Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Weekend Update - The Rest of the Story

While complaining about B Saturday night because of the shit he was starting, L told me “I should have never quit the job I had here in town and moved back in with B full time. Why did you let me do that?! You should have stood up and told me it was stupid. You can’t always be worried about people being mad at you!”

This has been a complaint of L’s for some time; that I’m too passive because I don’t want anybody to be mad at me. To a degree I suppose she has a point; I do avoid confrontation and don’t really assert myself unless I’m sure I’m right. But really, I’ve long since stopped trying to tell L what to do because she never listens anyway. I wouldn’t mind her being mad at me if she’d take my advice seriously, but why bother if she’s just going to do what she wanted anyway? She doesn’t want my advice, for the most part; she just wants to hear her own opinion in my voice.

But on this she was dead wrong; I reminded her that I specifically told her it was a dumb idea to give up the job she had here, and that what little she and B were getting along at that time was mostly due to them not being in each other’s ass all day every day. B complained about her being here most days during the week, but even he had to see they got along better with distance between them than they had the previous two years. She agreed, remembering that I had, indeed, said just that, so that ended that line.

Sunday morning the wife got up and hit the bathroom first, then I went in to get my initial morning needs taken care of. When I got out L was in the living room, and hadn’t slept well because of the stress with B (and I found out later also with S to a smaller extent.) The wife asked me to pick up breakfast, and L said she wanted to go, so off we went.

On the way I told L what B had said the night before about putting her stuff out at 6 a.m. (meaning it wasn’t out all night like he’d been telling her). She had forgotten her phone so she didn’t know whether he’d sent her anything else. I told her I’d checked a local U-Haul’s schedule and that they would be open at 9. I’d rent a truck and we’d go get her stuff packed up, and take it to S’s house. It’s what she’d been planning to do the next week; we’d just do it a week earlier. She agreed, and was surprisingly calm (for the moment) and in a better mood than earlier. We also agreed that, despite her misgivings the day before, B had pretty much forced her hand and we’d have to get what stuff we could from the FiL’s little house that morning. We got home, I told the wife the plan, and L and I headed out to get started.

After we got that part done (it turned out to only be six or seven boxes of stuff, not counting furniture L said she’d have to get later on) and we went back by my house to wait until the U-Haul place opened. We were having a pretty good day, talking seriously about things but also making each other laugh with stupid jokes that only we get. Standing in the kitchen, working out plans and stories to tell B (and whoever else needed stories told to them), we also talked about us.

L said she was going to be a good girl, and not be screwing around anymore. I jokingly (well, half-jokingly) said “Okay, but should we maybe do it one last time? You know, just for old time’s sake?” She laughed and apologized and said she couldn’t, and if she did, it would only be out of guilt towards me, and not wanting to disappoint me. I said I understood, and that I didn’t want that under those conditions. I asked if that was what last week was; her giving in to not disappoint me. She immediately said “Oh, no, that was hot! I wanted that.” I smiled, and was relieved.

I took her in my arms and we hugged, and I was tempted to try kissing her but I didn’t. She asked “Okay, what are you going to do now?” I didn’t know what she was referring to, so I was at a loss for an answer. I wanted to say “Kiss you”, but that didn’t seem like a good answer considering what she’d just said. While I burned through some CPU cycles trying to come up with an answer, she said “I mean, do you need to go jack off now?”

“Sure,” I said. “You want to watch?” She said “No”, but she was following me back to the bedroom. I stripped and lay down on the bed, already hard, and started stroking myself. She watched for a moment before coming over and stroking me herself. I asked if she wanted to suck me, and she said no. She did show me her boobs though, and let me play with them and suck her nipples. But she steadfastly refused to do anything beyond playing with my balls while I continued jacking off. When I came, it was like a geyser; L was impressed by the volume and force. I cleaned up and rejoined her in the kitchen, and we went on with the morning as if nothing had happened. It didn’t feel like that would be the last time anything happens, but it’s likely the last time for a while.

Anyway, we went to get the truck but found out it was going to cost quite a bit more than I’d anticipated because of the mileage. Renting a trailer was cheaper, but my Pathfinder doesn’t have a towing package on it so we had to take it to where my wife works to change it out with our Trailblazer. By the time we got back and got the trailer rented and got back on the road, it was11:30. The wife and I were supposed to go to a big family picnic later that afternoon, but it was looking like there was no way we would make it.

On the way to B’s house, the two of them were texting back and forth. B said she didn’t need to rent anything because all she was getting was her clothes which he was setting out. She called him and started screaming at him to leave her stuff alone, but he hung up on her. I reminded her once again that B always does this; gives her a bunch of shit to push her buttons, to get the reaction from her, but he always winds up doing what she wants anyway even when he’s pissed. She was having none of it, and continued the text barrage with him.

Even with the agitation, though, she and I had a good conversation during the long drive, and continued to joke and laugh about things. She mentioned a few times that her stomach felt like it was in knots because of the pending confrontation with B, and I told her not to worry because we would get what we came for. Now I was maybe intentionally giving the false impression that I would somehow make him let us get her stuff, but the truth is I knew (as I’d already told her) that he was going to let her have her way eventually.

When we got there we saw a pile of bags and assorted boxes outside in the driveway, neatly stacked. L marched right in the door (with me close behind) and B said “Get the fuck out!” L screamed that she would not get out, and that she was getting the rest of her stuff. B said no, she wasn’t and said he’d call the cops. I was in the door at that point almost (but not quite) hoping he’d tell me to get out. I had a speech planned for him all about how his bullshit was costing me time and money I didn’t have and blah blah blah, but I never got to use it.

Long story short, we wound up getting everything we came for. B had threatened to keep the furniture L wanted until she paid back some money she owes his son (which she and the son had already worked out between them), but some more shrieking on her part was all it took to shut that down. At every step, when she started packing and loading from a different area, he yell at her to stop but she just kept going and he wouldn’t say another word about it. The one “fuck you” he did get in was to sit on his ass throughout the whole thing while I worked my ass off carrying all her shit. I can’t say I blame him, but for someone who wanted her out so bad, his helped would have made things go a lot quicker.

To be fair, the “fuck you” was to L and not me. If I’d asked for his help, he would have bitched and complained, but he would have helped me. Frankly, though, at that point I didn’t want his help. I knew L and I could get it done, and I wanted her leaving there with the last memory being that he pouted the whole time we did all the work.

Near the end, they’d stopped screaming and were actually somewhat civil. Not nice, mind you, but civil. He and I didn’t say anything to each other (what was there to say, really?) and though he never helped, he didn’t actively get in the way either. When we left, L said if I hadn’t been there he would have been a lot worse, and possibly willing to physically keep her from getting stuff. I don’t know if my presence made that much of a difference or not; like I said, B always winds up doing what L wants him to.

But I do know that there was no way he was going to lay a hand on her under any circumstances while I was there; if he had, he would have gotten hurt. My biggest fear was that L would attack him when we first got there because she was so pissed off, which would leave me trying to get her off him and protecting her from any retaliation but protecting myself from her and him at the same time. Fortunately, none of that happened.

We left and headed for S’s to drop off her things, which went much quicker with S’s help. Plus, we just left things in piles in different rooms, and they would sort it out later. L and I left to take the trailer back and so that she could get her car from my house. She was considerably calmer on the ride, and we held hands when she wasn’t texting with S and her girlfriend. I told her that it was fun to pretend that we were a couple sometimes, and she agreed.

She laughingly said our relationship reminds her of an episode of Friends, where one of the girls dated a guy who lived with his sister. It was obvious that something weirdly intimate was going on with the siblings, until the end (I guess) when the Friend character discovered the two of them were taking a bath together. “So are we just some fucked-up-in-the-head psychos or something?” she asked. She was laughing when she said it, but I could hear the underlying seriousness of the question.

“No, L, I don’t think so,” I said. “We have a weird relationship, and even if we never do anything again it won’t change that we have a connection that’s beyond normal. Other people might not see it that way, but we aren’t hurting anybody as long as they don’t know, and to be honest I like it.” After a moment of thought, L said “I do too.” We spoke a lot more about things, but that was, I guess, all that we really needed to say on that topic.

We dropped off the trailer then headed to the house so L could get her car. She had Verizon change her cell number because B started in on her again with the shitty texts, then we took the stuff in the Nissan and put it in the basement. She left, and the wife and I had some dinner.

Later that night she sent me a touching text, thanking me for all my help and for always being there for her. Then she started complaining about her things being spread out all over, and I advised her to just focus on getting enough together for work the next day and to take a break. We’d both had a long, hard day and she needed to rest. She said that was a good idea, and that’s exactly what she’d do.

I wish I could be confident that L and S will work out, but I’m not. I’ve already had to head off one near disaster this morning; L was almost hysterical, saying she couldn’t put up with his shit and wanted to move back. I called her on my way to work and listened to her scream about all his faults (no organization, no plans for the future, won’t help out by doing dishes, etc.) I tried to calm her my usual way, gently reminding her that it takes time and that she’s just panicking as usual, but she just kept on and on. She complained about not having her own place, and how it would be better staying with B because at least he acted like an adult.

I’d had enough and said “Yea, but you’re miserable with him and he’s abusive! For all S’s faults he hasn’t hit you, and you aren’t even giving him a chance! You want everything to be perfect right now, and it’s just not going to happen; yes, he has to be willing to make some compromises, but you do too! Meanwhile, you keep running back and forth and you aren’t getting anywhere, and you won’t until you stop long enough to get your feet under you!

“You say you love S and think you can be happy with him, and I believe that. But then at the first sign that he isn’t doing things exactly the way you want, you bolt back to B. Then you’re miserable but try to hang on there until you can’t stand it anymore. You go back to S expecting him to have somehow magically changed to what you want him to be, but how can he? You don’t stick around long enough to teach him what you need from him, and he’s not going to pick it up on his own. Give him a fucking chance!” Honestly, I did not want to think about having to pack all her shit again and move it somewhere else!

I make it sound like an elegant soliloquy, but the truth was my tirade was frequently interrupted by her outbursts, and it wasn’t near as smooth as I wrote it. But it’s my story, and I’m the hero, so I get the elegant soliloquy. It’s a pretty faithful rendering of the gist, at least.

By the end, she was agreeing with me and completing my sentences, as if she understood what I was trying to say. She said S was calling and she had to go, but she was considerably calmer. Later she told me that she and S had talked and come to some agreements; he was going to buy some items to help organize her things and he would start doing dishes. He has a long way to go, but it’s a start at least. I suggested that S and I needed to meet for dinner or a beer sometime and L thinks that’s a good idea.

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