Chapter 25

Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence

H.L. Mencken (1880-1956)

From:

Subject:  Re:

To:

I’ve been feeling pretty “bleh” lately, myself.

By the time you read this, I’m probably going to either have been fired or quit my job outright. On Friday afternoon, while I was sitting in the hospital with Jimmy for the THIRD straight week, I received a message from my agency that I had been “reported” by the hospital staff for sleeping on the job. I still can’t believe this. It’s not as if I’d brought a cot and a sleeping bag into the place. I was just sitting in a chair with my arms folded and I must have nodded off at the wrong point. Anyway, to make it short and sweet, this sort of infraction is historically used as a means to FIRE someone’s unfortunate ass, and yet I don’t give a crap. I’ve been instructed to report to the main office on Monday morning rather than go straight to the clinic like I usually do. What do you think the odds are that I’m going to set my alarm clock and make sure I make it to the office on time? DUH! NOT! On Monday, I’m not going to even attempt to get out of bed. Screw it. If I’m fired, then they can call me and fire me. I’m not disrupting my god damned day just to have my job handed to me with a handshake and a wink and a “seeya.” I knew I was fired the minute I got that phone call on Friday. The whole thing SUCKS. Needless to say, I didn’t bother staying at the hospital on Friday when I heard what was going on. I just got up from my chair and shook Jimmy’s hand and said, “Well, man, I don’t know if we’re going to see each other any time soon. Take care of yourself.” And I left. 

I can’t help but think this is all for the best. Without a kick in the ass to get myself in gear, I’d fall back into the day-to-day Jimmy thing and one or two or three years from now I’d be sitting here doing the same ol’ god damned thing. Still, it bothers me. My parents both know what’s going on and they’re both ELATED that I’m quitting this stupid job once and for all. Or being fired… or whatever is happening. 

It’s one AM. I’m supposed to be at “work” in eight hours. I’m not even going to give them a chance to fire me. I’m walking into that building with a lengthy written resignation letter explaining why I can’t work under such circumstances anymore. I’m not going to blame anyone or point any fingers or anything like that. I’m just going to be cordial and nice and say “good-bye” as best I can. What else can I do? Huh? What else?

“The sun is not yellow, it’s chicken!”

Ponder that…

Rutherford

Lori sat across from Angela. She stared down at a full plate of fettuccini and picked at it with her fork. 

“Eat, will you?” Angela said, smiling at her. 

Lori started to chew on a chunk of garlic bread. 

Angela wiped some grease off of the corner of her mouth. She pushed her plate of spaghetti a couple of inches toward the middle of the table. “I’m starting to get full,” she mumbled, wiping crumbs off of her lap with a napkin.

Lori lifted her fork up and then placed it down next to her plate. She clasped her fingers together. 

“Can I talk to you about Rutherford?” Angela asked. 

“He said you both aren’t talking… again.”

“Rutherford’s really messed up. He’s really disturbed. Lori, I find him absolutely evil.”

“He got caught sleeping during work. Did you know that? He might quit before they have the chance to fire him.”

“I was actually thinking at one point about reporting him to the Department of Social Services, not necessarily on anything specific. Just to protest someone like him being in a position where he’s taking care of someone else. He’s shown that he isn’t even capable of taking proper care of himself!”

“You know,” Lori said. “Neither one of you seems to realize how your fighting affects me. Do you? And it’s not just you. He pulls the same crap with me; making you seem like a lunatic and making me feel badly because of the pain you apparently cause him!”

“Well, what do you want me to do about it? Never mention his name to you? I don’t think a case can be made that I was ever a lunatic in how I dealt with him. That’s just his denial at work… and I think you know it. Are you and I both lunatics for seeing the truth?” She tipped her glass of ice water back into her mouth and stared hard at Lori. 

Lori looked quietly back at her.

“Okay, bottom line. I just don’t see how I’ve hurt Rutherford. All I ever did was react to the pain he caused me. End of story.” She stabbed a pile of spaghetti and twisted it fast around her fork. She shoved more food than she was capable of eating quickly into her mouth, and tried chewing on it. She grabbed for a napkin and pressed it against her lips, and spit some of the spaghetti back out into it.

Lori was silent. She started to play with the dangling fringes of the tablecloth.

Angela pinched the edge of her plate. She pulled it closer to her, and then fingered a piece of garlic bread before slowly bringing it to her lips. “I know that Rutherford mistreated me far more than I ever mistreated him. In fact, anything I ever did that caused him to label me ‘pathological’ or a ‘lunatic’ was in reaction to crap he pulled on me. I think he’s finally seeing it the way it is, and that’s why he’s been apologizing up and down all over the place.” She shut her eyes for a split second. “I guess what I’m confused about is, even though he’s your friend, why wouldn’t you have just taken a stand on my behalf when I first started to complain about him? Sometimes, even if someone is your friend, you have to be willing to tell them when they are being an ass. But, I’m getting the feeling that because you seem angry with me that you think I’m an ass too! And I haven’t done anything but try to be a good, caring friend to Rutherford. I just feel like I can’t win …”

“Could you at least consider just distancing yourself from this guy who’s upset you so much, so many times?”

Angela took a sip of water.

Lori continued, “Because it only ends up hurting me, to see you both hurting each other. That is, unless deep down you are enjoying the pain. And if that’s the case, Angela, then I’m gonna have to ask you not to mention him to me again. Because the whole dynamic between you guys really disturbs me. You both tried friendship a few times, but realized that you’re very different people who clash on a lot of different levels. It’s not fun for me. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”

Angela put the glass of water to her lips again and tilted it slowly back. She swallowed hard. “I honestly don’t think I’m looking to be abused, even ‘deep down.’ You forget. I got rid of this guy a long time ago, and I felt good about that. Then, after a conversation or two with you, I was convinced that maybe he’d changed enough for us to be friends. I tried, but quickly found out yeah, he’d changed, but not for the better. I think I’ve protected myself enough not to get nearly as hurt as before. But yeah, you’re right when you say that he knows how to press my buttons and cause me pain. I don’t know what to do now because I do have a heart, and he keeps pleading with me not to ‘drop him’ again!”

Lori rubbed her eyes with her fingertips and then moved her palms over her cheeks. For some reason her entire face had become itchy. “Look, I can’t tell you what to do. I can only tell you that the way you two shoot the daggers at each other and then come running to me every time really hurts me. Can you see that? Can he see that?”

Angela set her glass down and slid it next to her plate. “Okay. I’m sorry for having done anything to hurt you with my relationship with him. I guess I just figured my complaints were totally justified, and couldn’t see how that’d hurt you. I’ve never been able to make that connection, and I’m still finding it hard to understand.”

“Look,” Lori said. “I just feel like my friendship with Rutherford has been taking some pretty hard hits with all of this. I see it as being mainly his fault, for continuing this push-pull thing with you … knowing he’s pissing you off, and then apologizing, and then trying to suck you in again. But Angela, there’s the ‘batterer’ and the ‘battered.” And after a while you have to take responsibility for being the one who keeps allowing herself to get sucked back in.”

Angela smirked.

Lori smirked back. “I know what you’re thinking. Just… give me a break here. You know I’m trying to work through my own problems.”

They both ate silently. Lori paused in between tiny bites of her food. “I guess what I’m having a problem with is that there’s a big difference between me listening to Rutherford go on with his false bravado crap and escapades with married women and harlots and whoever, and me being put in a position where I have to hear how he’s mistreating a good friend of mine. Do you want me to say something to him?”

“No, please don’t say anything to him,” Angela said. She pushed her chair out from underneath the table. “I feel that I’m only trying to do the ‘right thing’ with Rutherford. I’ve been trying to ‘forgive and forget’ when it comes to him, but right now I’m feeling that I should have just stuck with my original thoughts … that he didn’t deserve one single bit of my friendship. I don’t know what to do, I really don’t.  I did offer to meet with him, face to face. He said there’s a lot he wants to get off his chest.”

Lori remained silent.

“This shouldn’t be your battle,” Angela said.  “And I’m really sorry for having dragged you into this, and I’m feeling really, really bad.”

Lori picked her fork up and started to spear a single strand of pasta that was dangling off the edge of her plate. 

Angela glanced quickly up at her and then lowered her eyes to the table. Her tone softened. “Can we switch topics?”

“Sure,” Lori said.

“Listen, I don’t want to play mother and have you get all mad at me. But let me just say this. First of all, I think you are a beautiful girl. Not only that, I think you’re unique-looking.”

“Thanks,” Lori said.

“But if you continue with your bad habits- The way you eat, no exercise … you’re going to start looking old before your time. As it is, and I say this with love, so don’t get upset with me … Every time I see you, you look drawn and tired. And you usually have dark circles under your eyes. Actually, you do right now.”

Lori lifted her hand up to her face, and pressed her fingertips lightly against one of her lower lids.

“I always think to myself, ‘God, if I had her looks, I’d do everything to preserve them.’ As it is,” Angela continued, “I don’t think I am bad-looking… but I know I could look so much better if I were thinner and in better shape. I’m getting there, but damn it, I wish I’d started when I first started noticing the weight a few years ago. I just want you to take care of yourself. Trust me, time goes by faster the older you get, and you don’t want to reach your mid-twenties and be staring at the reflection of a much older woman.”

Lori kept her head bowed toward the dangling strand of fettuccini and continued to stab it mercilessly with her fork.

“I hope you’re not upset with me,” Angela said. “I’m only telling you this because I care about you.”

“No, I’m fine,” Lori said.

“Vitamins are the way to go, Lori,” Angela said. “By just taking simple vitamins, my energy levels have soared. Even my mood’s lifted up. I stopped taking Lexapro two weeks ago, and you know what? Don’t miss it for a second. And I’m sure I’m doing my body a hell of a lot more justice. Who knows what those medicines end up doing to your brain after a while. Just take vitamins… as many as will fit in the palm of your hand, every morning. It’ll transform you, Lori. I swear it will.”

The waitress came by the table and began clearing away their dishes. Lori asked her to wrap up her virtually untouched platter of food, and watched the strand of pasta that she had mutilated fall off the edge of the plate into a heap on the tablecloth.  

From:

Subject:  Hump the WHAT?

To:

Well, well, well. In a word, yesterday I tendered my resignation from my job. For two days I didn’t call in or show up, and none of those clowns ever even called me to find out where the hell I was. In a word, I’m now jobless, penniless (except for a couple thousand dollars… which will disappear QUICKLY, I’m sure). And I’ve got this weird bruise on my left leg that I can’t remember how it happened. Good grammar. If you can set me up with some broadcasting work that’d be great. Tell those guys at the station that you know a complete psycho who could revolutionize the radio world. Tell them I’m DANGEROUS. Tell them I’m wanted in several states for attempted murder, grand larceny, and dancing with a mailman. Speaking of “psychos,” yesterday I got a call from Jill for the first time in I can’t remember when. We were both busy at the time, but we’re planning on having along talk tonight. Actually, it was nice to hear her voice again. I wonder if this is destined to go anywhere. I’ll always have a “soft-spot” for her, for whatever reason. I’d like to say “can we just skip the crap and hop into bed, for Christ’s sake?” but I don’t want to be too hasty or over-aggressive.

I will speak with thou soon.

Rutherford

(stay tuned for chapter 26…)

Here is a link to a real-life illustration of a challenging relationship dynamic, entitled “Reeling.”

And here are some other interesting and pertinent links:

DeMars Coaching – YouTube (DeMars Coaching)

Surviving Narcissism – YouTube (Dr. Les Carter)

NARCDAILY- You Are Not Alone – YouTube (NARCDAILY- You Are Not Alone)

Lisa A. Romano Breakthrough Life Coach Inc – YouTube (Lisa A. Romano Breakthrough Life Coach Inc)

DoctorRamani – YouTube (DoctorRamani)