Bird As Fish

It was dark. I was hot with my leather coat on. We were laughing and walking down that street that was to become so familiar to us. Hitch was a funny movie, but what amazed him most of all was my laughing. I'm not so sure why he like me laughing so much.

"You liked that movie then?" he asked, sounding pleased with himself. He knew that he did not need to ask, but he wanted to hear it from me.

"I loved it!" It practically exploded out of my mouth. I was a little nervous, I knew, and nervousness always caused words to sound like they were trying to escape from my mouth. "It was so funny when his face swelled up." I laughed. "Or remember when all you saw was him talking to that girl through the peep hole! What was your favourite part?" I asked, partly in an effort to stop the effluence of words that I knew where bursting out of my mouth like mice out of a drainage pipe.

"I liked the part when he was coaching that other guy and told him when going in for a kiss, never go in all the way. When he said, 'A real man only goes in 90%. He lets the woman go the rest of the way.' ". I laughed.

It was late. We were passing by the downtown streets, bathed in yellow street lamp light, and misted lightly by the steam that seemed to perpetually diffuse out the manhole covers, bringing us the very air of an underground kingdom we knew nothing about. We passed over the bridge that separated downtown from the Village, where I lived. I always liked that road. It told me that I was almost home. It passed right by the park, where the trees grew tall and strong, as if they didn't know they were in the middle of the big city. The forest on the left, growing right up to the sidewalk, pushing the sidewalk aside, slowly and gently creeping into the Village. The lamplights were dull here, and I could not see him very clearly. Just his black, glossy hair and his soft lips and the collar of his shirt.

We turned off the main road onto my little street. I felt quite pretty, and hoped that my earrings sparkled in the dim light. We walked past the gingerbread house, passed the house with a garden full of ornamental cabbages, and straight to the old, tall, yellow-bricked house with the stuffed monkey on the porch, and the hanging basket of fake poinsettias. We walked past the landlord's cars: one, two, three, four, and down the crunching gravel on the drive. The door at the very back was mine, but it was pitch black back here - the night light had been broken since I'd moved in. I told Rick to wait and I would open the door and turn on the light so he could see. I fumbled a moment with my keys and then managed to find the lock. Voila, the lights were on in less than a second and the sunrise painted on the door was visible.

Rick smiled at me. I held the painted door open for him. He came in and took off his shoes.

"Umm, could you help me with my coat?" I asked, a little embarrassed. He took it off my shoulders and handed the coat to me. We talked for a little while about little trifles, sitting on my daybed. He asked if Iiked him. And then he touched my knee - an innocent, but a gentle touch, not wanting anything more. I smiled.

"You'd better get going," I said, "you've got to work in the morning." He agreed to my enormous relief and disappointment.
He took his keys off the ironing board that was doubling as the kitchen table and put on his shoes once again.

"Walk me to the van?" he asked.

"Sure," I replied and I did so.

We stood once again in the dim light, several bodies apart. I don't know if we stood apart because it was so awkward or if it was awkward because we stood so far apart, but suddenly, he took a step towards me and looked at me, shyly.

"So," he said, "I go 90%..." I blushed suddenly. He wanted to kiss me! I quickly looked down and shook my head and said, "Nah." I'm sure he looked disappointed, but I wasn't looking at him. He sounded disappointed when he said, "Oh." Trying to sound upbeat, he said, "Well, goodnight then." He got into the van, shut the door, and drove off down the narrow street.

As soon as I got inside, I picked up the phone and dialed Brother Two's number.
"Naing, guess what?!" I exclaimed into the phone.
He sounded puzzled and a little sleepy. "What?"
"I almost got kissed!"
He paused and then asked, "What do you mean, almost?"
"What do you mean, what do I mean? I almost got kissed!"
"But you didn't..."
"No...but that's not the point! Naing..."
"Mmmm. Okay, start again. What actually happened?"
I told him the situation.
"But you told him no?" he asked.
"Well...yeah...yes I did." He was obviously not getting the issue here.
"Well, WHY DIDN'T YOU LET HIM KISS YOU THEN?" he roared, obviously not in the right sort of mood for this kind of talk.
"Uh, well, I didn't really think about that..."
"MJ, no one is ever going to kiss you if you keep telling them no. If you haven't crushed his manly ego and he gets up the courage to ask again, tell him yes."
"Oh, well, I guess I could do that." He hung up.

I was nervous.

I knew it was coming.

He was going to say it.

He was going to say it and then I couldn't pretend any more. I don't know about anybody else, but I told myself that we were just friends. In fact, I'd told them all the same thing. At the same time, I couldn't get away from the squirming feeling deep inside that we were somehow progressing past that. We were friends who were spending lots of time together.

Corse I knew that if he said it then we'd both, actually, that I'd have to decide whether I wanted to go along with that. I knew that I'd have to say no. I just wasn't going to give in again to a relationship that wasn't going to work. I wasn't willing to give my heart away again. Meanwhile, I was trying to avoid the inevitable.

He'd stop as he was walking to the door. He'd look into my eyes. Avoiding his gaze I'd remind him (for his own good of course) how early he had to work in the morning and that he should get going.

"MJ?"

"Yeah? Listen Rick, you know, it's really late..."

"I know, I know but..."

"Are these your shoes?" I asked. It was a not-so-subtle hint.

"Yeah. Well, um"

"Forgot what you were going to say huh? Yeah it happens to me all the time too. Well, anyways..."

"Oh yeah," he replied back, "yeah, I forgot what I was going to say."

"Now, where'd I put your jacket?" Inside I was squirming, just squirming. So...awkward...! The apartment was so small that not looking at him was really inconvenient. I either had to get a sudden urge to do up a load of dishes or an unconscionable need to examine the minutae of drywall cuz all there was was the sink, the wall or Rick. Somehow I managed and went to say goodbye. His face was absolutely boiling with blushliness. No, no, don't say it! Don't, don't don't!

Strapping the helmet on his head, and putting his jacket on, it looked as though I was going to succeed for yet another day. I breathed a sigh of relief and looked him in the eyes, ready to say my triumphant goodbye.

"I really like you MJ" he said quickly.

"I like you too Rick." And he shut the door behind him. Gahhhh! What was I thinking? I was supposed to reject his offer. I was supposed to explain to him very gently but very succinctly that I didn't want a relationship right then, that I didn't like him like that. Still, he could have been saying it in a sort of friendly way and if he ever asked, I would argue that that's what I thought he meant, even though it was quite clear that that's not what he meant.

I threw myself down in bed with a mixture of giddiness and disgust and fell to sleep just as soon as the butterflies in my stomach quit tittering.

"MJ! What's gotten into you?" they asked me at work. "You're so happy today." I just shrugged and danced off to the money room, using my till as a dancing ribbon, albeit a very heavy, inconveniently stiff one. It really was more of a dancing log. Or perhaps a plank. All throughout the day, I would smile to myself, but I kept the memory to myself.

That was when we went to see Hitch and he wanted to hold my hand, but I was a cold, laughing, epileptic fish and would have no such thing. After the movie, he drove me home and came inside for a few minutes. We sat on the day bed and talked about the movie. But really the movie was just a cover for what he really wanted to talk about. He wasn't entirely sure that the night before I had actually returned the "like you" or if he had just imagined it, in all the fuss and nervousness.

"So...is there...is there something going on between us?" That was much less ambiguous. I just laughed really long and replied:
"I certainly hope so."

He smiled at me, a little mischeviously. "So that means I can do this?" He drew a perfect Delta sign on my knee.

"Yeah" I replied a little coyly. He smiled back at me. I didn't mind looking at him now.

I think about it now, that little Delta. Our first touch. I have since learned that in scientific terms Delta means "change in". I like to think of that moment as "change in me". I didn't know it then but my little, shrivelled seed of a heart was getting its first drink of water in a long time and soon there would be a change in me. That little moment, my Delta moment.

It's funny what happens when you leave two years behind. One, for instance, might leave home twice removed, leave town, get jobs, get boyfriends, and leave them behind, although not in the heart. One may do many of these things.
As for me, I left home one hot summer day. July 27. Same day that I broke up with the Bubble, only a year later.
A month earlier, I had bought a new tent and I wanted to try it out. I came home and told them that I wanted to go camping. They said they'd go too. Mum and the Brothers. Dad and his wife and their kids. We'd all go. Just as if we were a family again. It was cold and raining as we set up the tents. Mine was so small that there was no room to sneeze, but I liked it anyways. Dad's girls had their own tent. The boys shared their own tent. Mum and Dad and Wife stayed in the trailer together. Dad and Wife would do it in the night. Mum would listen. It creeped her out.
One day Brother Two wanted to see if we could both fit into my bitty tent together. We tried. Mum came along and said that we must have been doing it. She said that she was kicking us out. Me, Brother Two and Brother Three.
We left the campsite and sat on the side of the Mountain amidst piles of scree which kept tumbling to the bottom. It was sunny like anything and hot. I said that I'd look after them both, I said that we'd find an apartment together and that I'd do anything for them. It was a funny thing that we'd just been accused of. And Brother Two didn't look at me anymore. We've not really been the same since. But I didn't care what she'd said, I would have done anything for those two. Brother Two said that he didn't want to move out. Brother Three agreed. They'd go and set things straight with Mum.
It's funny, Brother Two and I have never talked about that day again. Maybe he doesn't remember it. It was only some other crazy thing that she'd say, but I remember it. I remember it every now and then. That was the day that I decided against her. I decided against her and everything that she stood for. It broke my heart because I'd believed in her. I'd trusted her. I believed everything she said. After that I couldn't share space with her any more. I was disillusioned but I didn't know where to go. I didn't know what to believe. I'd always lived for loyalty. I'd lived for the family and keeping it together. Now, now, I was the breaker. I was the force to be reckoned with.
I told her that I was leaving. She said that she'd help me find a place. She took me out one hot afternoon to look at apartments. I found the perfect one. It was in the old part of town, near a river. The apartment was absolutely falling apart. But it was beautiful to my eyes. Beautiful. And it was mine. All mine. Just my place where I could be. My place where I didn't have to answer to any one. She wouldn't be there.
The next day she told me that her god had told her that if I moved out, I would be raped like Dinah, raped and horribly molested. I cried. But strangely, I was not afraid of her god any more and I told her that I would move out anyway. She begged me not to. I told her that I was going to any way. This was the first time that I'd disobeyed her and her god.
July 27, 2004 I slept there for the first time.
This is my story, not hers, so I won't tell you about when she moved out with nowhere to go, just all her stuff in a truck and no home to go to. My brothers. My two beautiful brothers who had once been so perfect were slowly being perverted and scarred. They also had nowhere else to go. Woman! What are you doing? They had no home. I won't tell you about the time when I went to visit and spent 8 hours talking to her, trying to explain that Dad wasn't bugging our house, that he wasn't coming over in the daytime and breaking into our house. Or the time that I had to come over and vouch that Brother Two wasn't part of a cult, wasn't gay with his best friend, wasn't sabotaging her computer.
And inside, I was so hurt, so lonely. The family was all I had ever known. I had no real friends to speak of. My whole life was caught up in her, in her ideas and her god, and in my boys, my precious boys. I kept us all together. I was the strong one. I mediated violent fights. I told them what to do. I gave her the support to go on. And suddenly with one tent, I had lost it all. It was all gone. I was just a visitor to my own family. I was the one fighting. I wanted her to see. I wanted them all to see. I wanted them to love me dammit! I had given them everything. I had given her everything. And now, I had nothing left. I felt so empty inside, so lost.
Fall came. I got a new job. High-security, low-pay. The money job. Except I was handing out money, not actually making it. I paid my bills and after everything, I had $200. Then if I wanted a haircut, or to buy shoes or a coat, well it was a question if I could squeeze it out of the budget.
The place was a pig-sty. I did my laundry about once every 3 months and my dishes about the same amount of time. I would come home every night after work to a dark house. I would turn on the TV, grab anything I could out of the cupboard to eat and eat and eat and eat until 4:00AM. Then I'd go to sleep and wake up and go to work.
Winter came. Tremendous snow fall. I shovelled Mrs Baker's steps so her dog could relieve himself. It was oh-so-cold, waiting in the mornings for the bus to come. I got a bad cold and went to live at my mom's house. She was always great when you were sick. She drove me to work. We watched endless episodes of Alias together. We were happy. She would pick me up and we'd go grocery shopping together. I'd tell her about the really cool food that I was brewing up and she'd say that it was a great idea and she'd make it too. She said she was inspired by me.
My cold got better. I was back in the apartment again. Deep snow and it got dark so early. I would come home and I couldn't breathe. I would just barely walk in the door and I'd drop all my things and go to the telephone. I'd call someone, anyone really, if she wasn't home. Those days when I couldn't get anyone, when everyone was out. I would stalk around in the space that was available to stalk and then I would raid the fridge. There was not usually anything there. I would raid the cupboards. Lemon pie filling. I looked at the ingredients. Eggs. Dammit, I don't have any eggs. Fine. I would sit down by the TV and eat the powdered stuff raw. I would wait until 4;00AM and then since I knew I had to be up in two hours, I would finally lay down and let it all wash all over me. Sometimes I just wanted to get up and do something to myself. I didn't want to be there any more. I don't know if I actually wanted to die, I just wanted someone to care about me. I just wanted someone to care about me. I think I cried a few times when I was there, but usually I didn't, usually I just felt it and held it in.
The weather got warmer and wetter. Most of my spring was consumed with taking a TESOL course. I had to leave town for a week to get it. I was excited. I was going to do something with my life instead of spending all my time in that stupid apartment. I was going to move to a foreign country and teach English and make lots of money and then I could afford to go to University. I was going to have adventure. I took the course and studied the heck out of it. I knew all this stuff about dangling participles and stuff, but I was just rubbish at making the lesson plans. I had been "seeing" this guy who lived in the city where the course was happening. Now funny thing, I knew he was a womanizer. I had seen almost all my girl friends fall for him (we had all been friends back home). And I was determined not to fall for him. But man, Johnny was just the person to fill that empty empty pit inside. We talked and laughed. He spent $150 on long distance charges talking to me. During the course he would come and pick me up after class and walk me back to where I was staying. He was so sweet. He would tell me how when he first saw me, he thought I was so beautiful. He would tell me that he just wanted to be with me. He just wanted me to feel beautiful and feel good about myself. Our last night at the course, Johnny showed up at class and brought me one single red rose. That was our last night together and I cried as we parted. He'd asked me to be his girlfriend, but I told him that I needed time to think about it. I knew that if I said yes, I would just be another of those girls who'd fallen. I so desperately wanted to, but I just couldn't. Two days later, he made out with my best friend.
Meanwhile, I was so happy about spring. I always am. I would walk down to the river and just bask in it. My friend Rusty moved home. She just lived down the street and was always willing to get away from her vicious family to come to my house. Mmmm that spring and summer. I still revel in those memories. Beautiful days.
May 9: the dreams of moving to another country were dwindling. I couldn't find a well paying teaching job and I knew that deep down I really didn't have the courage to do it. Distraction to the times: Rusty was having a birthday party. I was always willing to go to birthday parties especially Rusty's because they had just a hint of alcohol and lots of chips, and she knows so many interesting people. It was also a chance to dress up. I was done up just right. I had a frilly white top and a short blue courderoy skirt. I was ready to flirt and get a wee-bit tipsy. I did just that. A short ethnic fellow had brought his ancient Nintendo System with Duckhunt and the original gun. He and Rusty had met on the Internet and the found out they went to the same school. Rusty took him to prom. They were friends. Quirky, silly, dramatic - both of them, down to a T. I took this fellow's gun and proceeded to whip everyone's butts at Duckhunt. I have never before made it past the first level of any video game. Ever. Well, except for Keen 6, but that was just a darn-good game. I was impressed! So was he. He was the Duckhunt Master and had never seen a newbie give out such a whoopin'. We started talking. He told me that he'd just flunked out of engineering, and had just come home 5 days ago. He was biking like heck to fill the empty hours until he got a job. In fact, about 9 hours a day.
To tell the truth, I don't remember much more of the conversation I had with him, because I'd had four or five drinks. He said his name was Rick. I told him that I did a fair amount of writing. He said that he did too and showed me his story on-line. All I can remember thinking was that it was a darn-good piece of writing. He asked for my e-mail addresss. I gave it to him, but sneaky me, I didn't tell him that I didn't have the internet, so I was never on-line. I kind of liked his attention, but didn't really like him that much and definitely didn't want to get involved.
Next day, Rusty and I got together for a little party. Perhaps a marguerita party. We made a tremendous lot of them that summer. She told me that Rick was really lonely and depressed and that I should make an effort to get out with him. I said that I was nice (but did not intend to do a thing about it). The next day we got together for something or other. She asked if I'd called him yet. No, not yet. I didn't have his number. She gave it to me and I said I'd go biking with him if she would come. Of course she would. I called him up. His mother picked up. He wasn't home, but she'd pass on the message. Next day he called me back. I wasn't home. I had the wierdest answering message at the time. It went something like this, "[old woman's voice] Hallo? Hallo?" "[Normal woman's voice] *clears throat* No, I'm afraid MJ's not home at the moment but if you'd like to leave a message" "[old] Leave a message! I tell ye, leave a message." "[normal] *clears throat* (aside) Stop it. If you would like to leave a message..." "[old] She won't get back to ye because I've taken over. I've taken ohhhhhver!!" Rick called back to hear it again, leaving two very puzzled messages on the answering maching. Startled, actually. "Hello? Hi? Umm, well, I'm just leaving a message for MJ. Looks like we're playing phone tag. Give me a call." "Oh, yeah, sorry, it's Rick. Just wanted to hear the message again."
We set up biking for a few days later. We were to meet at our old school. Rick, Rusty, and I had all attended the school. Rusty bailed and I was stuck biking with this guy by myself. I was grumpy because I didn't want it to seem like it was a date. We biked for a while, and we talked. He suggested playing 20 questions. I thought it was a stupid idea, but didn't tell him so. Instead I said that I would like that. Except he said, that it could be 20 questions about ourselves. Sneaky little bugger had a crush. Secretly, I kind of thought it was cute. But my gruff middle said it was the stupidest idea I'd ever heard of and my polite exterior said that that was a fine way to spend our time while biking. I asked if he would ever consider growing a moustache or gotee. He said that indeed he would. In fact, he and his friend Mark had grown handlebar moustaches in University. He asked if I could go anywhere before I died, where it would be. I said that I had to visit many places, but New Zealand was the place I wanted to visit most of all. Very green it was, and I'd never seen a live sheep before. Plus it was so wild and untamed. I definitely had to go there. I asked him to tell me a secret. He said that he'd founded an organization called the "E.O." (Evil Organization) whose sole purpose was to get assholes back for their crimes. Like dumping good women. He told me about his plot to avenge a friend of his whose boyfriend had cheated on her. Basically, the jist of the plan was to plant fliers around saying "For a good time call Alexis [the guy's name]" and a picture of a hot sexy girl and the poor bugger's phone number". The plan succeeded and the maiden was avenged and Alexis had to change his phone number. He asked me what was something that annoyed me and I said video games. I hate them with a passion. Maybe because I'm really not good at them, but also because they are a waste of time and they always lead to so many fights. This went on and on. Actually for days. We went biking again together in those lovely May evenings, wherein he told me that he thought he had a big butt and I laughed at him and told him that I thought it was a very nice butt.
That first evening, I took him to my apartment and told him that if he tried anything, I could whoop his butt. He said that he believed me. I made him a hot chai latte. He didn't like tea, but he liked that. The sun had gone down when he finally left on his bike to do the long trek home. He almost ran-down a raccoon. We biked up to the north end of the city to the campgrounds where my family had been camping a year before. We sat there in the golden sunlight and I told him about my family. He didn't say anything, but just listened to me talk. When we were done, he told me that he lived nearby and we should drop in. I said I hoped his parents weren't there. I didn't like the thought of meeting his parents. They would probably think I was a pirate or something out to get their son. He said he didn't think they would be. So we went. His parents greeted us at the door. Dammit, I thought. His house was perfect. Oak cupboards and pressed curtains and flower arrangements. His parents were perfect, offering me something to drink, something to eat. They just made me horribly, horribly nervous. I said thanks but no thanks. I would just wait outside. They just kept pressing me to eat something. Finally, his dad made Rick make me something to eat. It was a tomato sandwich, toasted with a touch of mayo. Mmmm. I was so hungry that that sandwich was one of the best I'd ever had, but in my head, I was betting that his parents were wondering what I was doing with their son. They were thinking evil thoughts and then offering me food. Why not just leave me in peace?
Beginnings of relationships are always so awkward. There's a whole lot you have to learn. Rick was Portuguese. His family included pretty much any other Portuguese person. Wow, if I thought it was awkward meeting his mother and father, it was about 17 times more awkward meeting all 170 of them in the area. They smiled and winked and nudged until his little cousin asked me if I was his girlfriend. I blushed and made like the potato salad was the very air sustaining my life. You also have to learn a whole lot about that other person like what they like or don't like. Rick was into wierd music. Well, "alternative" music. I mean, really alternative. Like barking seacows and whaling guitars and Beck. First CD he ever gave me was Beck's Guero. I hated it. It was jarring and unusual. In fact, I hated it so much that I listened to it for 3 weeks straight, even while I was grocery shopping. I just couldn't put it down. It was mesmorizng. Mango ladies, vendadores, aboletes with plastic bags. Ceramic classes.
First date was to see Hitch at the $2 cinema. I dressed up with earrings and a touch of makeup and even my horrid leather coat that looks good but takes a full dislocation of the shoulder to get in and out of. We walked there. It was a warm early summer day. All though the movie, he wanted to hold my hand, but I got so excited about the movie that he had no choice but to keep his hands to himself or be smucked in the face. That was good for me because although deep in my heart of hearts I cherished an affection for this quirky, fun guy, I really didn't want a relationship with him at all. I just wanted to keep him on the line until such a time when I did not need him any more. Sad, really, now that I think of it, but that was how I was back then.
He just made me laugh. He didn't make me think to hard. He wanted to be with me. What else could I want? He was just so easy to be with. But I didn't know then what I know now about the time you have to spend with someone dear to you. I was just going on with my life. Carrying on as usual. Within a few short months, everything would change. Well, most things. A few things remained the same. Rick was one of them.