4:14pm
Phone’s ringing—been ringing now for twenty
minutes, on & off: Emily calling from the stables wondering why I haven’t
picked her up from Equestrian practice. She’ll use it as an excuse to petition
for that new car she says we’re too cheap to buy her—as if she can’t realize that she
doesn’t deserve one. I’d be shocked if she didn’t drive any car we got her
straight to South Central and trade it for a year’s supply of crack.
Jacob calling from
his guitar lesson. He decided he wanted to learn guitar after he abandoned
violin, saxophone, flute, & piano. He’s been talking about giving up music
for acting. The older he gets, the more attention he craves. Perhaps it’s other
things he craves. Women. Drugs. Fame. I have little doubt he’ll find anything
he seeks. I also doubt he’ll be capable of handling any of it before it
destroys him.
Jack’s called a few
times—probably pissed off, not because he’ll have to leave the
office early to pick up the kids, but because he won’t get the chance to have a
few drinks at the bar with his colleagues after work. He needs that to wind down before he comes
home.
I get to try winding
down between cleaning, errands, picking up the children, cooking, and lifting
up my nightgown once in a while so Jack can release some sexual tension. None
of them are worried about where I am.
Point Dume. Sitting
on a beach staring as the sun burns a trail through the Malibu sky, listening
to the vain attempts of my family to contact me. I stare directly into the sun
so that it might dry the tears before they leave their ducts. They love me. No,
they need me.
Dependency misconstrued as love. Fuck them!
My love was
unconditional for a time. What have I been able to depend on? I never expected
anything in exchange for that love. Regardless, I am mourning them. I will die,
but they are already dead. So I
sit here, burning my ass on the sand, beating my chest, setting my retinas on
fire—sitting
Shiva.
I stand and begin to make my way back to the car
through a haze of black and yellow. The phone rings again. Jack, Emily, Jacob.
It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve made my peace. I turn around once last time,
facing the waves and the waning sun, and throw the phone at the offending
horizon.
