the lehman house [31]

The French Quarter Bistro in Mariemont

Monday. Last night I joined Sarah for a trip north to give her family a credit card she’d accidentally “stolen”, and we rendezvoused at a funeral home in full swing. “Enjoy the corpse!” I croaked as they headed inside. I don’t know where it came from, and I felt really bad, so we got the hell out of there. This morning I worked 9:30-1:00 with Nate & Rob, then hung out with Gambill and Mykaela between classes. Sarah came home from work with James at her heels (he’s leaving for Denver this week), and we watched comedy DVDs and fixed dinner and the kitchen. Sarah and Ams were making jabs at my physical flaws, and oddly enough it didn’t bother me. Sarah apologized, said, “You can be mean to me.” I told her No. “Damn you for always taking the High Road.” I told her one day I’d just explode on her and she’d end up in tears. Her eyes went wide; “Really?” I told her no, that “I’ll just be cold towards you.” She frowned; “That’d be sad…”

Tuesday. I did Christmas shopping at the Kenwood Mall after classes. When Sarah returned from work, we ate dinner—peanut butter sandwiches—and spent the evening watching TV. I keep thinking about the memories we could be making together, but the only memories are those of my inadequacy. The depression, the hopelessness, the helplessness… It continues to deepen. A numbness stained with sorrow. Forced smiles and empty laughter. My life wasn’t supposed to end up like this. My dreams were supposed to come true. I used to have so much hope, used to believe I’d fall in love, get married, have a family. And I HAVE fallen in love. I loved Courtney. But we didn’t get married; she loved and married someone else. As for a family, there have been two miscarriages and I’m more than embittered. Such grand hope and great expectation replaced by a cold and stoic acknowledgement that in life, What you want, you can’t have; what you have, you can’t keep; and that which you love will, eventually, be taken from you. Where can one find solid hope in this life? Nowhere. No matter how hard we seek, how earnestly we pray, how often we weep, reality constantly bitch-slaps us in the face. I was an idiot, a fool!, for thinking anything pleasant could be found in this life. I was deceived, my eyes clouded by hope, but now my eyes are open and I’m enlightened.

Wednesday. The landlord was supposed to come by and work on our plumbing but he never showed. I went to Bellevue to interview for a positions with Transitions, Inc. Ashley M. and Rob covered my ass at the Hilltop. Jobst and I went to The Anchor when I got out of class. Driving in the pouring rain sucked. Ams went to school and Sarah went to hang out with her friend Moose.

Thursday. Sarah and I went grocery shopping when she got home from work. That was the highlight of my day.

Friday. I worked 9:30-1:00 with Nate, Rob and Matt. Jessie and I grabbed Thai Taste (I had crab sushi). I went to Tri-County to see Sarah, and I got funny Christmas gifts for Mom & Dad at the Kenwood Mall, and then I visited Ams at Chic-fil-A and met her boss Sergio. Sarah and I went to the French Quarter Bistro, a ritzy bar in Mariemont. Way too high-class for simple folk such as ourselves. She had beer and soup, and I had a martini. Got buzzed fast. We shared lots of laughter.

Saturday. I ate lunch at Tri-Health, the Greek pizza and Greek pasta. Ams yelled at me for not buying toilet paper. Chris, Sarah, Ams and I went to the Kenwood Mall. Sarah and I went to The Container Store and Crate & Barrel, fantasizing about bedroom sets we’ll never have. We ate at the food court and then Chris left, being a jerk, and then we went home. Chris joined us back home, and Sarah made jokes about how I’ll never get to sleep with her and then more jokes about how she’s fucked random guys without even knowing their names. She said it’s OK to make those jokes, because we can make each other feel awkward. “Except when you feel awkward, it’s a compliment; when I feel awkward, it’s a hack at my self-esteem.” Later on in the evening she apologized: “I didn’t mean to be a bitch…”

Sunday. I spent the day reading and writing and then worked 5:45-9:00 with Sarah and John. Mykaela swung by and we hung out, and Brittany came by, too. Sarah’s friend Moose came by, and we hung out in the living room drinking beers. I want to hope that things will get better, that a day will come when the Shakespearean tragedy entitled “My Life”—a tragic comedy, mind you—will become a blossoming romance with a happy ending. But I’m losing hope in happy endings; I’ve never experienced them. As of now my life’s on Repeat, the same storyline repeated in different locales and with different faces. The storyline is Hope leads to Disappointment leads to Disillusionment leads to Resignation. Oh, and a major theme is watching those you’ve loved have their dreams handed to them on silver platters while God and his favor is nowhere to be found.