Snowbound and Irate

Well. I and my relationship seem to have survived Thanksgiving. I wasn't sure that was going to happen when I agreed to this. Hell, given the givens of what happened, I think it went just about as well as could be expected. Even better, in some respects. And now, for that, I'm going to knock on a block of wood big as the Everglades so that doesn't come back and bite me in the ass.

Good stuff; always the better place to start, I think. That way you work your way downhill, follow the flow of gravity, all that. Mr. Dante Hicks said it best: "That's what life is, a series of down endings." We can just be grateful this story includes no muppets, only dogs arguably allowed to express their physical affection for my girlfriend more openly than I was this weekend. But sometimes, you have to accept that she's just your Fay Wray and let the Beast do his dirty work.

Anyway, so...top of the list: no bloodshed at Thanksgiving itself, though it threatened to spill over a couple of times. Shock of shocks, Hemi himself cut it off at least once. Not what I would have expected from the roomie. Maybe he's mellowing in his old age, or maybe he's just not so easily pegged as I thought. As expected, took some grief from a couple of Hemi's siblings. Not so bad that I felt wounded to the quick or any bullshit like that, nor so bad that it even really bothered me at all. I think, I hope, that I acquitted myself admirably, as they say. Even when I gave the broadside opening to have Marci bash Hemi's chosen major -- smooth as silk, that one, but then I was expecting the attacks to come my way. Which, well, they did as well I guess. Best I could tell, at least, the rest of Hemi's family and Dot's side of the table didn't think I ate too much crow for that one. Though personally, I think I need to deduct points for rambling too much about how "sure" I am of the future, even if it is newspapers.

I was this close from quoting Lloyd, just to see if Dot would choke laughing. If anyone had asked the right question, I would have given in.

Oh, yeah: the food. Turkey was great, stuffing was fabulous, and I snuck seconds of the mincemeat pie. I just had to be sure Dot's stepmother didn't see me doing it -- didn't want anyone thinking I was trying to suck up. Overall, the most chaotic Thanksgiving I've ever been to, but disaster? I don't think it even came close to qualifying.

Friday started out on a high note. Too bad it was, at best, a sixteenth note in the whole movement of the day. Took her until poster three before she started to smile, but mission accomplished on Top Secret Project #1. Called the guys at campus copy, they had everything prepped by the time I got back. My sleep schedule for this week is screwed so I can get out there before dawn, but with everything else it's not like sleep was going to happen anyway. Think she liked the mix too, but she didn't get a chance to really listen before it all fell apart.

Put it off long enough, I guess: Bad stuff. Hemi...Hemi, you bastard. Can't even blame you, given they've confirmed your blood tests were clean, can I? Well, I suppose I can blame you for the timing, but random chance or Gods or whatever the fuck you want to blame wait for no man. Maybe I should blame you for somehow making me care as much as I do, but...hell. Hating you for what you did, what you -do- to Dot would be easy. And I was never much one for easy. I've already had to start banking the cash from your 'get better' tin; once you wake the hell up, it's time for one hell of a rager.

So that nixed plans to introduce my girl to my girl, so to speak. Given the givens, it nixed plans for me to go up alone; I'll just have to see Neela after finals instead on my own. I don't need to throw Dot on that particular loop anyway if I can avoid it. There's enough going on, apparently. Hemi was "subtle" as he always is, but it's pretty obvious that something happened recently to Dot's dad -- who, by the way, seems like a pretty good guy, but it's hard to judge. We got to her place just in time to start the cooking, then it was drive over, food, drive back, and disaster time. There wasn't a whole lot of time for deep, meaningful conversation with the man, though I don't think he hates me on sight, which gives me a start. Dot's never mentioned whatever Hemi was hinting at, but what can I say; it's the quiet boys who notice more than you think.

It makes me wonder, sometimes: how much are we simply stepping around because it's not the right time, or because it's too soon and I (at least) don't want to go scaring her off? Like her Dad being sick. Or calling Barbie "Mom", and not going through the public dance of shoving her away when things were actually bad. Or any of the other little subtle things that aren't worth putting into words. It's not like I'm not equally fucked up in my way, not like I'm not talking about the huge and scary truths. I am so disgustingly good at swallowing the worry, and doing my song-and-clownshoe-dance to distract her for a moment, make her smile for an instant or two, in hopes it's making a bit of difference. I hate that I have no way to know if it's doing any good.

You know what I hate most? The tiny part of me that's grateful for Hemi, because he bought me time. Even if I'd decided to jump in the deep end of the pool anyway, now it's all put off. Tiny corner of my brain, better not meet me in a dark alley.

And then you factor in Byron, the best friend that I never got to meet, and it's just the perfect capper to Winter Semester. I'm kinda glad the roommate is dragging her out to the west coast for the holiday. It's going to be me, an empty dorm, and a couple of day trips to Boston. "Merry Christmas One and All" my fat non-white ass.