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solstice: Sigh Mere | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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›comments[0] ›all comments ›post #935 ›bio: kristen ›perma-link ›7/13/2026 ›18:24 ›archives ›first post ›that week
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she was currently irritated with her mother. it might even be low key simmering for decades rage, but it made her feel like shit to imagine it. the woman was old. she had tried her very best. Christi got lots of money and security from the endeavor. to perform. more accurately, to calibrate to the other. it was tiring. she was tired of it. she wondered if her mother had known she had named this last born third child after Christ. the story had gone that she had seen the name in birth announcements and thought it was pretty. Christi was always way deeper - allways. It came naturally. but she wishes she could turn it off. the others seemed so much more content. it was her mom's birthday - the 87th. Christy had invited Noel. she liked their names because they both kind of meant the same thing. He had even mentioned it once, and she had been surprised he had noticed. the weekend before, they had been in Florida - doing what she always tells you - like it was some fucking perfect myth or something. it was fantastic, but it wasn't perfect at all. She loved when he started the road trip to get his mother's money off with, "is this what it's going to be like the whole trip." she had been excited and was performing and talking. she immediately adjusted. Later, she wished she had said, "maybe. I don't know." instead she did I'm sorry. she was used to it. she had already stopped wearing the t-shirts and liking her music because he had said "you dress like a hipster. I bet everything you wear has some memory or meaning to it." She also wishes she could have thought/said, "why is that a bad thing." the music had been more of a blow, but instead of disagreeing, "I guess I'm tired of it all too. I've been in a rut, and I lost all my playlists and music in the last divorce." she was ashamed of being divorced twice, but he didn't seem to mind that part - partly because his beloved ex-wife who made him perhaps such a dick with women - or was it his mother - had tried another relationship after him "like the Brady bunch" but had failed also. he never tried. he liked his life and was just looking for some Forrest Gump experiences to round it out before he bought a shack in New Jersey and retired smug and joining a chess team or maybe a reading group. He didn't know. he had tried photography classes several times, but she had never seen him take a foto. She loved taking fotos, but all the few she had of him were of his hand or his bored smirk. she caught him smiling only once, and that was their first date. Oh wait, he had also smiled in the cheesy small town Christmas decorations she had taken him to to pass the time. but for now, they were at her mother's birthday party. It was awesome revenge for Christy. instead of her being the usual awkward single person, her mother was. Christy even said the words, "now you'll get to see how I feel all the time." Those things were better with a companion who you could turn to at the end of the night and go "these people - my family. thank you so much for coming. you made it so much more bearable, and you're fun." that first night, she had been exhausted so many performances to percolate. and she had someone she was falling in love with (or was she in love with him) there - and it was risky, but she felt ok about it because her sister was rich and it might impress him. she had learned the previous weekend that money really put him in a great mood. for Christy, she wondered if t was more about the safety than it was about the 'fuck you' money she always wished she had - the security. sometimes a dude could give her that - but it was so boring to always get worth and validation from the fact that you had snared a man. she used to even say what she wanted using her husband as a prop so it would be addressed more. as a child, her sister had called her "bossy" and "a little brat." she wondered if she had been or if she had just been kind of a natural leader. it was hard to tell. it never really felt like anyone really liked her - except now her brother was all that was left - someone she felt comfortable with. maybe it was the pot. "let's go ride in the golf cart" Leon said. She admitted she had never driven a golf cart. He replied, "well, you're driving then." She thought she wasn't very good at it, but it was later that she learned the cart needed fixing. her brother told her. she felt safe with him, and it was so much fun to get loose and not give a fuck. it lasted a bit - until the sister and the millionaire third husband arrived. it was their house after all, but they didn't want to stay too long. they were headed to a football game. her sister had bought three dresses and gave Christy the two she didn't want. they were always very generous. it sucked to be the one who was the recipient. she wasn't great at receiving gifts. it was so much easier to be the "I'll get the tab" person. maybe a little bit of power. the next day, Leon watched football like he liked. he drank tequila that she had bought him. he smoked a bit of a joint. but in the bed that nigh, it still didn't loosen up. she had fucking cried in Florida because it had been so odd, who the fuck doesn't cuddle or do sweet words with someone they like. she concluded he either didn't like her or she just needed time before he's loosen up - with her - and say something kind of - dare she ask - romantic. or perhaps reach for her hand. He had touched her on the small of the back once - one time. it was her favorite way to be touched. she kind of was a cunt about it and pretended that she was startled and was glad it was him. she spoke passive aggressive fluently. she learned from the best - la mere. so they spent time together. the family fished. they talked. she swam. and then he left to go back to work. she was convinced that someone who did not like her would not drive every weekend to see her - two hours at the minimum each way. this trip had been six. and when he kissed her, it was always like kissing something swollen, and not like a good dick - swollen as in numb. and she waited and waited and waited for the thaw. it never came, and she kept performing. she fucking hated being fake. it was better to be alone when she could stop that shit. but she didn't know how to feel safe unless she had a tiny bit of power - security. with Leon, it would have to be self-generated. she loved that. it was going to be awesome to have someone who didn't fall for her manipulations to get security, but then it just kept being the same thing. finally, the mom said, "I just don't see why you like him." Christy just replied, "I'm not surprised" or rather she wished she had said that. instead, she was aghast and spent paragraphs proclaiming his misunderstood self, "besides, he clocked you for a narcissist, and I loved him for THAT." and days passed and more dates. more conversation. it never deepened. he always kept back, and she only on the last day broke and said, "why don't you ever touch me. I like you more than you like me." he replied, "it's not my fault." then he left to get coffee. he brought two back, and made her notice he didn't forget her. and she replied, "well, you would be an outright bastard had you not -but thanks." "Did I make it the right way?" "Luckily for you, I take my coffee all ways." he sat down next to the record player in the fancy hotel room her sister had bought them for Christmas. He didn't say "you exhaust me", but she felt it. she exhausted herself, so she understood. soon she'd be alone a lot and could castigate herself enough to maybe be able to compensate. it wasn't her fault, but... and here she was all alone and it was six months and some change since that convo. he had dumped her finally. she had been relieved - no more ambiguity. then she had gone mad a little bit. she always did when another pseudo-daddy left. she'd been auditioning them for decades. it was time to grow up. she hoped she was doing it, but whatever. it wasn't like she could go "grow up!" "Let go!" "move on!" and have it happen. mostly, she wanted a huge amazing salad. she sucked at making salads (always putting too many ingredients in?). she sucked at cleaning a house. she liked maids and restaurants. who didn't. and it was over. she so knew it was over, but it wasn't really over. she got up and pet the cat that was laying on top of the bear chair and sat down and analyzed - or rather had the robot analyze. and on and on she was willing to pay for that salad too. she had tried every place in the small town, and they all sucked. the struggle was unreal. she should really cook, but she had to get out of this fucking house. besides, she was done cleaning dishes for the day. done but she ended up being frugal and made beans and avocado and re-discovered the manchego cheese does not melt and cheap cilantro can taste like grass. she finally called her mother, and at the end of the brother discussion, "oh, I don't know. I guess I just feel like everything will be ok. I just don't let things upset me." "god mother. if you could only fucking feel a feeling one day. fuck." "you're too sensitive." "actually, I'm too anticipatory. I get it from being raised in a war zone where I definitely did not speak the language. now, I'm trying to untangle all that shit so I can love someone without going - here let me slice my neck open for you and bleed all over you and you can call that a vulnerable gift." "I don't know what you're talking about. you had a great childhood - especially compared to your brother and sister." Christi hated her name, but that's what she was called. she closed her eyes and asked something she'd never asked, "would you like to know what I'm talking about? really?" her mother sighed, "not really." "you and Leon should have liked each other better. you're both the same. two super cool amazing people under a fucking plexiglass barricade. bye." "bye twister. see you next week."
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