This is NOT Over

Here is a life in desperate need of a rimshot

May 18, 2012

Thursday May 17 to Friday May 18, 1990 OK

Woke up with Megs and a dead battery in the Shitlomat. Where are the fucking cops in this town? Gone with the students I guess.

We walked east to the Junction. I told her she had to call Danny from the payphone, tell him we weren’t dead, apologize for being a jerk and beg him to come get us. She did those things and Danny was cool.

I don’t think either one of them remembered why they were fighting. Who’s fighting and what for? I’m just glad that for once it wasn’t me who caused all the trouble.

Danny drove us back to the abandoned car. I tried to start it just in case there was some last bit of juice in the battery or a miracle came upon us or something like that. Nothing. When it comes to cars, there are no miracles.

The three of us walked around the car smoking cigarettes and Danny asked, “How fast were you going when you landed in the ditch?”

Megs answered, “I don’t remember.”

I remembered, and I could swear we were moving at less than a crawl as we went into the ditch.

Danny got down on all fours and looked under the front portion of the car. He said, “I thought your wheels looked funny. The axel might be bent.”

Megs laughed and I thought ‘only this girl with her problems could wreck something going slower than 20mph’. Well she’s the one who is fucked, not me. I don’t know nothing about fixing no axels. I was in stunned disbelief that we somehow managed to make the Shitlomat worse on our late night drive. That’s actually something of a compliment because it is the shittiest car I know.

It makes Schlepcar look like a Mercedes.

Since there is no magic fucking horn to save us, we drove back to Danny’s place and Megs called her sister. The three of us spent the rest of the day playing Dirty Clubs, eating sandwiches and not drinking. We also received confirmation that the Shitlomat was successfully towed to some tire place near campus to be evaluated.

Gina picked us up at Danny’s place around 7pm. There wasn’t much talking. She said a quick hello to Danny and asked if Megs and I were ok. We were embarrassed but ok. When you’re us that’s the most you can hope for, most days.

We rode back to Joliet, listening to the radio and not saying much to each other. Gina was calm, poised and perfectly so, as always. She looked like a sexier, blonde version of her mother. Megs and Gina’s mom has been through a lot. I think I mentioned somewhere that Megs lost her dad recently. It was last year or sometime in ’88. I was a little hazy during all that, I think her dad died December ’88 around the same time my dad’s dad died. Also Jimmy, the oldest in the family was born a twin. The twin didn’t make it. Megs is the youngest, but her mom and dad tried to have one after her and that baby also didn’t make it.

That’s a lot to go through because of sex. If it is true that women don’t like it as much as men do, all the suffering and possible death might be part of the reason why. What do I know? I haven’t suffered a day in my life.

Gina and I rode in the front of the mom’s Town Car. Megs stretched out in the back seat. We drove about twenty minutes in total silence when Gina asked me, “Can I have a cigarette?”

“Sure,” I said and lit it for her. Megs reached over the seat and I put a cigarette in her hand. I joined in too and we might not have been any happier but we three smokers seemed more relaxed.

We got a little further east and Gina put on Magic 104 with the old time 50’s music. She always liked that shit. She’d listen to Dick Biondi in her room. I don’t think anyone’s actually done that since 1963. In the car that’s ok, but oldies radio in the bedroom, that’s a sign of an innocence I want no part of…

It’s so innocent it’s creepy.

After one more cigarette, Megs went to sleep. Gina asked me, “Is she ok?”

“She looks ok.”

“I mean,” she said in a serious, close-lipped whisper, “is she ok?”

“I don’t know.” And I didn’t. I don’t know if Megs can still handle what she’s doing with herself. She’s not raising bad judgment to an art form. I’d like to think that’s my modus operandi. I just think she does a lot of shit without giving it a second thought. Megs is still young and part of me believes she’ll get through this. I sort of have to believe this for reasons I do not want to discuss.

The more I thought about Gina’s question, the more it bugged me. Is she ok? That’s a terrible question. “Ok” is a meaningless word. Sure I use it all the time, but not for important things. The SOX played ok yesterday. The party was ok. The dog was throwing up but now I think it’s ok. I’d never use the word to help me understand something I need to know, especially if I needed to know what’s going on with my sister.

Fortunately, I already know what’s going on with my little sister. She’s in Indiana and she’s ok. Megs slept peacefully on the ride back to Joliet. I hope she’s ok.

posted by edP # 9:46 AM

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This is NOT Over

May 18, 2012

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