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03.25.02 - 12:17 p.m. apparantly tim and i have nothing to say to each other. no. i have lots to say but i dont trust myself enough to do it because im not sure if its right or not. instead i pretend to not see him and he breathes quietly and what was a normal, neighborly relationship has turned into a cold war. I didnt go to work today. i partied like a rock star all weekend and woke up this morning at 6am to my porn star back yard neighbor and her girlfriend busting through what looked like a chest of drawers with two hammers. "Do you HAVE to do that right now??" i screamed out my window with johnathans tee shirt wrapped successfully around one half of my body. Two blonde ponytails swished and it was silence bewteen our yards until the more naked of the two turned and layed a clean shot into the dresser top and kept on. My mouth was dry and my stomach kept rumbling. I didnt do my laundry and i had nothing to wear. I watched my curtain blow out and in over the edge of my bed with wrists behind my head and thought about calling in sick. Johnathan and jeff and i were supposed to go to the beach today but i told them i needed to go to work. They chided me and i never considered it. But there was something about the hammering girls and my lack of possible dress up options and the sting in my stomach that had me calling in sick anyway. In overalls again and red red hair i collected the whole of my laundry, put my plants in the shower, called kim for the vacuum, tossed the closeted rug over the balcony and down to the sidewalk, and separated the dry clean from the regulars. I collected the trash and had it in the can right as bernard was taking his normal heavy steps across the street to collect it. After this weekend, i wanted to be as similar to my mother as possible. I left my cell phone on the stripped bed and left without calling john. I was afraid of any reminder of the weekend, any reminder of the girl that i become who is not what i remember. I let johnathan buy me clothes again. Lainy tells me not to and i agree with her wholeheartedly but i do it anyway. We went to the mall and i disappeared into practical jeans and a not so practical bra, red, then orange. I purchased $125 of clothes that i needed and waited for john to find me. He searched through my bags and glanced at me, "what are you wearing tonight?" i didnt know, something, i wasnt aware of the upcoming evening as something i needed to prepare for. A gay bar with my gay friends, pretty much an open and closed case. He sent me to the dressing room and i told him i couldnt spend anymore, he leveled me with green eyes, handed me a denim bustier and told me he wasnt asking me to. I tried it on slowly, confused my the lack of sleeves, by the lack of shape. I tilted my head in the mirror and searched for the 22 year old girl that i knew, that i remembered, but i wasnt smiling in the same way and my back looked too bare and too soft, freckles i havent seen before, apparant now after such close examination. Johnathan directed commissioned sales girls with an efficiency that must be typical of gay men. A smaller shirt, 38 double d, push up, no, strapless, a white top, lace up pants, this in petite please and this in tall, she kept watching me and i watched her back with eyes that didnt feel right in my own head and i turned so she could unzip me. "Are you ok?" she whispered over my shoulder as she tied me into a complicated top and i felt like crying, i felt like asking her out to lunch so that she could explain what johnathan was doing. I felt too young and crowded and fawned over. I watched myself critically in the glass and let him make decisions. The pile of clothes reached my shoulder and he handed me combinations. Eventually he stayed with me in the dressing room and i remembered to ask him to turn around although it seemed silly, as if i had already given everything away. It seemed unecessary as if he had already seen anything that i have created for myself that may be important. With his face to the wall i pulled myself in and out of bras and opened the door a crack to let the sales girl in with something new they had decided on. The other dressing room women let their eyes trace over my outfits and to johnathans back and then again to my eyes and i felt like i should apologize, like i should make myself as small as possible, an embarrassment. "The perfect hourglass figure" is what i slipped into eventually...jeans, a black strappy top and a strapless bra that i couldnt breathe well in, and i couldnt understand the eagerness in his eyes or why this was important to him. I began to loathe the phrase "token girlfriend" and something in my chest was hurting. I changed back into the practical clothes i had bought and he got in line. A tall green eyed man in a queue full of perfectly legitimate women with children and work clothes. I joined him and felt shy standing next to him with nothing in my hands, too tall and too obvious. The dressing room women were behind me and i wanted to apologize again and ask them what they thought of the whole thing. What he expected? Was it sex? He's gay, what does that mean? I needed help and i needed someone else other than myself to hold my hand. "I feel weird about you doing this" I told him and when he asked why i couldnt rationalize. I did feel thankful in the same way i feel thankful when mom pays for things i cant afford. Ive never had a strapless bra, i could never rationalize the strappy tank and the hippie shirt, when would i ever wear it? And then i felt like he should pay for it. I felt myself slipping into a mentality that i wasnt used to, that wasnt me. If he wants to walk into a bar with a girl on his arm that he's dressed to look pretty or slutty or virginal or kept then he can finance it. I tell myself this and mentally add up the prices of the clothes in his arms. "Youre dangerous to have around" he smiles at me and the salesgirl swipes his gold card and hands it back to him. The women behind me are quiet, the babies too, there is loud music in the background, tonights music. I feel something that i dont understand. I feel like i am getting into territory i might not get myself out of and i feel sad. I feel like a sad girl, and lonely, and i am. I feel like i need to get out of town, to leave him with his bags of my clothes and his credit cards that keep receipts on what i owe him, and drive away. I get drunk almost immediately. I drink while i put on makeup and wait for jeff. Vodka. Always. I do look really good. I cant help but watch myself in the mirror and the clothes i didnt buy, wouldnt buy, dressing me in shadows and curves that i didnt expect. Johnathan ironed in a towel and smiled at me watching myself. I pretended nonchalance and applied lipliner. I drank the feeling that something wasnt right out of me as fast as i could and excused the jury that was finding me guilty. The juryroom of myself was dark and i was nowhere to be found. I felt like a 5 year old in her mothers clothes but too sexy. I was taller than john and reaching jeff's chin as he topped the stairs and handed his lover some underwear. He kissed me on the cheek indifferently and commented on my now red hair, same curls, johnathan ironed i went to the fridge for a beer. No one mentioned the clothes that werent mine and the secret hung between johnathan and i like adultery. I was already far too drunk to drive as we headed down the stairs and into the night. Johnathan drove and the rest of the night is contained in polaroids. Illustrated by the boys, some of it i remember, other parts was some other girl. There was sushi that i couldnt stomach and a plush chair in a bathroom somewhere that i fell asleep in. A wealthy lesbian who had me halfway to the back room before john found my other hand, claiming me. Drag queens that i embarrassed and a daisy chain that jeff tied around my sweaty neck. A cartilage peircing ball that had been switched to blue in a tatoo parlor. I woke up to the shine of it behind a red curl and stood in front of the mirror, staring. Sober jeff drove us home in a trip i cant remember at all, except for john tickling my neck with a feather from my boa, trying. I once told him my neck was my erogenous zone, and theres been attempts ever since. A quick shuffling out of shoes and maybe an attempt at pajamas which ended up knocking over a glass and had us tiptoeing around the shards to get into bed. Water soaking into my journal and the books on my bedside table. Jeff went back out to drink and johnathan didnt care. His arm around me, linking five fingers into the spaces between my ribs and snoring immediately. I slept fitfully until jeff came back home and john had to switch beds, allegiances deep that i dont understand, that im not jelous of, but that had me all alone in a bed that suddenly seemed all wrong and far too big.
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