Saturday night Part 8
Rachel and I spoke after dinner, strolling along the lakefront, a normally romantic environment, however tonight the mood was black and lifeless. When confronted with bad news I tend to freeze up and get stubborn, so Rachel did most the discussion, I just found myself lost in my thoughts. Of course her ideas were already formed and she spent the time selling them to me. If I could get ion touch with my real self, I might have given and argument but as it stood, I just pouted and felt completely rejected. After quite some time, Rachel apologized yet again, put me in a cab and sent me home. I was devastated and almost in a state of catatonia. All I could
think of was how easily I fall in love and what a patsy I am. I tipped the
cabbie and walked in a trance to my door, unlocking and relocking myself inside. The night called for a real drink, so I broke out the vodka and Kailua, made a black Russian that would cost twelve fifty in any bar in town. Before I knew it, I had downed the drink and was still beside myself, I made a second one and sat down in the living room and had a good old fashioned cry, sobs and gasping for air, the whole cry yourself dry syndrome. I am old enough to know life goes on, that all relationships do not succeed But once again I fell head over heals and warned myself to be more guarded next time. Frankly my heart was broken, crushed really and I felt blindsided. How could I have miss- read Rachel's signals so badly? Before I realized the second drink was history and I stumbled into the kitchen and made another one. My thoughts were muddy now and distorted, soon I was feeling queasy and ran to the bathroom to heave. I must have made it to bed, because my first waking thoughts were where am I? I sat up and my head said no way, so I laid it back on the pillow. Before long I knew work was out of the question, so for the second time in seven years, I called in sick. I slept away a big chunk of the day but when I woke up, I soon realized I still had to deal with my emotions. Rachel weighed on my mind like a lead weight, I could not run or hide, I could not escape her in my mind. Try as I might, she was ever present, my disappointment was complete, I was so sure I knew her better than that. I searched my mental dictionary for the right words, disappointment, bad judgment, cruelty, misrepresentation, con artist, flake and ditz all came up but did not fit. Somewhere deep in my soul, I could not accept Rachel's explanation, she was covering or lying to not hurt me but she was not sincere. The conversation came back, her body language as well and I suddenly realized she was trying to spare me pain, not from our relationship but from my opinion of her. That was it, she was ashamed of herself and did not want to spoil my image of her. She loved e more then I had originally thought and was determined to leave me on a positive note, before I saw the worst in her. Oh my God, suddenly it was so clear, now all I had to do was to convince her I am not so shallow and that her love is sacred to me and no cheap emotions can undo that. I have to think this through; I need an edge, what is the hottest connection between us? Suddenly it hit me, we are connected on an intellectual level, I can win her back with my mind. I got out a pen and paper, my sexy lavender stationary and my love stamps. I did not know her address, at least not all of it, so I looked up the club and addressed my letter there. Be Drunk... You have to always be drunk. That's all there is to it-it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk. And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you:"It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish." Charles Baudelaire I reread the note and sealed it before I could change my mind. I put on a hat and some jeans and took the envelope to the corner to mail it. Headed home I smiled, I just knew somewhere inside I was doing the right thing.