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solstice: Be Excellent 2 Each Other | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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›comments[0] ›all comments ›post #903 ›bio: kristen ›perma-link ›6/16/2026 ›10:24 ›archives ›first post ›that week
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He opened his phone, "what" he spat out. She was shocked. What was he doing answering the phone, that wasn't in her doom script. "seriously. what do you want? you text me. you call me. you write incessantly about me. what do you want me to say? what's my response here? what have you given me? What have you written?" She paused like she had tried to teach herself to do - trusting he wouldn't hang up and would let her slow down, "look, I don't know what I want from you. I don't know what I want you to say. I'm shocked you picked up the phone. I'm glad you picked up the phone. I'm scared I'll fuck up my one shot. I'm sorry I." she paused for once in her life - trying. "I"m sorry I put all my shit onto you and got mad when you threw it back. I'm sorry I wrote stories instead of asking you to tell me it was ok even if I was terrified of the answer..." He cut her off, "stop. I don't care.", he was visibly annoyed, but she couldn't see it. She pictured him in his car, but ... He sighed, "yeah. I know all that. what is there for me to say? what do you want me to say to you? I'm sorry? I said that. That I liked you? I said that. That it's over? I said that. What the fuck more do you need me to fucking say." She was terrified and wanted to hang up and write fifty million words telling the interwebs how tragic and pathetic she was and she always knew they always leave. This was her moment. She was choking. It was ok. She was talking to him finally. "Look, I hear your frustration, and I ... Honestly, what do you think I want you to say? I want you to say 'hello. how's it going. It's been a minute. How many tries did it take you for Wordle today? come here." He laughed, "you're delusional." She said, "I know." He laughed, "look, I'm not trying to be mean. I'm not trying to hurt you. I just don't know how much more clear I can be that I'm not interested in talking to you or talking about this. I don't want to be friends. I don't want to hang out. I thought maybe if I finally picked up the phone, you'd shut the fuck up." she answered, "but you never blocked me." "you hung on to THAT? I was trying to not be an asshole - and to not provoke you into escalating contact with me. that's all. I do not want to talk to you. I do not want to be with you. I do not secretly love you. I liked you kind of once. I thought you were an interesting person, but it's done. I'm sorry. I can't help you. See a therapist. I'm done. I'm done. I'm done. Is that good? do you need some more?" she kind of laughed, "so much more. Look, I'm trying. I hope I learned something - like how to talk." He interrupted. "ok. Listen. who cares. ok. whatever. not interested. why do you think I even care what your fucking process is. You are of no use to me. this conversation is of no use to me. I do not want you - even as an easy fuck. I don't think about you. I delete your messages before I read them. I'm sorry. I know that was mean. but shit. grow up. bye. I wish you well. I hold no ill will towards you. We didn't work. The end. just stop bothering me. please. I'm going to block you after this phomecall, and if you contact me in any other way, I will not respond. do you need ANY more from me? any last words?" she paused as long as she could. what could she say. was there anything. she processed as fast as she could spinning on nothing. fuck. fuck. fuck. "Look. if you're not going to say anything. I've got things to do." she breathed. she pictured him walking in the woods and having a podcast about blue politics and discourse with smart women drinking. she finally answered, "I can't explain..." he replied, "well that's great, because I totally do not need you to. I wish you well. goodbye. I'm sorry." === The peace lily had a new leaf amid all the brown. she'd let the symbol stand. "Why do we wear masks? do we all wear masks?" "Oh you! what a question. Let me get in the car and sit for a minute with you." She was so fucking keyed up. He had just showed up to her sister's place and was going to join her mother's birthday celebration - meet her mother and narcissi's brother and sister-in-law. The BiL and sister would be the next day. Narcissi was wound tighter than an e-string. she was so proud she knew that. and he was there. this dude. meeting her mother. her family. how fucking ballsy. It was a gorgeous day. She had shown her sister-in-law Leon's mother's art. They were in the back of the golf cart. They had arrived at her sister's second home in the low country their parents had taught them to love. "Do you like her art better or his father's?" Her sister in law furrowed her brow - "definitely the mother's." Narcissi made a face. "Interesting, I thought so different. The mother's art makes something ugly arise in me - like r. crumb. I don't like it, but respect. She's famous. His dad's art? now that sticks with me in a good way. It's like clean hilarious and winking." "How long have you been dating Leon? Is that how you say his name?" "yes. he's very sensitive about how you say his name. Thank you. Let's see, it's August 30th, we'll be dating two months September 3rd. God I love him. I'm so scared..." Her sister in law was so caring. She was a cancer. "oh Narcissi. Stop. you are wonderful. He's lucky to know you. Fuck Andrew." The matriarch piped in from the noisy shotgun seat, "what are y'all talking about?" "Leon mother. Leon. It's all I talk about. I'm enchanted." "Oh you're always talking about him. talk about something else." "So, what do you want to do for your birthday day?" They circled back to meet this man. She had never brought someone so close into the circle so surely and so soon. except once... --- Narcissi had brought Leon to Wilmington. He even drove. He even let her drive his car...once and then he was like never again - she didn't break appropriately and he knew he shouldn't have risked trusting someone when he knew it would... and so they had retrieved her credit card from the soup place - chowder dear! - in Carolina Beach. Tonight was the night. It was the last night. They were there. She had shown him the gamut. They had seen flying amazing kites on historic civil war islands. They had eaten excellent oysters and still crappy crab dip. "so, are you shrooming?" Narcissi replied, "no, I don't feel a thing. I guess a micro dose is nothing." She had wanted this to be where the case had been submitted. He had met all the cast. He was in on the major sets. Was he in or out and could he stand it if she actually said what was in her head without editing it for fucking once "we shall see" "So you're not taking any shrooms after all? you're just going to watch tv?" "yeah, it's what I like to do." "but it's our last night." she was strong. "oh well. you do you." "Ok, I'm going to smoke pot and drink whiskey. and I might take a tiny bit of shrooms. but I guess I'll save them." "OK." fast forward four hours. She's dancing on the historic balcony. She has stayed in this place kind of overlooking the river twice before. This place had saved her. It had killed her. the usual when you're going through a divorce that you never .... She's got her headphones on. She's in her stylish perfect comfortable perfect fabric outfit. It was polka dots and stripes and pastels and blacks. soft. and moved easily. She had said to him earlier - just a moment ago, "who are you? what do you really want? do you like me? can I be real with you? I've been sort of keeping myself at bay? I think you are so cool. I feel like Lin and Heather and Mary are so much cooler than me, and I can't imagine why you would like me. Who are you? who are you?" it fried his system the rapid shift of real talk and so fast and furious damn girl, he uttered the words, "you're scaring me." he laughed kindly when he said them. Then he asked "are you all right?" which scared her. Then he said, "you're annoying me." That's when she took the last slug - or maybe the third last slug - of whiskey and harrumphed upstairs to sleep in the other bedroom like the wounded masters in counseling she was. She was convinced he had uttered a truth about her: showing herself meant she was not going to get people she cared about to love her. she lost people because there was something they didn't like in her - a monster behind a smile. she didn't fucking know and just crashed on the soft bed. fuck it. ouch. he didn't kiss her until the next morning. on the landing after he had refused her naked body and they were doing the dummy check in the house. he lifted her head up and kissed her. he had never done that before. "like you care." "I care." they lasted about thirty-nine more days. He brought her mead for her birthday in a golden pantry bag. she melted. nothing could get through her own wall though the one she never told him she had. nothing yet. "my father is locked down there with me. I make up stories that I'm unloveable to make sense of what happened to me. I went over it in IFS therapy -which as a drama person I loved but found slightly dangerous/made-up? - I feed this chained monster through a hole in the wall in the dungeon and upstairs outside through the wall is sunshine and a play swing set, but I can't leave them. There are two monsters down there, the father locked up in the wall and the gimp that lives in the plastic gimp suit under the outhouse and gets all the house's the family's shit on them. she can't leave them. she has to water one and witness the other. there. now you know. I have a really hard time not running away when someone I care about says even the strongest thing about me. I was famous for never getting spanked because I cried very sincerely and passionately when someone even raised their voice to me. It's hard to remember that's not true. you don't get to say I suck and I have to believe it because I love you. I get to say 'ouch what do you mean; or something I guess..." "we all have something." "tell me about yours. I can't wait to hear..." they made love forever and she drank excellent beer. the the rainy days were excellent "can we listen to billie holiday today instead of van Morrison? I'm going to dj." "let's just listen to the rain." "well, ok. for a little bit." "you don't have to say it." "I know."
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