The Slick Adventures of Downtown Girl

Balancing Act

Sunday, April 01, 2007 | posted by Kate | permalink | |

Every time it rains I listen to the sky
And wonder what's so great about sunshine
Everybody lives and everybody dies
And no one's gonna love you like I do

Hey, sweetie:

I'm supposed to come back over and see you at some point tonight. I got all of my stuff together as of 30 seconds ago. (All of the stuff I'm going to do, anyway.) I even have a bag full of my stuff so I can stay with you and then get ready for work tomorrow morning. I am wearing REALLY CUTE PANTS that say "PINK" on the butt. How cute? They are really, really, REALLY cute. I know that seeing me in them would amuse you. They are so cute they are outlawed in 32 states, to be exact.

You KNEW I was going to be calling you now. I wrote it on that note that I left by your bed when I left your place this afternoon, you feeling sick and laying under the covers (you're obviously not well because normally you would have INSISTED on walking me at least to the door).

When it was getting dark
I didn't need a match
I never needed light to see you
You thought I disappeared
But I was always here
I could never get that far from you

I have told myself all kinds of rational things, like:
You're in the shower.
You're sleeping again, and the REALLY LOUD sound of your phone ringing isn't waking you.
You're sleeping again, and you can't hear the REALLY LOUD (obnoxious) sound of your phone.

And then the irrational things come:
You are in the hospital.
You are totally dying on your rustic hardwood floors and no one is around to help you.

I so TOTALLY cannot be pissed at you for not answering the phone. And I'm not. I'm frustrated. You're sick. But I'm WHINY! I haven't seen you hardly AT ALL in the past week. You have been very apologetic though. When you apologize, I tell you that you can't be sorry for being sick. (I think what your "I'm sorry" means is closer to "I miss seeing you. I'd rather being doing things with you, but I can't," or "I didn't mean to disappoint you. I hate disappointing you.") You have gotten to see that I am still having fun and getting along over here without you. And, you'd be right-I still do have fun and enjoy people when things don't include you. (But I make no mistake: you are my first choice person to spend time with, the one I know I'm going to have the best time with because we're growing into good friends and are already so much more.)

Though I misunderstand
And been misunderstood
So love me 'cause you can
And not because you should

It was a busy week for me, granted. Somehow when I'm busy, though, I get more things done then when I'm not. I do thrive on being busy, somehow the more balls I have in the air, the better I handle all of them. I also have had time to organize myself in here a little more, a little bit of medical school paperwork, a little bit of wardrobe reorganization, putting myself together in a more coherent way. It's April already and baseball starts tomorrow. I have little baseball jerseys that look really sweet, I have a new dress for Easter with a satin bow in the back and three new pairs of lace thongs, I'm comfortable alone but am willing to be better together.

My granddad's birthday is this week. I already mailed his card. I was all over that one.

I keep having these odd dreams at night where I am anxious about finals, about exams, and then panic when I look at a class schedule and realize that I've been enrolled in five or six classes for about three weeks now that I have NEVER attended. I panic and flip through notebooks, praying that I have notes. I never do. I feel ashamed talking to the professors. I wake up, horrified. Being good at organizing myself for school has always been a talent.

It hits me that we haven't really done anything fun, anything "out and about", anything "you and me" for a long time--maybe two or three weeks. We need to fix that. This week when you're better. That dinner and a movie you said you owed me? We've gotta get to it.

I like how you invited me to do things with your family on Easter. I have excitedly told all of my close girlfriends about that one. You noted the fact that I don't have family here. I'd like to think that you are inviting me because you want to include me in on your family stuff, that you want me at your holiday things. That, to you, I'm INVITED TO A HOLIDAY with your FAMILY serious. (If I start to feel like you've invited me because you FEEL SORRY that my family doesn't live here, I'm going to brunch with my friends like I've done before. Where I will wear a gorgeous dress and drink TOO MANY mimosas.) Of course, a hundred times over I'd rather be the blushing, gracious girlfriend, the pretty one at your side over the honeybaked ham and mashed potatoes. I love being your date to things. (*But I want the fact that I'm your date to those things to mean what I want it to mean. See how stubborn I am?) We do make a fabulous public appearance, though, R, like we've been doing it for years. Maybe that's why you want me there. Or maybe you want to see if your Aunt I've heard so much about likes me like the rest of your family does. Either way, I remember that wedding in January, on the way home, how you told me you'd see me across the room and think to yourself that you were glad that I was yours. I believe the exact word you used was, "Mine."

--------
Every time it rains
I know it's good to be alive
Every time it rains
I know I'm trying to survive

You just called me and you are even sicker than when I first visited you this morning. My gut reaction is to be like, "My poor baby! Oh my God!," but you are A GROWN MAN and I know better than to BABY you. Over the course of the conversation I took special care to not sound motherly or tell you what to do, but it was probably still clear that I AM WORRIED. I made sure you had everything you needed, and remembered that you said if something's wrong, you want me to let you handle it. So fine. I'm letting you handle this. (Okay, only because you have plenty of fluids and all of the OTC medication you need.) Of course you don't want me to come and be with you, even though the moral support could do you good, because you don't want me to see you being so sick. I told you that if you reached the point where you didn't want to be alone (which for you would probably be near-death) you should call me or let me know somehow. If you get sicker, please, PLEASE call me. I'll be there.

Love you!
K
(Lyrics from "Everytime it Rains"/Charlotte Martin)