Far From the Tree
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Saturday, October 18, 2014
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
The bottom of the jewelry box
October 23, 199?
Memories
are like jewelry. The most precious we
keep carefully stored and only bring out on special occasions, but most are
costume pieces, things we carry with us daily and never give much thought
to. And then of course there are those
that we wish we could discard but can never bring ourselves to. These are the ‘painful pieces’ the ones kept
wrapped in gauze and safely tucked away at the bottom of our jewelry box. We rarely take these pieces out and when we
do it’s usually in private, reflective moments when we can slowly unwrap them
and look upon them unobserved.
I
found my first gray hair today, a startling moment in a woman’s life but not as
depressing as first discovering the tiny lines around ones eyes. Grow old with grace and dignity, that is my
goal, but do I want to grow old alone?
My children will develop their own lives, make their own homes, they
aren’t mine to keep forever, I have only been allowed to care for them until
they can care for themselves. Then
what? Lisa says no one wants to be
alone, but I’m not sure it matters, after all aren’t we all eternally alone
inside of ourselves anyway? No matter
how much you love someone you can’t
actually be a part of them. We all bear
this aching aloneness, as if we have lost our way home. Perhaps that is what life is all about,
perhaps it is a searching, a journey to find our way home again, back to the
place we were before we were born, back to the memories we lost at the moment
of birth.
So
now my therapy begins, but where do I start?
At the beginning? Or with
whatever comes to mind? There are so
many thoughts flickering inside of me as fireflies trapped inside a glass jar,
each crying, “Look at me!” So it seems
impossible to choose where to begin.
“Once
upon a time in a land far, far away there lived a little girl. She grew up knowing that she was Special and
that life held only good things for her.
But then one day the grotesque monster called Reality reared his ugly
head and proclaimed her his prisoner.
Sadly she discovered there are no keys to open the door to the magic
kingdom called life.
There’s
a saying that goes something like “a bad apple never falls far from the
tree.” When I was a young girl I hated
that saying, I wanted to fall far, far from the tree. And I truly believed I could, I believed if a
person only worked hard enough they could be anything they wanted to be. But being something or becoming something is
easy, like playing a part on a stage. I
have BEEN many things in my life - a mother, a waitress, a videographer, a good
little girl - but they ere all just roles, parts that I have played. But inside, nothing changed, I am still just
me, the person my genes and my environment programmed me to be, there is no
escape through BEING something.
To
truly change we must change what’s inside, or at least it’s affect on us. Because after all, if an apple fell into an
orange grove, it would still be an apple.
No matter how much it might admire the bright, fragrant oranges, it
would always be an apple. No matter what role I play nothing will change until I
first change the picture inside because I will always be what my reflexes guide
me to be, what my inner self see and has always seen, the child of an
alcoholic.
Children
of alcoholics often become alcoholics themselves or abusers of other
substances. They also tend to marry
alcoholics or other dependent personality types, seeking perhaps to cure the
parent they could not save. Others
become over achievers and workaholics, in an attempt to feel equal to their
peers for they see themselves as less, not as good as, beneath others. And still others live up to this low image of
themselves by not being able to hold a job or to deal with the stress of day to
day living, they drift aimlessly through life always looking for rescue. Even if they are never substance abusers
themselves, their own children are still prone to these same pitfalls, somehow
having inherited the alcoholic tendencies.
Escape from the cycle if very hard and abuse can often be traced back
for generation after generation after generation.
For
most of my life I have denied the existence of these scars and pretended that I
had escaped unscathed but I know that this isn’t true. After all, I married Billy. I know that the scars are with me and they
have dictated my steps even while I refused to acknowledge them. Now I must bring the shadows into the light,
examine them, analyze them, and find a way to get beyond the fear and the pain.
Journey
Windowpanes with fingerprints
Mar a perfect view.
Ashtrays with cigarettes,
Tell me what to do!
Time an endless carousel
Turning all the same.
Life, the soul’s carnival,
How’d you play this game?
Me, I’m just a poor dreamer,
Dream my life away.
Done with smoke and mirrors,
All illusions anyway.
The grass is always greener,
Flowers, never weeds.
My yard, it’s much meaner,
Flowers gone to seeds.
Whatever song is playing,
However old the tune.
Me, I’ll not be saying
Words to fit the mood.
Always out of sync and step,
Marching somehow wrong.
A path I haven’t found yet,
A heart that beats as strong.
But somehow I will find it,
Without map or clue.
And I’ll complete this journey
And give this life it’s due!!
Tess
slowly rose and stretched her arms over her head. Her back and shoulders still ached after the
long hours of taping and even the hot bath hadn’t helped much. Retrieving her journal she checked the fire
in the woodstove and headed down the hallway to her room, pausing first to look
in on Tressa as she slept.
Tressa
was fourteen going on twenty-five and she made Tess feel ancient. She had been so thrilled to have a daughter
but now she sometimes wondered if they would ever be close. Tressa had been independent and rebellious
even as a toddler, getting into more scrapes and mischief than either of the
boys had. She was still stubborn and
independent and everything became a battle between them, from the amount of
make up she wore to not being allowed to car date, she fought against every
rule.
Tess
gently smoothed the mass of dark brown curls from her face and bent to kiss her
cheek, something Tess didn’t allow when she was awake. She’d been premature and had spent several
weeks in an incubator when they weren’t allowed to hold her. Tess had often wondered if this absence of
physical contact had left her with her aversion to hugs and physical displays
of affection. Her daughter was a beauty
and she dreaded the next few years.
Holding her back was going to prove a real challenge.
Moving
on to the boys room she pulled the covers over Sammy, her youngest, and kissed
his freckled nose. Sammy was everyone’s
baby and even at his most mischievous he was the “good one.” He tried never to hurt her and to always be
pleasing. This desire to please probably
came from being youngest. She could
remember feeling the same way as a child, that she needed somehow to compensate
for the mistakes of her older siblings.
Chad,
her oldest was sixteen and at just over six feet tall he overflowed the bunk
beds that he and Sammy shared. In spite
of his size he was just an overgrown little boy to her. She worried about his future, he would be
seventeen in the spring but he still seemed unfocused and refused to discuss
college or education beyond high school.
He had worked at Pizza Hut for several months not and talked often of
becoming a manager but she couldn’t see a future in pizza so she worried. But maybe she was just pushing him to be
something instead of waiting to see who he already was.
Uncle
Grant had told her he just lacked motivation and together they had tried to
instill it in him. Grant ran the small
farm where her house sat, plus he owned an accounting business that provided a
range of clerical services to other businesses.
He was moderately successful and had tried to interest Chad in some
aspect of his business. Chad had been
amiable but had stated he preferred dealing with the public when they were
relaxed and not worried about the IRS, besides he found accounting boring and
he couldn’t see doing a job he didn’t like just to make a lot of money. Tess could see his point, she was very
thankful she found her own job fun and rewarding but she had hoped he would
show a sincere interest in working with Grant.
His
bosses at the restaurant really liked him and he had already been promoted to
assistant weekend shift manager which was an accomplishment for someone so
young. But pizza maker had never entered
her fantasies when she thought of her son’s future. She blamed herself for allowing him to grow
up with no positive male role model, she should have been understanding of his
needs, she should have tried to help him become more focused when he was
younger, something, anything! Surely she
could have directed him more and done more than she had, which was just to tell
herself that it would all work out, that he would grow up someday and find his
place.
Now
time was running out and she worried that he would end up like his dad,
drifting from job to job with no real direction in his life. It seemed all she could do now was be
supportive and pray, surely if God could move mountains he could move 180 pound
boys like Chad.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Chapter One
Chapter One
Tess
pushed the release button on the tape compartment of the 8mm camera and waited
while the tiny computer brain followed her command. She had just finished taping a children’s
wear fashion show and her neck and shoulders ached from standing with her arms
in the same position for so long. Much
of the footage had been shot handheld, with the help of the steady cam, and
even the small camera could quickly get heavy.
The studio owned an excellent tripod, complete with dolly, but with
children often the most artistic shots came up close with camera in hand, it
looked less intimidating that way and it was possible to get more relaxed,
natural shots.
She
took her work seriously and tried to tell the entire “story” from her
viewfinder. This seriousness combined
with her natural creativity made her very good at what she did. The studio had a reputation for good work and
were usually booked up weeks in advance.
They probably could have doubled their staff and still stayed busy but
both she and Ross liked to keep a high quality level which they both felt
required personal attention to every aspect of the product they turned
out.
Tess
did all of the video camera work and the rough edits but most of the credit for
the finished product had to go to Ross who personally did the final edits and
assembly. They functioned together as a
team, with the use of the high quality equipment Ross purchased for the studio
they produced a first class product.
Tess
glanced up from packing the equipment as Ms. Kirkenbaum, the modeling coach who
had hired the studio to tape the fashion show,
approached. The tapping of her
stiletto heels on the tile floor of the mall concourse could be heard even over
the din of noise all around them and Tess studied the older woman as she
approached. She was a vision of
perfection, from her carefully coifed hair to her neatly manicured nails and
the expensive, perfectly tailored suit that she wore. Tess smiled to herself trying to picture Ms.
Kirkenbaum looking harried and frumpy as she herself seemed to spend most of
her time. It was nice to realize that
she’d finally reached a point in her life where she no longer felt intimidated
at events like this, as she would have been only a few years before. She was used to being the only woman in jeans
or casual slacks and flats. It hadn’t
taken her long to realize that people rarely paid attention to the person
behind the camera, only to the camera itself, so she was accustomed to being
part of the décor, or treated as wait staff.
“How’d
it go?” Ms. Kirkenbaum asked when she
was within ear shot.
“Really well, I think we have some very
nice footage here,” Tess smiled as the older woman who appeared to be in her
late forties, but it was hard to tell.
The skin of her face was taunt, as though it had been lifted so there
were no determining age lines there. The
excellent cheekbones, which made her features striking, were genetic and it was
evident that Clarrisa Kirkenbaum had been a beauty in her youth.
“Were
you able to get good close ups of the boys?
I don’t usually get many boys to work a fashion show and I want some
footage to use for portfolios for advertising work,” Ms. Kirkenbaum held
herself regally, her posture picture perfect.
Tess
felt the need to stand straighter herself as she replied to the other woman,
vaguely wondering if she too had modeled before becoming a coach. ’Every life has a story’ she thought with a
smile, ‘everyone is a compilation of all that came before.‘ She assured the older woman that she had
indeed gotten good close ups of the five
boys that had modeled in the show as she briefly thought about life’s path and
how lives could be similar, but each was unique to the individual actually
living it.
Hitting
the replay button on the camera, she held it out for Ms. Kirkenbaum to
review. As she showed the other woman
the controls her mind wondered, what was the old saying, ‘Nothing new under the
sun?’ That was so true, even the
abstract thought patterns that flitted through ones mind were not new, someone
at some time had probably had similar thoughts, for not even an inventors creation
was theirs alone, it was usually based on work that had come before or built
from ideas someone else had put down.
Mentally
giving herself a shake she apologized to Ms. Kirkenbaum, “I’m sorry, what did
you ask?”
“How
long before I can view a final copy?” She repeated patiently, she was used to
dealing with children so she had a great deal of patience.
But
Tess was embarrassed to be caught wool gathering and she blushed slightly as
she replied, “It will probably take a week or so, but we’ll give you a call as
soon as we know for sure. I’m not sure
what Ross’ schedule is like, but I’ll get to the rough edits as soon as
possible.”
“That’s
fine, I’m just anxious . . .” Ms. Kirkenbaum stopped talking suddenly,
smiling at someone behind Tess. “Have you met my son?” she asked.
Tess
shook her head and turned to look up at the tall handsome man that had somehow
approached without her noticing. He
looked to be nearing forty, which would make his mother older than she’d
thought. He had his mother’s cheekbones
and carried himself with the same poise and she briefly wondered if he too had
modeled or if he’d just had lots of instruction from his mother. Remembering her manners she wiped her hand on
her jeans before reaching it out to grasp the hand that he offered. “Tess Quinlan,” she told him as his hand
closed over hers.
“Bob Kirkenbaum,” he smiled, revealing perfect teeth and a dimple in his left cheek. “Mother has shown me some of your previous work. I’m impressed.”
“Bob Kirkenbaum,” he smiled, revealing perfect teeth and a dimple in his left cheek. “Mother has shown me some of your previous work. I’m impressed.”
Tess
returned his smile, “Thank you for your compliment, but most of the credit goes
to Ross. He does the final edits and the
assembly. I’m just the camera . . .
.person.”
Bob
grinned noting her slight pause before using the ‘politically correct’ term,
his eyes quickly taking in her slender figure and petite build. “You’re right, you are definitely not a
cameraman. But don’t discredit what you
do, all the editing in the world can’t make something from nothing, the shots
have to be there first in order to be edited in.”
Tess
smiled again she wasn’t discrediting her work, just stating a fact. Shooting footage was easy and she enjoyed it,
it hardly seemed like work at all except for the ache in her shoulders. It was the frustrating hours in front of the
editing equipment that brought forth the polished results that the customers
saw, but now hardly seemed the time to argue her point. “Well, thank you for your vote of confidence,
I enjoy my work.” She bent down to the
camera case and pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “If you ever need our services, give us a
call. Gina handles the appointments,
she’s our office ‘go-fer’ and works the front counter, although I think she
prefers the term ‘girl Friday!’ She
smiled, “She handles the scheduling and can get you set up.”
He
took the card slowly from her hand, a look of surprise on his face. “Ross is a lucky man, having a dedicated
employee like you. He better hope you
never go into business for yourself, you could give him some real
competition.”
Tess
forced a smile, “Thank you.” She wished
they would move on and leave her to her packing. She hated small talk and his words had struck
a nerve, giving her a feeling of déjà vu.
Ross often told her the same thing, that he’d be in trouble if she went
into business for herself. What neither
man seemed to realize was that she just wasn’t that brave yet. Her shoulders were carrying about as much
responsibility as she could handle right now, she didn’t need to add such a
major thing as running her own business.
Bob
and his mother turned to greet some of the parents so she quickly turned back
to her packing. The parents would want
copies of some of the footage as well so her four hours of taping would net a
lot of profit for the studio. She
grinned thinking of Ross’ favorite saying, “Nothing happens until the sale is
made.”
As
she packed Bob watched her, noting how she carefully rolled the cords and
tucked each piece into their slotted carrying case. Most people would have just tossed everything
helter-skelter into the case but as tired as she must be she was still taking
the time to put everything in its proper place.
He smiled, his admiration for her growing as he remembered the way she
had tossed his mild flirtation back into his face by handing him a business
card and instructing him to call her girl Friday for an appointment. Here she was, all five feet nothing of her,
dressed more for a day in the park while the women around her were dressed to
the nines, but she was still so filled with self confidence that when a man
gave her a compliment, she brushed him off with the equivalent of “don’t call
us, we’ll call you.” She reminded him of
a feisty terrier, not big as a minute but very determined. He wondered what had made her so cautious
even as he thought what a formidable business partner she would make. Tucking the thought into his mind for another
day he glanced at Tess one last time before turning back to his mother.
Monday, January 14, 2013
When you can't trust yourself . . . .
There had been only once since Billy
that Tess had lowered her guard and allowed a man to get close to her
emotionally as well as physically. She
had met him at Posterity Studios where she worked as a photographer and a
videographer. He had sold her boss, Ross
Mathews, some new equipment that included free set up and training. Ross had asked her to sit in on the training
since after six years of working there, she was now the assistant manager and
knew almost as much about his business as he did.
The
process had taken most of a week and the salesman, Troy, had worked in the
field for many years so he truly understood the equipment as well as the field
they worked in. His training was
thorough and complete and Tess was surprised to find she enjoyed working with
him, as a rule, she found salesmen to be pushy and arrogant. Troy was charming and attentive in a
positive, non-threatening way and had seemed admiring of her intelligence as
well as her appearance. So few men
really talked to a woman unless they were working towards the bedroom, so she
had been surprised when he sought her opinion and seemed truly interested in
what she had to say.
By
the end of the training she had been as comfortable working with him as she was
with Ross, so when he asked her to join him for dinner she hesitated only
briefly before accepting. Even though
she had criticized herself for her bubble of excitement, she couldn’t help but
hope she might be at the start of something positive in her life.
They
had gone to one of the best restaurants in town, making her nervous and self
conscious and very much aware of her old clothes and worn purse. He had soon put her at ease, opening doors
and holding her chair, as if she were decked out in the latest fashion,
carrying a $500 purse instead of one of Becca’s hand-me-downs. He had been attentive during dinner,
listening when she talked and asking just the right questions to draw her out,
getting her to reveal far more of herself than she ever intended.
His replies to her questions had seemed thoughtful and he had shared
opinions about life and reaching ones goals that she had always secretly
believed but had never voiced for fear of ridicule. Such as following ones heart, and removing
negativity and negative people from your life.
They
seemed so well suited that even their silences were comfortable and
companionable and soon she found herself accepting a second date. By the third date she knew she was
infatuated. It was scary and exciting
all at once, so much so that when he asked her to go away with him for a
private weekend she hadn’t hesitated.
Her longing for intimacy with him had surprised her, as had the
eagerness she felt to have his body close to hers.
The
sex has been even more magical than she had imagined, he had been a skilled
loved and she was a more than eager pupil, so the intensity of their love making had literally left her
breathless. By the end of their two days
together she knew she was in far, far over her head and in danger of being
swept away by emotions she wasn’t yet ready to identify.
When
she arrived for work on Monday Ross had teased her about the bounce in her
step, and it was true, she had felt lighter than air. At lunch time, just as a florist delivered a
large bouquet of flowers from Troy the telephone had rang. Smiling at the sweet message on the card
attached to the bouquet she had absentmindedly reached for the phone, and her
happiness had shattered like so much broken glass around her feet. The caller identified herself as Troy’s wife,
and that had said it all. Troy was
married and his wife assured her there would be no divorce, Troy was a player
and Tess was just the latest in a long string of affairs.
“You
can keep seeing him until he tires of you if you want, but don’t think it’s
ever going anywhere,” she informed Tess before hanging up.
Tess
had slowly lowered the phone to the cradle before tossing the flowers into the
trash. One look at her face and Ross had
sent her home for the day, where she’d sat in a bubble bath and cried until
there were no more tears and her fingers were wrinkled, the water long since
gone cold. How could she have been so
stupid? How could she have allowed
herself to fall so easily? Her self
confidence had shattered along with her
heart, after all, if you couldn’t trust yourself, who could you trust?
Troy
had called just as darkness arrived and she had silently listened to his
pleadings, begging her forgiveness, swearing that his marriage was a sham. He swore they were actually separated but she
refused to let go. “Just please give me
some time,” he pleaded, but Tess had quietly hung up the phone, and then
disconnected it from the wall so he couldn’t call back.
He
had lied to her, allowed her to believe they were at the start of something,
but how could he begin something new when he hadn’t yet closed the door on his
past? Maybe if he had been honest from
the beginning she might have taken a chance, but by finding out this way she
felt too betrayed to ever trust him openly again.
He
had been persistent, calling so frequently she had finally gotten an unlisted
phone number. Ross prevented him from
seeing her at the studio and she had returned his gifts and cards unopened
until eventually he had given up.
Slowly
she had gone forward and put it behind her, or at least she was able to pretend
that she had recovered, but inside her confidence was gone while her heart
still ached. It would have been better
to have never known what she was missing than to taste it knowing it could never
be hers. Her heart now ached for
closeness, her body too, but no longer trusting her ability to recognize the
right person, she closed the door to her heart and soul and focused on her work
and her kids.
She
spent five days a week at the studio and did outside jobs on the weekends,
taping weddings and photographing special events. The extra money was welcome and it left her
too busy to miss what she didn’t have, or at least it had until recently. But lately when families came in for
portraits or she went to tape a graduation or a wedding and she saw loving
couples living in nice homes with all of the trappings, standing proudly with
their children, children who were sheltered and loved by both parents, her
heart ached. It was hard not to be
envious, why couldn’t that be her with her children? Why was it that no man had ever wanted to
“take care” of her? She realized this
was an antiquated idea, women could take care of themselves; but it would have
been nice to have someone to lean on occasionally.
But
she tried hard not to dwell on the things she didn’t have so she constantly
reminded herself to look for the positive.
After all, she had chosen this course, she had opened the door and
walked through and it was too late to go back and walk the path not taken or
change the outcome of her decisions.
“I
am at this moment the sum of all my past decisions,” Tess whispered to
herself. And all that she could do at
this point was to continue to move forward.
She would find a way to heal the aches, the hurts, a way to fill the
emptiness in her soul, a way to unlock the pain and let it all out until she
felt whole again.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
The Good Life?
Tess sighed as she closed the small
fabric covered book that she had been writing in, her hand tracing the floral
pattern on its back. She had chosen it
because of the pretty old fashioned look the cloth cover gave. It looked like the sort of book a lady would choose
to keep her journal in and she loved the faded yellow tint of the pages, just
waiting for her pen to stroke them. It
reminded her of the diary in the novel “1984.”
She
felt better now that she had taken the first step. It was often said that a journey of a
thousand miles began with the first step, now all she had to do was keep
putting one foot in front of the other until she felt whole again. One step at a time. This emptiness inside of her was
frightening. It felt as if she’d been
carrying the “whole load” of life’s responsibilities for so long and she was
tired, overwhelmingly tired, bone deep tired.
Even before her divorce from Billy six years ago she had carried the
load, but never, never had she so longed for someone to share the burden as she
did now.
The
first few years after her separation from Billy had been so filled with
adjustment that they had passed very swiftly.
The kids had grown from children to teens and she’d been so busy trying
to make their lives better, to achieve something for their benefit that time
had flown on past. Maybe that was the
root of her discontent, for in spite of all of her struggles, her
determination, they still could barely make ends meet. As the kids had grown, so had their needs and
while they could work part time now and meet some of their own expenses there
were still so many things she longed to give them, do for them before it was
too late, before they grew up resenting her for all that she had failed to
do.
When
they were babies she had envisioned a ’typical’ middle class childhood for
them, complete with braces and ballet classes, a good safe dependable car when
they were old enough to drive, college educations after high school, and most
of all, a father who would care about these things as well. Sadly, reality was far removed from her
visions. They seldom heard from Billy,
his child support had been sporadic over the years and it took all she earned
just to feed them and keep a roof over their heads. Sometimes she swore her old car ran on prayer
and if not for Grant letting Chad drive one of the farm trucks, he wouldn't have a vehicle at all. They existed
paycheck to paycheck and she prayed each night that they all stayed healthy so
that there would be no overwhelming medical bills to face.
It
had been so long since they’d enjoyed a family dinner out, other than fast food
occasionally, and she couldn't remember the last time she’d bought a new outfit
for herself. Her clothes were usually
hand-me-downs from her sister Becca, or from Patty, Uncle Grant’s wife. Tressa and Chad bought most of their own
clothes now, but whenever she did have anything extra to spend, it always went
to meet their needs first. Now their
childhood years were almost over, it was nearly too late, she had failed.
When
she and Billy had first separated she had tried dating, hoping to find someone
to share her life with. Someone to help
carry part of life’s load, or at least someone to listen when she talked about
her troubles. After several awkward
dates ranging from dull to total disasters she’d given up on the dating scene
and refused to agree to anymore blind dates from well meaning friends. If being single was the good life, then Tess
had somehow missed it.
From
the stilted conversations of first dates to fending off sexual advances at the
end of the evening, there was nothing she enjoyed about casual dating. She didn’t believe in one night stands or in
allowing herself to be picked up by a stranger.
Somehow it all made her feel like a side of beef in a meat market or a
good dependable used car on a lot with shiny new sports cars. She wasn’t a knockout, didn’t have unusually
large breasts or shiny blond hair that cascaded down her back, she didn't know
how to play the helpless female game and couldn’t promote herself other than
honestly.
She’d
soon learned that men weren't looking for honesty, they wanted sex appeal. She needed friendship before sex, men just
wanted sex. She liked sincerity,
intimacy on an intellectual level before advancing to intimacy on a physical
level, men didn't want intimacy at all, they just wanted hot, uncomplicated
sex. She wanted fidelity, a woman shouldn't have to worry about being compared to anyone else when making love
with her man. She wanted a committed
relationship, she wanted all the words men hated. Men weren't looking for any type of
relationship, they didn't want closeness and friendship, they didn't long for a
soul mate, they wanted freedom, variety, the right to bed whomever they wanted
whenever they wanted. It had been hard
accepting these facts at first and like so many things in life, it had come
through painful experience.
Her
only close female friend, Lisa, had recently moved away to Virginia Beach. She was a hair dresser and they had met just
after Tess and Billy had separated.
Though their personalities were complete opposites, she’d been very
helpful and supportive during the complications of divorce, having just
survived one herself. Her vibrant,
outgoing manner had helped Tess keep her perspective and her bawdy sense of
humor had lifted many depressive days.
Lisa
dated casually, picking up men in bars for ‘recreational’ sex, as she called
it. Tess had drawn the line at joining
her on her ‘outings’ and listened in amazement at the stories Lisa shared. She confided that about half the men she
picked up were married, maybe more, but if they didn’t volunteer the
information, and many did, she didn’t bother asking. Her reasoning was that if it wasn’t her, it
would be someone else, all men were scum and only good for one thing in Lisa’s
opinion. Her rationalization was that it
was just sex, not love and romance.
After
living with Billy Tess couldn’t understand Lisa’s casualness, she tried to make
her see that somewhere on the other side of that one night stand was a woman
who had no idea she was married to a creep who couldn’t keep his fly
zipped. Besides, how could she be so
casual about something that was anything but?
It had finally become an area where they both agreed to disagree and
Lisa carefully omitted certain bits of information when sharing tales of her
outings after that.
For
Tess, sex and intimacy were all tied up together inside and she couldn’t
imagine one without the other, nor did she want to. She didn’t understand how anyone could turn
their emotions on and off like that. Sex
was so much more than just the physical joining of two bodies, it was the
greatest possible way to say “I care” and without the emotion, the caring and
the tenderness, it seemed empty and meaningless. It seemed wrong to cheapen something so
wonderful by sharing it with just anyone who said yes, no matter how great the
physical need. Nor did she believe any
human being was truly programmed that way, for to do so reduced one to an
animal-istic level. No matter how much a
person might deceive themselves into believing casual sex was un-involved, how
could you share something so intimate and personal, so filled with pleasure,
with the give and take of that pleasure, and not feel a certain amount of tenderness
towards them?
Lisa
told her that these feelings were just the afterglow of good sex, but if that
were true then what a waste to share them with someone you hardly knew and
cared about in only the most basic way any human being cares about another. It all became very empty and meaningless when
you looked at it that way, and all life should have meaning. Life without meaning seemed destructive to
the soul and that wasn’t for Tess, some things shouldn’t be cheapened, to do so
cheapened life itself.
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