Rent reminds me that I once had aspirations to star in musicals. However somewhere along the line, I realized two things:
1. I can’t sing well enough for Broadway.
2. I’m a lot better at photography.
So I guess I’m more of a female, non-Jewish Mark Cohen. Something like that… I just wish I had a better roommate. Cecile and I had our first fight last week. I came home from work (which has been ridiculously busy this month) and found her making out with some guy on my couch. On my couch, of all places!
I don’t know who the guy was--I didn’t bother to get his name and I don’t rightly care--but he had an English accent and he didn’t like it when I asked him to leave. (Probably because what I said was not what I intended. I intended, “Would you please leave my apartment?” What I said was, “You. Out of my house. Now.”) Naturally, Cecile was pissed, and two Frenchwomen fighting over a man is like… It’s ridiculous. But she knows the rule; no strays. I’ve only stressed it a hundred times. She claims he’s not a stray. Says he’s her boyfriend. In the words of one of my father’s several personalities, “I wasn’t picked fresh off the vine this morning!”
Speaking of my father. I think it may be time to pay him a visit soon. Although with the way work is getting… It’s been a while since I’ve seen Eric, too. I wonder how he is. The last time I saw him was last Monday, and he was in a serious hurry to be somewhere. Something important and doctor-y.
Between getting Cecile comfortable with the city and the suddenly heavy flow of babies being born at the hospital, I’ve barely had much time for myself. Even now, I still have a good number of pictures I have to process and people to get back to. (And influx of new babies = an influx of new freelance jobs.) All this extra work, of course, means I missed catching the new Batman movie at both the midnight showing AND opening night. I’m so pissed. Claire’s already seen it--twice!--and it’s supposed to be the greatest thing ever.
At least I managed to make the time to buy several brand new blue candles for my shelf. That makes me feel a little better.
Thankfully, Cecile’s knowledge of English has removed one less thing from my “To Do” list. Unfortunately, it also means she can deliver those annoying little backhanded comments she likes to drop once in a while. Like about my weight. Whatever. Just because she has no problem staying at a “slender” 120 pounds… If she’d had the chance to meet Ean, she probably would have been jealous.
My biggest hope is that she doesn’t decide to start bringing weird guys home. I don’t care if she gets a boyfriend or even sleeps with half the city; she’d just better not bring them here. This is my home. My place. She’d better not forget that.
You've been gone nearly a week now. I know you said you'd be away for a while, but it's weird how much I suddenly miss your presence. Should that be weird?
Nothing quite alters a night of fun and good feelings quite like nearly getting mugged on the way home. I called in sick because I didn’t want to have to explain the huge, bruise-colored bump on my head. Viticus insisted on staying to look after me, practically tripping over apologies. I thanked him for saving my life and for the overnight observation, and then I sent him home.
And then I went back to bed and slept for several more hours.
My camera, by some miracle, is still intact. All of the pictures I took are still safe. And the show itself was pretty much amazing.
But…I think it might be the hit I took to the head affecting my memory, but I could almost swear that Viticus seemed different when he was dealing with the muggers. I’m not sure how; he just seemed different.
I need to call Claire.
I swear, the end of my shift can’t come fast enough. Lunch break’s over in half an hour (but they’re actually pretty slack about when I come back in) so that means I’m a little more than halfway through it.
Also? I saw the Resident again yesterday. It turns out that his name is Eric. We had coffee on my treat (because I will I admit to still feeling like I owe him something for all his attempts to help) and I found out that he actually changed specializations after Ean died.
“I was working towards one in oncology, but after he died I found myself overcome with this intense urge never to go back there again. I almost thought about giving up medicine altogether, but I still wanted to help people. I just never wanted to work with cancer patients again.”
“Ean would leave that kind of impression on somebody.”
I got him to smile with that, but he wound up shaking his head. “It wasn’t his personality, Allys. I honestly enjoyed that about him. All the other patients on the ward… Hell, you’ve seen them. They’re quiet. Passive. Ean wasn’t like that. He was more alive than anyone there. And after he died… I don’t know. I was shaken up, I guess. I felt like…like if I couldn’t keep a spirit like that alive, then what kind of doctor am I? So I put in for a transfer.”
“And how’s that working out for you?”
“Alright, I guess. Better. But I still can’t get to sleep some nights.”
I didn’t say it then, but that definitely makes two of us.
Claire: “So you met him again?”
Me : “Yup. Did you see all those new pictures?”
Claire: “Yeah… I still can’t believe you have one.”
Me: “I thought you did!”
Claire: “I got rid of mine. I hardly used it. But let’s not change the subject. When do I get to meet him and thank him for getting you out of the house?” (Read: And getting you to forget about Ean for five minutes?)
As if I could forget about a guy like him. But I like Viticus. He’s definitely a “no-pressure” kind of guy. There’s never a feeling of having to TRY at having a good time or never any urges to fake that I am for his benefit. I just DO. He’s like… He’s just great.
And he’s invited me to see Alkaline Trio at Irving Plaza on Saturday. What’s not to like?
I know how I sound, but I’m not in any hurry to like…sleep with him or anything. I’m not interested in that. I just like his company. I feel like I don’t get to say that very often anymore. There’s the doctor down at the hospital…whose name I still didn’t catch… I really should do that next time I see him.
Ugh. Dammit. I still haven’t bought a new blue candle yet. And it can’t be just from anywhere--no matter what Claire says. There’s this little botanica near my apartment that sells the ones I like… Maybe I’m just too superstitious.
Also? I finally got a call from my cousin last night. (I still need to find out how she got my number.) She’s flying in on Monday. For real this time. Guess this means I’ll go shopping and cleaning on Sunday…
So…traipsing around Asbury Park was fun--a lot more fun than I expected, really, considering it rained off and on Saturday. I met with Viticus at the Wonder Bar and the first thing he did was walk up and hug me like we were old friends. (He’s a sweetheart, this one.) We spent the better part of the day just wandering around the town, taking pictures and talking. There was a lot of laughing. I honestly don’t remember the last time I laughed that way, which probably means I was long overdue.
He seemed a little sad at times, though…or maybe just disappointed. It’s not like I blame him. Asbury Park looked different from when I was there last year for some show at the Stone Pony. Who let in all the stupid yuppies and the condos?
In any case. Now he’s sitting here, going through a third plate of pasta and trying to enlighten me about the virtues of The Ramones. (I wonder how he managed to find the apartment, but considering how wired everybody is these days…) I’m supposed to be looking up movie times for that new Disney movie with the robots--and actually, we’re heading out pretty soon--but I thought I’d just mention that, for the first time in a while, I feel pretty good.
Here’s to hoping it lasts me quite a while.
“asbury and red bank, the 5th? if you're in the area...”
Looks like I’ll be switching schedules with someone for tomorrow… I need to go make some phone calls.
I wonder if Claire would enjoy a trip to Red Bank and Asbury Park.
Me: “So am I the only one who thinks Miley Cyrus is the unfortunate victim of a father who’s using her to keep alive his own career?”
Claire: “Like that’s anything new. Besides, he’s fucking sexy.”
Me: “That’s what you think.”
That’s Claire for you. Where I see a possible stage dad, she sees a total DILF. Ew. At least he doesn’t have that fucking mullet anymore.
I’m still up because I had this weirdly vivid dream. I was attacked in an alley by two or three men. They wanted my purse, or maybe they wanted to rape me. I don’t know. I just remember feeling scared and screaming for help…and then Viticus showed up. He tried to fight the men off, but they stabbed him. I woke up with the feeling of his body lying on my legs, so now I’m here typing away.
That’s what I get for hanging around the psych ward again. You’d think I’d fucking well learn better, but of course not. They’re nice for the most part and they like my camera. They like when I take their picture. I think they just like the attention.
Speaking of the old medical workplace…
I saw the doctor who treated Ean today. The Resident. (Because of course, I never did get his name and I didn’t look at the name embroidered on his white coat.) I hadn’t seen him since the funeral. He looks the same as I remember, except maybe a little more exhausted and disillusioned in the eyes. He was on the floor to look in on a newborn that had been cleared from the NICU after it’d been born with a heart murmur. Seems he’s decided to make cardiology his specialty. If Ean were here, he’d probably tell the Resident he picked the wrong area to specialize in.
Still. Nice guy, that Resident. Maybe I’ll figure out his name.
I got up early.
I did my laundry.
I cleaned my apartment. Like…like REALLY cleaned my apartment.
I bought groceries.
I made plans to cook.
And then I get a phone call. From France. From Cecile. (How did she get my number?) Apparently, she’s had some problems with the airline and had to cancel her flight with plans to reschedule sometime this week.
Well…at least I bought groceries and everything is clean…
I think it was something I ate last night--like maybe the second helping of Claire’s famous macaroni and cheese or the broiled tilapia or maybe even the chocolate ice cream that looked suspiciously past its expiration date--but when I fell asleep on her couch, I woke up with the hugest urge to puke it all up. So I did. FOR FOUR HOURS. Claire wanted to take me to the hospital. I told her I’d rather keep puking.
Somehow, I managed to stop puking long enough to fall asleep. Now I’m in Claire’s bed, curled up with her terrier and feeling like I’m never going to eat again. (She insisted I not go home until I felt better. I guess she feels guilty, like she might have made me sick.) All I’ve had today are water and juice. I called in sick and told them not to expect me in on Sunday either.
And Cecile is supposed to be here on Monday. Wonderful.