One month later

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Today marks three weeks of living in Houston and one month since she told me that she was leaving me. I woke up thinking about her. I can’t believe I am saying this but I actually want to see her. Now that I’m not mad anymore, I just miss her. I miss touching her, making her laugh, kissing her – I miss all of her. We were always great together. After six years of being together, we had been on the level of communication that we didn’t have to talk anymore. We merely looked at each other and would know what the other was thinking. She was the peanut butter to my jelly. I’ve barely talked to her in this past month, going days without any communication whatsoever and now I’m finally feeling it.

I decide that I am ready to get out of my bath robe and wear something else than sweatshirts and yoga pants. I put on my denim dress I had bought with Gabby at Forever 21. I washed my hair and finally put it down. I put on bronzer, mascara, shaded my eyebrows and added hot pink lipgloss. I finished my look with a bracelet I had made from my favorite ruffled collared shirt and flowered flats I had bought from the children’s section at Walmart. Dressing like myself, the Christina that I lost, makes me feel better. I don’t look half-bad, I tell the skeptical girl in the mirror staring back at me. Actually, I look pretty damn cute. I’m going to have to wear this dress more often. I look adorable!

Today is Elijah’s birthday at Chuck E. Cheese and I had told Monica I would be there. I buy him a card at Walgreens and some stickers of cars. What do three-year-olds like, I think. Whatever, stickers it is. I arrive at Chuck E. Cheese and am immediately overwhelmed with hundreds of screaming children and wailing, deafening games and rides. Shoot me now, I think. Just get it over with. You’re here for Monica, I tell myself.

I meet a slew of new people - family on Monica’s mom’s side, her husband Tony’s family and Monica’s friends. They seemed nice enough but I was overwhelmed. I am slowly easing back into a social life but Chuck E Cheese was insane and I was on overload. I focused on my breathing, remaining calm and trying to be talkative. I didn't know anyone there but Monica and Tony. Why were there so many damn kids and why are they all screaming? I would refocus every three minutes trying to talk to Monica's friends so that I wouldn't start hurting random children.

One of Monica's friends is bi and Monica is convinced I need a rebound. She had shown me her picture on Facebook and her name had been Mizz Juicy Rene. Red flag #1, I told myself. I’m not even friends with people who had names on Facebook such as, ‘Rachel WelcomeToMySexRoom Smith,’ or ‘Adam AllIDoIsWin Johnson.’ It’s the easiest way to spot someone’s immaturity and incapability to be real, to be themselves. Also, I really didn’t like lesbians who advertised themselves on Facebook, either. Why do I, why does anyone, need to know you’re juicy? Ew. Inappropriate.

“She’s pretty sometimes,” Monica said.

“Sometimes?” I ask. Red flag #2 and #3. What the hell does, ‘sometimes pretty,’ mean?

“Ya, look. She’s …well, she’s not cute there. Or there. But she’s kinda cute …well, no not there,” she says scrolling through pictures.

“Oh, look,” Monica pauses and flashes her phone at me. “That’s not a bad picture of her. That’s Rene.”

I squint at the screen. Oh, hell no! Red flag #4, #5, #6 …hell, red flag #10.

“Why is she bent down like that looking at the camera?” I ask Monica.

“She likes to take pictures in lingerie and upload them onto Facebook, I guess,” she laughs.

Red flag #11, #12, #13, #14, #15.

“What’s that on her leg?” I ask.

“She has Mizz Juicy tatted on her leg.”

Red flag #16, #17, #18.

“And who are those people?” I ask Monica. This is getting funnier by the minute.

“Those are her kids,” she says, watching my face for my reaction. My eyes widen.

Red flag #1,000,000.

“Those are her kids?! She has grown ass kids Monica! No ma’am! They’re pretty kids, so good for her, but absolutely not. No, no, NO. Mizz Juicy? No ma’am! She is too damn old for that.”

Monica couldn’t stop laughing at me. She is always laughing at me. I don’t really think I’m that funny but Monica would convince you that I was the next big female comedian by the way she laughs at the silly things I say.

I eyed Mizz Juicy across the birthday presents and cake. Absolutely not, I told myself again. She was an old ass lady. I can’t believe Monica thought for a second that I would do anything with … that. She is most definitely not my type. I’m sure Monica had spoken of me to her because I catch her looking at me during the party. Ew, nooooooooo. I am sure to stay around Monica for the remainder of the party. I thank the family and leave to go home.

Upon arriving home, my mom says we need to talk and again tells me that she doesn’t see me making any progress. You’re not going to church. You’re not running. You’re not waking up at 7 a.m. You aren’t talking to me. You should see a counselor since you’re not talking to me. You’re not making more of an effort. I don’t want you on medication. You’re not helping out enough in the house, she tells me.

I tell her that I am improving, I keep the house clean and walk her smelly dog. She still insists that it is not enough. She says she has no idea if I’ve been improving because I don’t talk to her so she is only going off observations. Why don’t I want to spend time with her and Nick at night time? Why do I stay in my room? That isn’t healthy and it’s not going to make you better.

When the fuck did she become a licensed doctor who treated depressed patients? She majored in international business as far as I knew. I resolved that I would schedule an appointment with a psychologist that week. What I didn’t tell her was that I was already on medication and that she would be coming with me to my therapy. I need a professional to explain to her what depression means and how it is affecting me. I need Mom to know how she is making things worse. She doesn’t want to listen to me? Fine. I was going to pay someone to make her listen.

I spend the rest of the night watching Easy A and Going The Distance with Mom to shut her up. I’m spending time with her so she can stop complaining and maybe let me live my life on my own.

We were going to have a Skype date but she said she wasn’t ready to talk yet.

11:29 p.m.

Ok. Just talk to me for now please. I am awkwardly watching a phone sex scene with my mother. I am freaking out. This is so weird, I tell her.

11:31 p.m.

Hahahaha! What are you watching?

11:32 p.m.

Going The Distance. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! And now my mom is saying, ‘Oooook. I don’t like this part.’ Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! I’m sweating. This is so awkward. I’m sweating! I can’t believe I just watched a phone sex scene with my mom.

Mom thanks me for spending the night with her saying she had a lovely time and we go to bed.

I toss and turn all night thinking about her.