude she has been hanging around with lately. He doesn't have a car and uses her for rides to the city. he doesn't care about her health. Pictures displaying a false appearance of happiness.

I slept comfortably alone and enjoyed the peace.

 

 

Spring

I wrote the last blog post Friday morning. Later that evening, I went to my friend Jay's for a beer.  Firefly showed up at the house in bad shape. She smoked crack all day on no sleep. She was twitching and incapable of putting thoughts together. It took me a while to calm her down, including threatening to call the cops and have her committed.

It has been five days now, she hasn't left the house alone. I took her to the doctor's appointment yesterday for a refill on suboxone. She has not unpacked her things from her car, and I have not suggested that she should. 

She needs to gain weight and muscle. She needs to create a plan. I don't mind her sitting here watching TV and sleeping, but that is not a long-term fix. I will be going back to the office soon. I cannot watch her forever. She needs to watch herself.

Currently, I am working my way through editing Dave's book.  It is a good experience for me. Sometimes I fear I am heavy-handed, but I am not trying to be critical. I am editing it as if it were my own work while trying not to change his story.  

El Charros

 Yesterday, I made plans to have dinner with Firefly. The forecast called for rain, so I decided to make an appearance at the office before dinner. Why waste a nice day going into the office? There were few people there. I stuck around till about 4:00 and headed home.

On my drive, I received a text from Firefly. "Going to the city right now. Do you want to help me with money one last time because you love me oh so much?"

"No, I don't." She knows better than to ask but still does.

"Please, I am not going to be able to hold food down if I don't find money."

I tell her, "If you can't make dinner tonight, we can always reschedule. Just let me know."

"I'm coming," she replies, punctuated with a sarcastic eye-roll emoji.

We meet at El Charros. I arrived first and ordered us a table. Because of the situation, restaurants are only at half capacity, and you cannot wait inside for a seat. El Charros provided chairs spaced around the entrance for waiting customers. The rain had stopped, and the evening was still warm enough to sit outside, so we did. It didn't take too long, most restaurants are not busy.

Firefly wore a pair of high-waisted jean shorts that displayed her pale legs and a thin cream-colored long sleeve top. I wore jeans and a grey tee-shirt I'd picked up in Moab, Utah, during our road trip with an olive drab jacket.

"Your green jacket is in the truck," I told her. "You left it behind." The night was not cold, but it was damp and too chilly for her outfit. I retrieve her jacket for her.

She is thin but eats ravenously, declaring it is the first time she has eaten today. Food comes below money and drugs for an addict. Firefly tells me she is making plans, but she does not have anything solid yet. She wants to go back to a place she was in once before in California, but they won't take her if she is on Suboxone. She thinks she will detox her first then go there. She still has a lot of details to figure out.

By the time we finish eating, it has started to drizzle. We give each other a quick hug and a kiss in the parking lot and head our own ways. She is staying at a hotel nearby. 

Another Departure

 Firefly went out yesterday evening to get Suboxone. She returned later than expected with three, but it was evident right away she returned with other drugs. She stayed up late hiding in the bathroom complaining about stomach issues, but I wasn't buying it.

"You've been in there for an hour and a half,  don't try telling me you aren't smoking crack," I text her.

"I'm on the toilet," she replies.

"Yes, smoking crack. I told you not to go out. That would have solved all your problems."

I went to bed. There was no use arguing with her in the middle of the night. When I woke at 4:30 in the morning, she was not next to me. She was downstairs. 

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"I'm sitting downstairs. I want to take a bath. They say baths help with digestion issues." 

I went over to the spare bathroom and looked into her robe pockets while she was downstairs. The cigarette lighter in one pocket yesterday was missing, and the green cord she uses to tie off had returned.

I ask her, "the green cord is back; does that mean you are shooting up too?" There was no doubt she was smoking crack.

"Don't worry about it. I'll leave after I take a bath and hopefully go to the bathroom."

While I was exercising on my bike in the basement, she packed her things. Firefly descended the basement stairs wearing jeans, a black cami that exposed her midriff, and a beige thigh-length sweater. I was playing a game on my phone while pedaling. Her sudden presence startled me. She had done her make-up. She looked good but a little thin. Though, I know the long sleeves of her sweater were covering bruised arms and fresh needle marks.

Firefly asked me to help her load her belongings into her car, and I did. We said a quick good through the car window. "I hope you find what you need," told her.

She pulled out of the garage. I motioned for her to hand me the garage door opener on her visor. Firefly rolled down the window and handed me the small plastic opener. I squeezed her hand a few moments, then she was gone.

Later, strolling through the house, cleaning counters, and taking inventory of what she left behind, I found myself feeling as if I had failed too. The house feels quiet and empty now. It is just my perception of the surroundings, but it is a reflection of how I feel inside. 

Authors

 I just realized one of my favorite authors, Glen Cook, is seventy-seven. His last book, Port of Shadows, is one of the worst in the Black Company series. I doubt he will write any more books. My favorite author, David Gemmell, died in 2006. There are no other authors I have enjoyed more. There have been a few other authors over the years that I have cherished but non come close to these two.

I have decided to start writing something new. I put my fantasy novel aside to write something that takes place in the current times.  I feel it would be easier to blend nonfiction experiences into a fictional tale.

Firefly is here holding on by a thread. On Easter, she wanted to leave. I told her she could do what she wanted, but it would be with all of her belongings if she left. I was not bluffing. She started packing to see how far I would take the charade. I helped, placing all her shoes in a bag by the door. She declined to pursue the idea and went back to bed.

She is trying but has several things against her. The intensive outpatient therapy is not open right now because of Covid, she is out of Suboxone, and her next doctor's appointment is not till Thursday. I am willing to help her develop a routine, but it is up to her to take it seriously. That is asking a lot. 

Splitting Hairs

 I went over to Alexis's house to get my hair cut last night. She complained about not being able to get signed up for a vaccine. I don't think she tried very hard. In my area, anyone that wants the vaccine can get an appointment. She texted me this morning at 6:30. "I got an appointment at Walmart on Monday. Fuck the health department website.

I got a call from Firefly while I was with Alexis. "Is my Suboxone at home?"

"Yes, it is in the top drawer of the dresser."

"I am on my way home."

"Okay, I am out getting my hair cut." I didn't ask any questions.

When I got home, she told me they were making her wait another 24 hours before giving her Suboxone. She absconded. Her rationale was she had Suboxone at home; why wait. She didn't consider that it is a holiday weekend, and she does not have enough suboxone to get through the four days. At best, it will be a long weekend for her.

Demons

When the days are cold and the cards all fold

And the saints we see are all made of gold
When your dreams all fail and the ones we hail
Are the worst of all and the blood's run stale

I want to hide the truth, I want to shelter you
But with the beast inside, there's nowhere we can hide
No matter what we breed, we still are made of greed
This is my kingdom come, this is my kingdom come... Demons, Imagine Dragons

My mind is fixated on the past--balancing on a fine line between hate and love. The love is masked as indifference, but that is just a lie I tell myself.  I am torturing myself, and I don't know how to break free.

When things are quiet, and let me be honest, they are quiet too often. I lash out at Billie in my thoughts. I can have a vicious tongue, even in thought. I need to let it go, but I don't see it happening anytime soon. It has been eighteen months now. I try reminding myself that things are not worse. They are just different without Billie. 

*     *     *

On another note, I received the first Phizer vaccine shot yesterday. I do not have any side effects today. The damage to my ceiling is minor, but I am taking Dave's advice and getting the ceiling replaced.  I'd do it myself, but the ceiling is 7.5 x 8.5, which means it would take three pieces of drywall and a lot more mudding than I feel like doing on a ceiling. I am currently getting the insurance company run around and will be totally frustrated before this is through.

I will probably decide it is easier to just do it myself in the end.