“She’s still out there,” I say, looking out the front window of the house. “Rolling on the doormat, lookin’ all cute.”Preppy looks up from his work at the coffee table.
“Topher, I swear if you feed that damn cat she will never leave and there will be hell to pay. And don’t get any ideas about doing it while I’m at work because I already counted the cans of tuna in the pantry.”
“But she’s hungry, baby. And she’s adorable.”
“Of course she’s adorable, darlin’. She’s a kitten. That’s all a kitten knows how to be. But we’re not taking on some mangy stray, so let it go. You do this every time you see a stray cat or those orphans on TV, and you always forget how kids and animals get on your nerves after a few hours.”
All of this is true. Last weekend I worked as a technician on a film set. There was a baby in the movie. By the end of day two, I was fully prepared to become a parent.
Thank God I don’t have a uterus.
I know in my heart of hearts I’d be one of those trailer trash mothers who keeps getting knocked up just because she thinks babies are cute.
Even if I could talk Preppy into letting me feed the kitten, it’s not like I could take care of her. I’ve been cast in a play that’ll be touring the country for seven months, beginning in November. I’ll return just in time to get married in June, which I find more than a little alarming. I’d expected all of our wedding plans would be done spread out over the dining room table, the two of us carefully plotting each detail and arguing over cuts to the guest list. Now all that’s gonna happen via phone and e-mail while I’m lodging at a series of La Quinta Inns in minor Red State cities.
This is, quite simply, not the level of control I wish to have over the whole affair.
Being gone for so long worries me. This week, a couple we’re friends with broke up, and I honestly never saw it coming. It shook me up more than I expected. They seemed to really love and dote on each other, and I had every expectation that they were looking forward to a bright future together. When I found out, I asked way too many questions, because I needed to know what the cracks in their foundation were. Where did things go wrong? I couldn’t accept the trite explanation of, “Sometimes these things don’t work out.” I needed to know why. Those boys were seeing each other every day, and couldn’t make it happen. How will I maintain a relationship from hundreds of miles away?
I never got a satisfactory answer from either of them.
“You think you’ve got it bad?” says my sister Shannon on the phone the next morning. “My husband was at WAR, for God’s sake. For over a YEAR.”
It’s so unfair, Shannon being able to play the war card. No matter how bad things are for me, she’ll whip out that whole homefront drama while her husband was off saving America. How the hell am I supposed to argue with that? It’s like Sarah Palin with her damn special needs baby. Back that woman into a corner, and she’ll shift the topic back there somehow.
Even if I could talk Preppy into letting me feed the kitten, it’s not like I could take care of her. I’ve been cast in a play that’ll be touring the country for seven months, beginning in November. I’ll return just in time to get married in June, which I find more than a little alarming. I’d expected all of our wedding plans would be done spread out over the dining room table, the two of us carefully plotting each detail and arguing over cuts to the guest list. Now all that’s gonna happen via phone and e-mail while I’m lodging at a series of La Quinta Inns in minor Red State cities.
This is, quite simply, not the level of control I wish to have over the whole affair.
Being gone for so long worries me. This week, a couple we’re friends with broke up, and I honestly never saw it coming. It shook me up more than I expected. They seemed to really love and dote on each other, and I had every expectation that they were looking forward to a bright future together. When I found out, I asked way too many questions, because I needed to know what the cracks in their foundation were. Where did things go wrong? I couldn’t accept the trite explanation of, “Sometimes these things don’t work out.” I needed to know why. Those boys were seeing each other every day, and couldn’t make it happen. How will I maintain a relationship from hundreds of miles away?
I never got a satisfactory answer from either of them.
“You think you’ve got it bad?” says my sister Shannon on the phone the next morning. “My husband was at WAR, for God’s sake. For over a YEAR.”
It’s so unfair, Shannon being able to play the war card. No matter how bad things are for me, she’ll whip out that whole homefront drama while her husband was off saving America. How the hell am I supposed to argue with that? It’s like Sarah Palin with her damn special needs baby. Back that woman into a corner, and she’ll shift the topic back there somehow.
Jesus, lady. We get it, we get it.
“But how did you keep things stable while he was gone? And don’t tell me it was by thinking about his sacrifices and bravery, because that doesn’t make up for the fact that there’s nobody to watch movies with and it doesn’t make you any less horny.”
“Well, duh,” says Shannon. “That’s why you send naked pictures.”
“That did it? For a whole year? Adding photos to the spank bank kept your marriage alive?”
“Hell yeah. Get creative. The tricky part is getting into your pose in ten seconds, before the timer goes off, but I’ll bet you can do it.”
Since I met Preppy, I’ve placed a lot of faith in face-to-face contact smoothing just about anything over. If we argue on the phone, I know once we sit down and talk it out it’ll all be okay. And if I have a crappy day, I’ve got seeing him to look forward to. Taking this much time away from our life means giving up those things for a while, and having faith that everything will still be in place when I return. That whatever “doesn’t work out” in some relationships won’t happen while I’m not looking.
“I guess I’m just worried Preppy might forget why he loves me without me there to remind him every day.”
There’s a long pause.
“That’s so pitiful I don’t even know how to respond,” says Shannon.
“I don’t wanna leave town if it’s gonna hurt us. Preppy says it won’t, but how does he know?”
“All you know is what you want. And what the two of you want is to get married next June and grow old and ugly together. But you won’t find out what happens until you go. And you can’t stay in his face forever.”
“I know, but I was gonna try.”
I get off the phone and sign the contract for the tour. As I take it to the mailbox, I notice the kitten took the hint. She’s moved on, leaving me with the hope that she’ll be fine without me.
“But how did you keep things stable while he was gone? And don’t tell me it was by thinking about his sacrifices and bravery, because that doesn’t make up for the fact that there’s nobody to watch movies with and it doesn’t make you any less horny.”
“Well, duh,” says Shannon. “That’s why you send naked pictures.”
“That did it? For a whole year? Adding photos to the spank bank kept your marriage alive?”
“Hell yeah. Get creative. The tricky part is getting into your pose in ten seconds, before the timer goes off, but I’ll bet you can do it.”
Since I met Preppy, I’ve placed a lot of faith in face-to-face contact smoothing just about anything over. If we argue on the phone, I know once we sit down and talk it out it’ll all be okay. And if I have a crappy day, I’ve got seeing him to look forward to. Taking this much time away from our life means giving up those things for a while, and having faith that everything will still be in place when I return. That whatever “doesn’t work out” in some relationships won’t happen while I’m not looking.
“I guess I’m just worried Preppy might forget why he loves me without me there to remind him every day.”
There’s a long pause.
“That’s so pitiful I don’t even know how to respond,” says Shannon.
“I don’t wanna leave town if it’s gonna hurt us. Preppy says it won’t, but how does he know?”
“All you know is what you want. And what the two of you want is to get married next June and grow old and ugly together. But you won’t find out what happens until you go. And you can’t stay in his face forever.”
“I know, but I was gonna try.”
I get off the phone and sign the contract for the tour. As I take it to the mailbox, I notice the kitten took the hint. She’s moved on, leaving me with the hope that she’ll be fine without me.
