Entry XXXIV--Incomplete
THIS WILL BE COMBINED WITH 'HOPE' ENTRY
Ready to bounce off these walls. No purpose; no more book to write, no more tour to prepare for, no more wounds to recover from.
Want to go to Cassandra's, but have to wait until she's off work. Haven't been there since last Thursday, for Thanksgiving. She did a pretty admirable job on the tofurkey; a bit dry, but definitely appetizing.
We still haven't slept together--heavy petting on the couch that almost approached dry humping, but Cassandra told me from the outset she wouldn't be sleeping with me anytime soon, that she truthfully has only slept with a couple of guys before and she takes these things very slow.
And I have no idea exactly when we will be sleeping together; if ever. Though it rubs my libertine attitude the wrong way, have to respect her standards, standing on the sideline with navy testes.
Wouldn't do that for most women, I'd just move on, and remain alone, but Cassandra is different. She's worth waiting for, she's worth not being alone and content.
It'll be a different kind of contentment with her, if it gets that far.
My left hand will be jealous...
Drag myself over to the desk and plop down in front of the monitor. Can kill time on the web...or I can actually start looking through this 'fan mail' that Ms. Cabal had sent over.
Forgot who Cassandra said she was protecting tonight, some actress who is 'secretly' a lesbian but only employs female bodyguards. Believe they're at some charity function for some disease or another.
Whoever she's guarding and wherever they're at, I do know Cassandra's probably bored, wishing she was painting. She's told me how sick she is of being a bodyguard, and after the experience on my book tour, that completely drained her emotionally from the profession.
She just doesn't want to do it anymore...
Hopefully it's the only person I care about at this point, but I stop myself from anxiously blurting out her name and keep it to a simple: "Hello?"
"Hi, Darwin."
Whew, it's her. "How are you?"
"Glad this job is over with. Never been so bored in all my life."
Silent smile crosses my face; getting to know her better, anticipating her moods. I really want this to work out between us.
"So, you want to get together tonight..." My words hanging like the possibility
"Sure...I'm tired, but I want to see you."
"Well, if you're tired..."
"No, I want to see you, Darwin."
Can hear it in her voice; she really does want to see me, as impossible as that may be for me to accept.
"What time should I drop by?"
(It's always at her place; we tried hanging at my cramped crib once, but that was a no-go. All women hate my efficiency, and Cassandra is no exception. Beside the unkempt nature of my place, the complete lack of space, the lame bathroom, add to it the wafer-thin walls assuring no privacy whatsoever).
She's just more comfortable at her place, and frankly so am I.
Put it this way, if she's ever is going to sleep with me, it'll be at her place...
"I don't know, give me an hour, I need to shower."
"That's funny. I don't. See, that's what happens when you don't have anything to do all day--you don't work up a sweat."
"We'll just have to find something for you to do then, don't we?"
"To work up a sweat?" she can probably hear my suggestive sneer through the receiver.
"No--to keep you busy. I'm showering before you get hear, remember honey? That means no sweating for me--or you either."
"Damn. Well, I'm still going to come by anyway."
"How big of you."
"See you in an hour, have a safe trip home."
"Thanks, honey."
Phone clicks off and I'm alone and it feels uncomfortable, which is new territory for me. Being called "honey" on a regular basis is likewise foreign ground, but Cassandra likes it as a term of endearment...
In utter contrast to preparing for an evening out with Ms. Cabal, it's completely relaxed and casual with Cassandra; just throw on a sweater folded under a pillow. Don't even bother brushing my hair--but I do brush my teeth--and I'm out the door.
Arrive at her Polk Gulch apartment on WHAT STREET on its hilly slanted incline within a half hour. Nothing about it stands out from the other apartment buildings on the block, tend to remember it by the faded green awning above the doorway.
Push the buzzer marked SULLIVAN and wait for her buzz-back that grants me entry to her abode, or at least, the outer shell of it.
Still slightly uncomfortable prowling her hallway, but get less anxious every time I drop by.
When she opens the door, I surprise her with a boquet of flowers I picked up on Polk Street from a place just about to close.
"Almost had to wedge my foot in the door to get these," I tell her, "it was like he didn't want my money."
Cassandra ignores the flowers in favor of planting a firm kiss on my lips.
"Oooo, you're cold," she notices.
"You're helping to warm them up."
"Let's get the rest of you warm, come in, come in," she gestures and I follow suit.
She offers me a drink--soft--but I turn it down and coax her into joining me on the couch...
Feels really really good to cuddle after the time apart
No kissing, no spooning, just holding each other, sitting on her plush couch
But still, as tight as she feels in my arms, can tell she's not all here, she's drifting...in her thoughts, at least.
"What is it, babe?" I ask softly, gently.
She cops instantly to being so preoccupied, "I'm sorry, Darwin. I'm just trying to decide if I can survive without being a bodyguard."
"You mean just selling your paintings?"
"Yeah. Why, you don't think I can do it?"
Uh oh, I sense a twist in the wind, "No, not saying that at all. I was just asking."
"Well, yes, selling paintings would be the way I'd support myself. The thing is, I need time to paint more and to promote and sell my paintings more; when I'm a guard I never have the time, so I need to keep being a guard in order to pay the bills. Viscious circle."
"The viscious-ist. I've been there; until Ms. Cabal laid that advance on me, I was always having to compromise between working on my art and trying to eek out a living."
"I have enough money where I could live for a couple months without any income coming in."
"And if you didn't sell any paintings during that time?"
"Then I'm looking at living on credit cards--or going back to being a bodyguard."
"That wouldn't be so bad, would it? I mean, at least you're giving painting a shot, and you'll get a break from doing security."
"Yeah, that's all well and good, but I don't want to fail, you know."
"I know."
"No, you don't. You didn't fail."
"I failed for a lot of years before Ms. Cabal picked me up out of the compost pile."
"Maybe I need her to promote my paintings."
"Maybe you do. Actually, she has so many connections, she probably could get your work sold to someone somewhere."
"Oh, it's that difficult is it? she answers, somewhat snarky.
"You know I didn't mean that."
"I know, honey." She rubs my shoulder to provide me an extra layer reassurance. "I'm just sensitive--and scared about the whole thing."
"I can see that. I'm here for you, as much as I possibly can be. Ms. Cabal is there if you want to talk to her. Hell, she's already hired her, so you probably have more pull with her than I do."
"We both know that isn't true, Darwin. Ms. Cabal is very fond of you. The look of concern on her face after the explosion and you had to be taken to the hospital was totally sincere."
"Yeah, cause I'm her cash cow."
"I thought you said you weren't even going to write another book."
"I'm not, I was just fucking around."
Pause to look out Cassandra's window in a wholly involuntary motion.
"Fact is, I don't know what Ms. Cabal has in store for me."
"What do you have in store for you?"
"You expect me to know that?"
Cassandra intertwines her fingers with me, a sign that she's changing the subject, loosening up.
"Sooooo...you going to miss me when I'm gone."
"During christmas? Hell yes I'm going to miss you. That time of year is always boring for me, I don't celebrate that shit and I never go anywhere."
"I'd invite you with, but it's a bit too soon."
My turn to dispense the empathy with the squeeze of her hand, "It's okay; I'm not exactly ready to meet your parental units either. I'll survive, with you, all the way back in Boston."
"Yeah, but I'll be back for New Year's!"
"You know, you're going to miss our anniversary."
"Huh?"
"On xmas eve, we passed by each other, on Bush Street, near my building."
Recollection strikes her: "That's right...Tell you what, you can call me at my parent's house."
"You won't be too busy?"
"What, thinking of you?"
That felt good to hear and I squeeze her hand in response.
"I'll call," I assure her.
"You better."
With that settled, Cassandra looks to change the subject once more:
"So, are you still getting those letters?"
My turn to be confused: "Letters?"
"You know, from your readers?"
"Oh, yeah. Some of them want to start a new religious-free zone with them," chuckle a bit too loudly trying to get that one out.
"What do you mean, 'zone'?"
Smile as I struggle to find the right words, "Not zone, but you know, like a cult, or commune, or a secret society. Like we should all live together and start a 'post-christian' world, or something like that."
"Sounds pretty crazy."
"Yeah, I've been living alone for so long, not exactly sure how well I'd function in any kind of group-living context..."
There's an exceptionally long silence before she squeezes my hand and says, "How well do you think you'd function trying to live with one other person...?"
Ready to bounce off these walls. No purpose; no more book to write, no more tour to prepare for, no more wounds to recover from.
Want to go to Cassandra's, but have to wait until she's off work. Haven't been there since last Thursday, for Thanksgiving. She did a pretty admirable job on the tofurkey; a bit dry, but definitely appetizing.
We still haven't slept together--heavy petting on the couch that almost approached dry humping, but Cassandra told me from the outset she wouldn't be sleeping with me anytime soon, that she truthfully has only slept with a couple of guys before and she takes these things very slow.
And I have no idea exactly when we will be sleeping together; if ever. Though it rubs my libertine attitude the wrong way, have to respect her standards, standing on the sideline with navy testes.
Wouldn't do that for most women, I'd just move on, and remain alone, but Cassandra is different. She's worth waiting for, she's worth not being alone and content.
It'll be a different kind of contentment with her, if it gets that far.
My left hand will be jealous...
Drag myself over to the desk and plop down in front of the monitor. Can kill time on the web...or I can actually start looking through this 'fan mail' that Ms. Cabal had sent over.
Forgot who Cassandra said she was protecting tonight, some actress who is 'secretly' a lesbian but only employs female bodyguards. Believe they're at some charity function for some disease or another.
Whoever she's guarding and wherever they're at, I do know Cassandra's probably bored, wishing she was painting. She's told me how sick she is of being a bodyguard, and after the experience on my book tour, that completely drained her emotionally from the profession.
She just doesn't want to do it anymore...
Hopefully it's the only person I care about at this point, but I stop myself from anxiously blurting out her name and keep it to a simple: "Hello?"
"Hi, Darwin."
Whew, it's her. "How are you?"
"Glad this job is over with. Never been so bored in all my life."
Silent smile crosses my face; getting to know her better, anticipating her moods. I really want this to work out between us.
"So, you want to get together tonight..." My words hanging like the possibility
"Sure...I'm tired, but I want to see you."
"Well, if you're tired..."
"No, I want to see you, Darwin."
Can hear it in her voice; she really does want to see me, as impossible as that may be for me to accept.
"What time should I drop by?"
(It's always at her place; we tried hanging at my cramped crib once, but that was a no-go. All women hate my efficiency, and Cassandra is no exception. Beside the unkempt nature of my place, the complete lack of space, the lame bathroom, add to it the wafer-thin walls assuring no privacy whatsoever).
She's just more comfortable at her place, and frankly so am I.
Put it this way, if she's ever is going to sleep with me, it'll be at her place...
"I don't know, give me an hour, I need to shower."
"That's funny. I don't. See, that's what happens when you don't have anything to do all day--you don't work up a sweat."
"We'll just have to find something for you to do then, don't we?"
"To work up a sweat?" she can probably hear my suggestive sneer through the receiver.
"No--to keep you busy. I'm showering before you get hear, remember honey? That means no sweating for me--or you either."
"Damn. Well, I'm still going to come by anyway."
"How big of you."
"See you in an hour, have a safe trip home."
"Thanks, honey."
Phone clicks off and I'm alone and it feels uncomfortable, which is new territory for me. Being called "honey" on a regular basis is likewise foreign ground, but Cassandra likes it as a term of endearment...
In utter contrast to preparing for an evening out with Ms. Cabal, it's completely relaxed and casual with Cassandra; just throw on a sweater folded under a pillow. Don't even bother brushing my hair--but I do brush my teeth--and I'm out the door.
Arrive at her Polk Gulch apartment on WHAT STREET on its hilly slanted incline within a half hour. Nothing about it stands out from the other apartment buildings on the block, tend to remember it by the faded green awning above the doorway.
Push the buzzer marked SULLIVAN and wait for her buzz-back that grants me entry to her abode, or at least, the outer shell of it.
Still slightly uncomfortable prowling her hallway, but get less anxious every time I drop by.
When she opens the door, I surprise her with a boquet of flowers I picked up on Polk Street from a place just about to close.
"Almost had to wedge my foot in the door to get these," I tell her, "it was like he didn't want my money."
Cassandra ignores the flowers in favor of planting a firm kiss on my lips.
"Oooo, you're cold," she notices.
"You're helping to warm them up."
"Let's get the rest of you warm, come in, come in," she gestures and I follow suit.
She offers me a drink--soft--but I turn it down and coax her into joining me on the couch...
Feels really really good to cuddle after the time apart
No kissing, no spooning, just holding each other, sitting on her plush couch
But still, as tight as she feels in my arms, can tell she's not all here, she's drifting...in her thoughts, at least.
"What is it, babe?" I ask softly, gently.
She cops instantly to being so preoccupied, "I'm sorry, Darwin. I'm just trying to decide if I can survive without being a bodyguard."
"You mean just selling your paintings?"
"Yeah. Why, you don't think I can do it?"
Uh oh, I sense a twist in the wind, "No, not saying that at all. I was just asking."
"Well, yes, selling paintings would be the way I'd support myself. The thing is, I need time to paint more and to promote and sell my paintings more; when I'm a guard I never have the time, so I need to keep being a guard in order to pay the bills. Viscious circle."
"The viscious-ist. I've been there; until Ms. Cabal laid that advance on me, I was always having to compromise between working on my art and trying to eek out a living."
"I have enough money where I could live for a couple months without any income coming in."
"And if you didn't sell any paintings during that time?"
"Then I'm looking at living on credit cards--or going back to being a bodyguard."
"That wouldn't be so bad, would it? I mean, at least you're giving painting a shot, and you'll get a break from doing security."
"Yeah, that's all well and good, but I don't want to fail, you know."
"I know."
"No, you don't. You didn't fail."
"I failed for a lot of years before Ms. Cabal picked me up out of the compost pile."
"Maybe I need her to promote my paintings."
"Maybe you do. Actually, she has so many connections, she probably could get your work sold to someone somewhere."
"Oh, it's that difficult is it? she answers, somewhat snarky.
"You know I didn't mean that."
"I know, honey." She rubs my shoulder to provide me an extra layer reassurance. "I'm just sensitive--and scared about the whole thing."
"I can see that. I'm here for you, as much as I possibly can be. Ms. Cabal is there if you want to talk to her. Hell, she's already hired her, so you probably have more pull with her than I do."
"We both know that isn't true, Darwin. Ms. Cabal is very fond of you. The look of concern on her face after the explosion and you had to be taken to the hospital was totally sincere."
"Yeah, cause I'm her cash cow."
"I thought you said you weren't even going to write another book."
"I'm not, I was just fucking around."
Pause to look out Cassandra's window in a wholly involuntary motion.
"Fact is, I don't know what Ms. Cabal has in store for me."
"What do you have in store for you?"
"You expect me to know that?"
Cassandra intertwines her fingers with me, a sign that she's changing the subject, loosening up.
"Sooooo...you going to miss me when I'm gone."
"During christmas? Hell yes I'm going to miss you. That time of year is always boring for me, I don't celebrate that shit and I never go anywhere."
"I'd invite you with, but it's a bit too soon."
My turn to dispense the empathy with the squeeze of her hand, "It's okay; I'm not exactly ready to meet your parental units either. I'll survive, with you, all the way back in Boston."
"Yeah, but I'll be back for New Year's!"
"You know, you're going to miss our anniversary."
"Huh?"
"On xmas eve, we passed by each other, on Bush Street, near my building."
Recollection strikes her: "That's right...Tell you what, you can call me at my parent's house."
"You won't be too busy?"
"What, thinking of you?"
That felt good to hear and I squeeze her hand in response.
"I'll call," I assure her.
"You better."
With that settled, Cassandra looks to change the subject once more:
"So, are you still getting those letters?"
My turn to be confused: "Letters?"
"You know, from your readers?"
"Oh, yeah. Some of them want to start a new religious-free zone with them," chuckle a bit too loudly trying to get that one out.
"What do you mean, 'zone'?"
Smile as I struggle to find the right words, "Not zone, but you know, like a cult, or commune, or a secret society. Like we should all live together and start a 'post-christian' world, or something like that."
"Sounds pretty crazy."
"Yeah, I've been living alone for so long, not exactly sure how well I'd function in any kind of group-living context..."
There's an exceptionally long silence before she squeezes my hand and says, "How well do you think you'd function trying to live with one other person...?"
posted by Darwin Grimm at 2:16 AM
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