A Circle of Hell:
Last week, I received a text message from an old friend, asking whether I'd be willing to part with a particular jacket of mine.
Actually, first, I should preface what I mean by "old friend," as we've been close for over 12 years. We met in high school, attended the same college, etc.
A few months ago, a misunderstanding regarding my ex-fiance - penultimately causing a significant chunk of flesh being taken out of my back as he literally attempted to throw me out of his parents' home - resulted in my having to punch him in the face before engaging my car's handbrake and floor-boarding down his step-father's long, white-washed driveway.
The wake (or cake, rather) of Continental Touring Radial was not keenly taken-to by his family, nor was my right cross to him.
So... this particular jacket was not one I desired to give away. As per the business student I once had been, I collected three other jackets, knowing that his demand was favorably mutually inclusive to mine. In the long run, he settled with a hand-me-down camel hair jacket that I have always been too small to actually wear - or even tailor accordingly. In turn, I got plant so mediocre, it should've been called Coverdale.
And if the day hadn't already sucked enough balls, upon returning to my apartment, I noticed that one of the remaining jackets contained a wad of paper in the breast pocket. It was every love note I'd written to my ex, chronologically ordered from October 2001 until October 12, 2007. Earlier in that mid-October week I received a call, and I had to go back home. That "episode" did not "go" as initially expressed, but for the sake of brevity and love... well... let's just say nothing's perfect.
When I returned, it's as if my life had been turned upside-down. I didn't live in the same apartment than when I left, and my University forced me to sit-out a semester due to my number of days absent. Moreover, I nearly split my car into two pieces on the freeway while driving to my shrink's office, because the stress I was under had been causing fainting spells.
Then, the veritable tooth-picked olive, piercing through my ham-on-rye shit sandwich, came the afternoon I returned from my second day of class to see that my fiancee had moved-out. She would never accept my calls again; something which I admittedly do not understand, nor have been able to comfortably accept.
Regardless, in order to relocate to a cheaper and smaller apartment, I had to remove her from the lease contract. Because I couldn't relay this to her directly, I asked my "old friend," to do so for me... as they were " still friends." This would allow me to save $1300 in relenting fees.
He told me to "go fuck myself," and in this weird rush of startled indignation, I spit in his face; thus, cue the toss-out, et. al.
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October 12, 2007
My Beautiful Baby,
I may not be home until Sunday, but I'll have my phone with me. I know you understand what I'm going through right now; things have been off-kilter, and I hope it will all work itself out soon. You know how much I love you. Please take this time to spend with yourself. I see changes in your eyes that are making me fall deeper in love every day... which makes me happier than you can imagine. I will use this time, hopefully as contemplation, and to learn to love and appreciate all over again...
Forever,
Ry.