gin and tonic

Berkeley, Aug. 28

I wish I could be a creature in silk for you.

I wish I could be a taut limb to kiss and linger upon. A bared collarbone, a shoulder, the subtle back of a knee.

I wish I could be the one whose touch electrifies, the pulse to inspire.

I wish I could be the keeper of your desire; capture it, bottle it, taste it on my tongue, savor it for all time.

But…

I am the girl who wakes up beside you and greets you each day with a smile and a kiss.

I am the girl who makes the coffee and the gin and tonic and keeps both stocked in the cabinet.

I am the girl who plans and cooks the meals and sits opposite you while sharing our days.

I am the girl who waits patiently for your return while planning our weekend getaways.

I am the girl who shares my secrets, hears your pains, and keeps our dreams in hopes of what may be.

I am this plebeian reality; not the creature of dreams, but I will give you all.

I wish, oh, how I wish I could.

Berkeley, Aug. 13

What I write now is very difficult, painful even.

Yesterday, as J and I sat awaiting our train into the city, a man stepped off the opposite platform and was run over by the oncoming train.

There was yelling and the blaring of the train horn, but I knew, just knew, when I saw the yelling man turn his head away with a shake, that it had been too late.

I instinctively rose from my seat and was drawn to the stopped train, trying to find a way to help, to stop what was happening. I was shaking all over as I asked the train’s driver if he was okay. He nodded, resigned, but had his procedures to undergo and I stepped away to leave him to it.

J tried to pull me away, but I wouldn’t have it. In my mind, I hoped I’d been wrong or that maybe it wasn’t a man, but a rat instead that someone saw or, though awful still, perhaps a bird or dog. I was assured by the man who had tried to stop the train that it was certainly the worst.

And then our train to the city arrived and we stumbled aboard, stunned and at a loss of what to do otherwise. I leaned into J’s neck and quietly began to sob uncontrollably, uncaring who saw me or found me odd for doing so. It had all happened in a matter of two minutes at most. Just like that.

A strong gin and tonic awaited me once we arrived at the symphony, along with the unexpected news that the suicide attempt had been unsuccessful. There would be relief, but for that long train ride, I felt all too keenly what that man had done. Had tried to do.

He is a 65 year old man who left his cane on the platform, rolled off the side, then lay down in the center of the train tracks, where the train ultimately trapped, but avoided killing him.

I’ve never felt such relief in someone’s hopes being dashed.

Berkeley, July 30

Days slipped by obliquely, with little to remember, just the familiar dent in the sofa cushions…If I kept going, I thought, I’d disappear completely, then reappear in some new form. This was my hope. This was the dream.   –My Year of Rest and Relaxation

I think Ottessa Moshfegh may be a bad influence.

I said “fuck it” after sitting in the same chair working without a break from 9 to 4:30 again today, poured myself a gin and tonic, and brought it into the shower for company. I haven’t showered in three days. Besides, isn’t gin meant to be in a bathtub, or something?

The condensation on the sides of the highball were lovely to the touch, as was the cool clink of the ice cubes and the crisp quinine of the tonic on my tongue in contrast to the humid flux of the shower spray. Yes, gin is best enjoyed in the bath it turns out.

Hours spent sitting in the same attitude had atrophied my muscles and the hot water and cold cocktail worked their magic.

Spruced up, now I’m off to the Safeway to buy something else to buoy the spirit. Wine? Peonies? Twizzler Pull ‘n Peels? All three? I loathe the queue of elderly I’m sure to find there, let alone the judgement of the sales clerk for my being back again in less than 24 hours with such a milieu of items.

My bottles clinking in my shopping basket, admittedly, I’d rather buy Monistat cream, even with the special call button requiring them to unlock the case these days.

At least then they won’t look you in the eye.