Hearts and Thoughts

"I don't see her ever completely going away," the psychic tells me, concerning Billy.

My name is still on Billy's bank account.  The only way to remove it is for us to close the account and for her to open a new account on her own.  She usually has less than a $100 to her name. I have not pushed for her to start the process until recently.  Before, the switch would just complicate her already complicated life but I have come to realize there will probably never be a good time. It has been five months since the last time I saw her. Sunday we set up plans to meet.

Billy:  So I got my payments switched over.  So how about Thursday we go to the bank then grab something to eat?

Bathwater: Yes, Thursday works for me.  Everything okay?

Billy:  Yeah you?

Bathwater: I am getting by.  Sometimes I am not sure where I am headed, though.

Billy:  It's okay not to be sure.  We will talk more later this week.  Feel free to call me whenever.

Bathwater:  I am looking forward to seeing you.

Billy: I am too.

We received several inches of snow throughout Wednesday. When Thursday finally arrived, the temperature dropped, and the wind picked up, making the roads icy and being outside unpleasant.  I picked out a dark blue shirt and black pants for work.  I wanted to look good for our meeting.  I am not sure what it would achieve or whether Billy was thinking about how she would look or whether she was as nervous about meeting as me.

We meet up outside a branch of her bank.  Billy came straight from work.  She wore a heavily stained khaki-colored Carhartt jacket and pants.  Clothes bought for her by me over a year ago.  She is still thin.

We hugged each other before hurrying into the bank to get out of the cold.  A female employee greeted us and had us take a seat when we told her that we were there to close an account.  We shared pictures while we waited.  I showed Billy a picture of my youngest new bald head.  He shaved it last week after a home haircut went wrong.  Billy showed me a picture of her bruised and bleeding thumb that she had hit with a hammer earlier in the day.

"Gosh, Billy, your hands look terrible,"  I remarked.  Her hands were dry and calloused.  The hands of a construction worker.

"I know.  I have to start wearing gloves."

"I have been telling you that forever!"

Closing the account went effortlessly.  Billy and I continued to catch up while the woman worked.  Our conversation comes easy, two friends falling into familiar patterns.  She tells me the latest on her job, and I fill her in on dealing with my dad's estate.  We pick a restaurant across from the bank, and once we order food, we continue to talk.

Billy's face is thin and prematurely aging.  She does not smile while we are together, but occasionally I catch a glimmer of the playful, lively girl I knew.  Often during the meal, I pause mid-sentence to compose myself and hold back tears.  Billy was holding back tears of her own.

"I have gone out a few times," I say.  "But it doesn't go anywhere.  I still compare..."  My words trail off. 

Billy frowns.  "You always were picky."

She tells me it is okay not to know where you are headed.  She reminds me she doesn't know where she is headed.  I encourage her to find a doctor and just surrender to the process.  "It is time for you to think about yourself.  Just like it is time now for me to think about me."

"We should talk on the phone once a week," she tells me.

"I don't think your boyfriend would appreciate that."

"It doesn't matter.  He is young.  He doesn't understand."

"No, you are right," I reply, more animated than I intended.  "He will never know what we went through together.  He will never understand what it was like."

"Our time together was some of the best and the worst in my life," I tell her, rocking my hand back and forth to illustrate my point.  "They were never ordinary." 

Billy understands.  The same is true for her, after all.  We lived on the edge, one step away from death or ruin, straddling ecstasy and pain until we cocooned ourselves together so deeply that we never saw what we were missing. Only my oldest readers remember those days.

Billy comes around to my side of the booth and holds me tight.  We are both crying now.  "I still love you as a person," she says. "I want you to be happy."

"I care about you too, Billy.  I am always here for you."

She talks about hanging out together again.  I know she needs a friend.  Someone who understands her.  Someone who is there for her.  I am not sure that can be me.  Not yet.

I do hope she gets better, but she tells me she has to stop at the ATM after she leaves, and I know, without asking, she will be heading into the city to buy her drugs after we say goodbye.  While I will go home and write this post and remember the girl she used to be.

I can't get my feet up off the edge
I kinda like the little rush you get
When you're standing close to death
Like when you're driving me crazy

Hold on as we crash into the earth
A bit of pain will help us suffer when you're hurt
For real, 'cause you were driving me crazy...

I can't find the best in all of this
But I'm always looking out for you
'Cause you're the one I miss
And it's driving me crazy, After Midnight, Blink 182

Confidence

"What you need to do is build up your confidence.  I just don't see yet...anybody good coming in (to your life) yet." The psychic said, finishing our session.

Confidence-

• a feeling of self-assurance arising from one's appreciation of one's own abilities or qualities

 It is easier to attract the bad ones.  I am attempting to at least temporarily, replace The Gymnast, . However, the quality of girls I meet is declining.  I met with Maddy Sunday.  She is another girl looking for a mutually beneficial relationship.  Another girl from a broken home without a stable father figure.  She is twenty-three, heavier than I like, and less refined but I am hoping she will not be needed once the Gymnast returns.

Searching for someone to take care of my needs is frustrating.  Whether it is finding someone for a potential relationship or finding someone for the night.  I don't get laid if I am not constantly on the lookout and I still like having sex.

I give Maddy a tour of my condo before we settle on the couch in the living room. Maddy is wearing a worn purple tie-dyed pullover hoodie and black leggings.  Her long curly blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail.  I turn on the big screen over the fireplace but our conversation keeps us from getting drawn into any shows.  She is short on time.  Part of me doesn't mind that.  There is little for us to do even though the February weather is mild and I am not that into her.

After a while, we head upstairs, undress, and get under the covers.  She says my body is warm, usually, it is the girl that is warmer than me.  I ask her if she is okay.  "Heck yeah," she says.  "You are hot."  All the yoga, weight training, and other exercises are good for something.  I thank her for the compliment without giving her one in return.  I find her average and I am not big on false flattery.

It is our first time having sex.  I don't pull out the toys or throw her into multiple positions.  I take it slow and see what she is like.  She gets excited quickly during foreplay, it gets me aroused and I enter her.  She cums once and I cum also a few minutes later.

After, we are lying in bed. She says, "You have a large dick." 

"Really?  I have not had any complaints but I think of myself as average." I reply.

She disagrees.

The Gymnast enjoyed sex with me too.  Both girls are more than half my age, that alone should be a confidence booster.  Still, they do not take the place of a meaningful relationship.  Billy didn't care about my physical appearance or my bedroom prows. She was there for me.

Somehow I need to translate the confidence these encounters give me towards meeting someone age-appropriate.  Someone I find interesting and attractive.  I have not figured that out yet.  On paper, as they say, I am mediocre.  In person, I am a cut above.  I need to remember that.

Psychic Mumbo-Jumbo

Six months ago I went to see a psychic.  Since then everything she told me came to pass.  In addition she described Billy perfectly as being an addict without me ever mentioning it.  Here are few things she said.

Concerning Billy:  She has money issues and they won't stop anytime soon.  (Last time I checked Billy had $12 in her bank account).

I see doctors involved with her. (Billy never goes to the doctor but had the abortion in January).

I don't see this relationship ending any time soon (Billy and the new guy).  Emotionally protect your heart. 

Your father's health is fragile (she went on to describe congestive heart failure) and you will be the one taking care of him.

She also described my trip to China as being something I do occasionally and that I would be stay on the water.  It was a city and hotel I have never been to before and it was on the water.


Monday I went to see her again.  She did not have any good news for me. She said, Billy will continue being Billy.  The new boyfriend is not clean.  He does not do heroin but he will take the occasional pain pill and not think anything of it (obviously he does not understand her addiction).

Is there someone coming into my life anytime soon?  I don't see anyone good.

She said Billy and I will continue talking (Billy wants to go to dinner next week) and that she doesn't see her completely going away.

I feel like I am doing the right things for the wrong reasons.  I am doing yoga and just started with a personnel trainer and there is book club.  I don't enjoy these things the way I should.  I don't want to go backwards and I don't see where I am going.  I am supposed to be experiencing the present.  The present is lonely.

Yoga at the DIA

I parked the Jeep on the street outside the DIA (Detroit Institute of Arts).  It is Saturday morning.  I am dressed lightly, totally unprepared for the twenty degree temperatures and the arctic wind.  They have a new fancy way of paying for parking using a kiosk along the curb but the damn thing was not taking my credit card.  Luckily Tinkerbell, her boyfriend and the T-Rex arrived at the same time and were parked a few spaces away.  Tink's boyfriend put his card in the kiosk for me.

"Why do we have to go all the way downtown to do yoga?"  I ask Tinkerbell a few days earlier.  "Have you even done yoga before?  My yoga studio is much more convenient."

She as assured me that it would be more fun doing yoga in the great hall in the art gallery.  I had my doubts.  The T-Rex was even less enthusiastic.  It is a good way to get people down to the art gallery but in February?  The non-profit who organizes the events does a good job.  They are a mobile studio and they organize events in various locations around the city.  It is a great way to introduce a different crowd to these locations and give access to yoga to a different crowd.

That's me stretching my arms in the center

Massage Story

I reached out to Rose Monday.

Me: You want to hang out sometime?

Rose: Yes, please.

Me: Do you have anything in mind, or would you like to just hang out?

Rose: Want to get a couples massage with me?

Me:  Yesss! That sounds like a perfect idea.

I made some last-minute calls and scheduled a couples massage for the next day, two days before Valentine's day. Most places were booked. I scheduled time at a place neither of us was familiar with.

It is a small place located in a strip mall. The waiting area is decorated in dark, peaceful colors. Four or five chairs fight for space with a silver reception desk. To the left of the desk, a brown curtain divides the front from the back area. The back area consisted of five small rooms.

When I arrived, the receptionist handed me a three-page questionnaire to complete. Rose showed up on time. I give her a quick hug when she enters. She smells strongly of weed. She receives her own questionnaire and finishes it just in time for us to head to the back. Two masseuses lead us back to the farthest room, where two massage tables were strategically positioned diagonally opposite each other.

Rose's masseuse is a tall male in his mid-thirties with a shaved head. He is dressed in pants and a tee shirt. My masseuse is a pale young female in a hoodie. They leave us a moment to undress and get under the covers.

Though we are not a couple, Rose and I are comfortable getting undressed in front of each other. She is wearing a midriff-baring tee shirt over leggings.

"Don't judge me," she says while we get out of our clothes. "I didn't have any underwear on, so I had to grab a pair out of my gym bag and stuff them in my pocket."  I just shake my head.

I don't stare at her while she undresses, not that she would mind. I do catch a few glimpses. Her body is perfect. She fell on an ice patch and has been away from the gym for a few weeks. It has only improved her figure, giving it a softness the weight lifting takes away.

Rose enjoyed her massage. "I almost fell asleep," she tells me.

My masseuse had the boniest fingers I have ever felt, and I like skinny girls. She dug her spikes into me, creating pains where there were none before. When she got to my left shoulder, I had to tell her to back off. I did not enjoy it at all. I would say it was the worst massage I have had. Every time she started a back and forth motion, the table would wobble.

The good thing is they were not expensive. I have paid more for one massage than both cost me. After, we went to a Qdoba-style eatery and caught up. I updated Rose about dad's death and the latest with Billie. We talked about Rose's younger sister, who is about to have a baby.

After the quick meal, we sit in the Jeep and continue our conversation. Rose says she wants to hang out more. I am unsure if she wants to hang out as friends or something more mutually beneficial. It is hard to tell with her. She is never straightforward, and I don't ask.

I like Rose. She is mindful and socially responsible, but she thinks differently than most people. I want to say she is a sociopath (she denies this) or perhaps just emotionally damaged. She has a fondness for me, rooted in my positive impact on her years ago when we met in the strip club.

 "I will never forget what you said to me once,"  She says, then recites back words I said to her long ago. "Rose, your life is a book full of blank pages. You write what you want the story to be."

First

Flying like a cannonball, falling to the earth
Heavy as a feather when you hit the dirt
How am I the lucky one
I do not deserve to wait around forever when you were there first
First, Cold War Kids

Billy texted me this morning.   She was pulled over by the cops Monday and went to jail.  Billy has warrants on her from past drug offenses.  She she skipped out on probation.  It has been six years. She did not have any drugs on her Monday, that in itself is surprising, and I paid off all her court cost and fines back in December (over $3000) so the judge let her go and closed out her case.

She got very lucky.  She would be in jail today if not for me.  She texted me to thanked me.  She no longer has these warrants hanging over her head.  She no longer has to worry about going to jail if she gets pulled over for a traffic ticket or gets involved in a car accident.

I am happy for her.  I think the things happening to her now could give her that push she needs to get clean.  I just wish I felt happy.  The news today has tipped me backwards.  It made me sad.  Like breakdown in tears sad.  Years ago I would be on anti-depressants, attempting suicide or in the mental hospital about now.  I am stronger in that respect.  Just not much.

I paid those fines and so many other things for her so we could have a life together.  Not so she could have a life with someone else. From the outside, her life is moving forward and things are only getting better for her.  I don't see the struggles.  When will mine?  Will my time come?  I do want her to succeed. I want her to get clean and be happy.  I just always wanted it to be with me.  Maybe I no longer want to be a part of her struggles to get clean.  Maybe my part is over.  

I have been saying, everything is happening for a reason.  Is that the truth or a cop-out to explain away the bad.  I don't know anymore.

See What I Want You To See

My tea's gone cold, I wondering why I got out of bed at all
The morning rain clouds up my window, and I can't see at all
And even if I could it'd all be grey..
Thank You, Dido

You hear what you want to when you lesson to a song.  Guess I relate more to the thunder and rain behind the lyrics in the Eminem sampling on his song Stan. 

I am smiling on the outside but on the inside I am sad.  My father's death and my conversations with Billy have left me frantically looking for some human contact.  I still want to avoid working on myself and spend too much time seeking a distraction.  I am constantly struggling with how I see myself and how the world see me.  It doesn't sink in that neither is who I am.  

I am wasting too much time on this pursuit and neglecting things I need to be focusing on like work.  The only thing I have managed to keep up on is my exercise though it is hard to get out of bed. I am only partially doing the exercising for my health.  In part, I am still creating this image of myself I want to the world to see, as if I can control how others see me. 

I have to cut this short.  I am neglecting work.