#now i gotta wait 3 hours till my next | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jodilin65 · 26 years

Text

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 31, 1998 Tom thinks the freeloaders will come back Sunday or Monday morning. That’d be nice, but with my luck, they’ll be back tomorrow or Saturday. More likely Saturday.

The red pickup was next door for about a half-hour yesterday. This time, they parked in the driveway. I couldn’t see what they were doing. I don’t know if they went inside the house, and if they were here just to check out the house, as Tom suggested, why did it take a half-hour? I couldn’t see the driver, but I caught a glimpse of the woman as she was getting into the passenger side of the truck, which was easiest to see from where I stood. She had shoulder-length blond hair. Their driveway is to the left of our house, so when I spy from the living room window, the passenger side is closest to me. At least these people came and went normally. They shut their doors coming and going once and in a normal manner. They didn’t slam the fuck out of them over and over and over and over.

I forgot to say that Angel was 20% off, so we got her for $99 and not $109.

I asked Tom why I had irritation in my mouth all over again on the bottom. Just when my mouth toughened up to the braces, I was irritated all over again. He says it’s cuz she tightened the braces and that I may get that after a tightening. I don’t with the top, but that’s cuz she’s not tightening a whole row of teeth up there. Not yet. Anyway. Not till it’s almost time for the top braces to come off. Guess I still have 3-4 more months with the top braces.

I sent Marla an IM when I saw her online. She’s trying to go to Massachusetts but keeps getting delayed due to fog. Guess she won’t make it out till the 1st or 2nd. She said she spoke to Andy, but I still haven’t heard from him. I left him a message yesterday telling him I’d like us to get together sometime soon, so he’ll call when he calls, I guess. He must be really busy, thank God, to not get back to me right away. Either that or he’s waiting for the weekend since he didn’t call me last weekend. I have noticed the pattern here lately. It seems he’s calling every other weekend. At least he’s doing what I asked of him half the time. What is it with people having such a hard time doing little things? If you can’t do a simple little thing like not calling on weekends, reaching out, and turning the volume knob of your stereo, then how could you handle big things?

Later…

All the rats were waiting anxiously for me when I got up. They came up and grabbed their cheese. The mice also looked for me when I got up, as they usually, do and the pig went off for his carrot or lettuce. Whatever I feel like giving him.

We’re not going to Ma’s today, as planned. Tom didn’t put up the rails yesterday cuz Ma had a lot of visitors.

Later…

There’s a chance the freeloaders could make a scene on MLK Day. They did for the two they were here for in ‘97 and ‘98, so we’ll see how they handle freeloader year in ‘99. However, last year was different. They were pissed at me cuz of the bottle and letter and I hadn’t gone to the city yet for help, so that’s why they harassed me with a dozen kids playing ball for 3 hours. This year, things are different, so maybe MLK Day will be, too.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 30, 1998 The freeloader’s front light is out. Did they come back? Or did it burn out? Hope it just burned out.

Now I’m ready to do some bitching. Here we go again with the mom and Mary tasks. Ma went home yesterday and today Tom’s gotta put up handrails cuz Mary’s stupid, lazy husband won’t do it himself. Thursday, I’m gonna go over and sit with Ma while Tom works on Mary’s computer for her. These people can’t do their own work, I swear! You gotta do everything for them. Tom calls Dave inexperienced, but I think lazy and stupid is more like it. It’s his house, his wall, so he should be putting up his own fucking handrails. And it’s his computer, so he should be the one fixing it. Mary and Dave together should take care of their own house and their own things. Tom says Mary will pay him fairly, and that we can get on with fixing our own house after this, but I don’t know. They always seem to need just one more thing. There’s always something they just have to use Tom for cuz they’re either too fucking stupid or too fucking lazy to do it themselves. And if they don’t know how, why don’t they get off their asses and learn? And of course, David and Evie don’t hardly help out cuz they don’t have the life in which to do it, and Ray, Nora, and all the others are too fucking stupid and lazy to care. Like I said, the abusers are on my side of the family, and the lazy, stupid, users are on his side.

Later…

The dogs decided to go off, so I decided to really give them a reason to and I screamed. They continued barking for five more minutes. And of course, the owners slept right through it and didn’t come out to calm the dogs down and check things out. The only people around here who may not be able to sleep through anything like the freeloaders, the collie owners, and everyone else, might be the people behind us. They’re up all night anyway. I don’t know if someone there has a weak bladder or what, but that bathroom light goes on constantly throughout the night. Like once every hour or two.

Anyway, what is it with these dogs going off at the slightest sound? I know how close I am to them and how sensitive their hearing is, but last winter was totally different than this winter. Last winter, there were a few nights where I tried to get the dogs to go off given the one-in-a-million chance they may have woken the freeloaders up, but they wouldn’t. I slammed chairs around, I banged things against the house, but they wouldn’t go off. This winter, they go off at the screen door opening. And it’s so quiet too. Just a little rustling sound. It doesn’t squeak or anything like that. Even the daytime’s worse this year. There are some days when they wait longer than ten minutes in between barking sprees, but not very often. They have been quieter since the freeloaders have been out of town, and I realize, that Bill and Mistake being home would stir them up more. Assuming the mistake hangs out in its bedroom half the time, that’s just an arm’s reach from the dogs, so I’m sure they hear her bopping around and go off over that. The slightest thing sets these dogs off. I never heard anything like it or as bad. Only trained guard dogs are this bad.

I don’t usually like to talk in round-about ways, but in my message to Andy a few days ago, I mentioned how he didn’t question or comment about Mom, so “just in case” he didn’t get the message with the scoop on her, I’ll go through it again. In other words - don’t be so into yourself and seemingly non-caring. Be polite. Ask how she’s doing. I haven’t heard from him since, and I realize it may be because he’s a little embarrassed. I left him a message tonight and all I said was that I hoped things were well with him, and that I wanted him to visit sometime soon so he could see the new stuff I got, which I told him about. As I told him, I don’t know what’s up with him lately. Is he clean? Is he working? Would it be best to get together at night or during the day? Of course, whenever he comes over, he’ll be a stoned ditz and it’ll be just like I was talking to the wall. He won’t remember shit about our visit. And asking him to come over sober won’t do me a damn bit of good. Yes, Andy is always a true friend, isn’t he?

Later…

OK, on with the good news. I doubled my rat collection and got that Angel doll I wanted!

First we went to a pet store to get another T-tube to make it easier for them to go between the middle two floors. Now they have two pink T’s, a purple curved, and a yellow straight tube. Since they’re too lazy to climb the straight tube, it’s just lying on its side in the cage.

Tom told the guy there that the wheels were missing from the cage we got, and he opened a cage box and gave us the wheels from it. That was easy enough.

Then I got Porky and Cutie. Porky’s solid dark brown, except for the white on his paws and belly, and Cutie’s all light tan. All four rats get along very well.

I also got some more sawdust and noticed that they make bigger balls. Those plastic balls that the hamster and gerbil used to run around in. Maybe someday I’ll get one for the rats.

Then we went to the doll store. They were having a sidewalk sale which seemed to be no big deal. They were plastic dolls for $40. But that’s what they usually sell for. Anyway, the guy there gave me a brand-new Angel doll right out of the box she’s shipped in. As usual, there’s a slight problem, but not nearly a big enough one worth taking her back. Well, it seems I have a problem with arms these days. First the lollipop doll had her arm out of position, and it seems Angel’s is bent a bit too far back, but I can live with it. One arm hangs straight down by her side. The other’s up and has her palm upright and opened by her face, which is turned to the side, as she holds the purple heart-shaped gemstone she came with that says the word “wish” on it. They did a good job on her hands. They’re more real-like compared to Edie’s and Anne’s, whose hands almost look like clubs.

She’s really gorgeous as far as her face, hair, and clothes go. Usually, it’s hard to get all three. Usually, if the face is nice, the hair’s pitiful, and if the outfit’s nice, the face sucks. She has blue eyes and dark blond hair like Rapunzel’s and Summer Dream’s. It’s between wavy and curly. I straightened it out a bit and it falls a little below her ass. She’s 14” tall and is on a thick, solid stand. This stand, like Summer Dream’s, grabs her at the crotch. Patrice’s stand grabs her at the thigh, Bailey sits, and the others are held by the waist.

They did a good job of making her hair look like it’s attached to her head, and not sitting on a bald head. There are two little braids at the sides that go to the back of her head and are tied with a purple ribbon. For someone who doesn’t like overly detailed things, her detail is exquisite. A halo sits on her head, going across her forehead. I had started off by having her hold this, instead of the gem, cuz I couldn’t get it to stay in her hand at first. It’s a really pretty halo of purple and gold with little pearls wrapped around it. She has a similar necklace on, too. I may make her an ankle bracelet later.

I chose not to attach her wings, which are white and gold and have the same sequins and pearls that her dress has. They’re sitting elsewhere in the living room. Her dress is lavender satin and chiffon. Three layers altogether. It’s off the shoulders, tied at the waist, and shorter in the front. It comes up almost to the knees in front and is to the table she’s on in back. She has purple silk pantaloons on, too. Does any doll come without pantaloons? The only one I’ve got without them is Patrice, although I can’t say for sure what’s under Bailey’s sleeper.

She’s very realistic looking, like Summer Dream and Patrice. Compared to Edie and Anne, she makes Edie and Anne look like geeks! She’s sitting by my monitor.

I never really believed in angels and being able to make wishes to a doll that’ll come true. I asked Tom if he believed in angel dolls granting wishes. He said he doesn’t believe, but he doesn’t disbelieve either, so I decided I’d put her to the test. I wished upon her that we’ll get to move before June. Tom said as long as he has me, he doesn’t need anything else and that anything else he gets is a bonus. I feel that way too, but it couldn’t hurt to test her out, even if I think it’s bullshit.

Later…

I guess Tom was right - Angel’s hand isn’t too far back. He said it looked like the model that was displayed in the store. I just went online and looked at the picture of her they had, and it looks the same.

I made her an ankle bracelet which really looks good.

I had made Bailey a necklace to cover up where her head and neck join but didn’t like how it looked. That’s only because the only halfway decent color I could find was clear neon orange. If it had been light blue or pale pink, then maybe it’d look OK.

Later…

Earlier I had Velvet out. Just now, I cleaned the rat’s cage, fed them, and gave them some attention.

The pet store had a much better selection this time around. The last time, all they really had was a couple of ugly chinchillas and white mice that were used for snake feed. This time, they had medium, large, and jumbo rats. These are large rats, although Mickey might be a medium rat.

If the light bulb on the freeloader’s front porch did burn out like I think it did, I hope they don’t get it in mind to replace the security light bulb too, when they hit the porch one. I do not want that thing glaring on and off at night when I’m trying to relax to music.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1998 Yesterday’s visit to Mel’s was no joyride. It hurt like hell when she went to tighten the bands and she even had to get the doctor’s help on one particular tooth.

She said I needed to brush better, which is hard with the braces on, and gave me a special little toothbrush designed to pick in between the braces.

She also still had my card and my card only! Didn’t she get other cards? It was sitting in the same spot by a picture of her dog. It was a white dog of some kind that’s kind of large.

Anyway, I’m a little sore now, but before I see her the next time around, I’m gonna take a ton of ibuprofen. At least I don’t have to see her again till February 1st.

Woke up at 109 pounds.

Tom brought home some leftover treats from work and about 5 more Christmas cards he got from coworkers. He also bought me a couple of puzzles at the grocery store. One’s a scene of the Virgin Islands with palm trees, and the other’s a dog and cat.

I realized something not too good and I hope this will never be the case, but if we put the house up for sale in March - what if it takes 8 months to a year to sell? God, I hope not!

I felt some pre-cramps a little while ago. See? I knew having clogged tubes was too “normal,” on top of all the reasons a kid is not meant to be. Because that is the problem for most women, and because the dye usually fixes that, I knew that wasn’t my case. If it’s common, it’s not me. I knew my problem went much deeper and I knew my uterus had something to do with it. Not my tubes. Tom says he got off cuz he had nothing to fear, but I wonder - could the test have only reassured him that there’s nothing to fear?

Well, the point is the same as it’s always been - whether I like it or not, I’m sterile for life. I was born this way. I’ll die this way.

Later…

I talked to Tammy at 8 AM her time. The girls are coming back today. Meanwhile, she’s been having a blast with Mark, and the T-shirts arrived there, too. She’s still having problems with Lisa. Lisa’s being rebellious, she says, and is lying and basically being lazy when it comes to chores. She also said Sarah said something about being afraid of Bill’s temper while in Florida but didn’t get into it. She said she doesn’t think he got physical with the girls, but he’s his usual angry self who’s hurting all three of the girls emotionally. It can hurt a kid when you tell them they’ll amount to no good, or something like that, just as much as if you’d hit that kid. Yes, verbal and emotional abuse can be just as damaging as physical abuse. So Tammy says she’s gonna look into getting his rights severed, and I hope to hell I’m wrong, but I say she’ll never succeed. The courts are too biology-obsessed. I asked her how she felt about beating the shit out of Bill or killing him and having it look like an accident and she said it wouldn’t do her any good and that two wrongs don’t make a right. Yeah, I know what she’s saying, but still, sometimes you’ve got to resort to violent measures in order to get someone off your ass and scared into doing right.

Speaking of doing right, it hurts and angers me to hear what she has to go through and I don’t need it any more than they do, so once again, should I walk away when we move?

Got a backache now. Another PMS symptom. I’m looking forward to getting my period, but I don’t actually sit and pray for it, cuz you don’t need to pray for what’s already a done deal. If something’s meant to be, it’s gonna be, and you don’t need to pray for it.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 28, 1998 Still no freeloaders, and still got the front light on.

I had a dream that they moved next door and I got to see the inside of their house, which looked nothing like it would in reality. It was a 2-story 4-bedroom house. In the dream, Miss Bitch had two daughters and a son. The house was furnished when I looked in it and I assumed that the state furnished the house for them. All they took was their stuff, but not all of it. They even left a few dolls behind, but they were ugly.

I also dreamt that the house out back that’s behind the old man’s house added a second floor to it.

I hope this dream isn’t a dream premonition and that the freeloaders stay put. Dreaming about Measles coming back didn’t happen, so that’s hopeful. The sad part of that, though, is that I really believe Measles is dead. Why else would she stay away for so long? She loved me and she knew I loved her. She knew she was my favorite bird.

I did some singing earlier. Just like old times, too. The singing was fine. It’s the congestion that got in the way. God’s just so determined not to let me fully use/enjoy my voice! Just think, I still couldn’t be a professional singer, even if I could keep a schedule, for the same reasons I couldn’t when I smoked. I’m just too damn congested. Tom says it’s Phoenix’s pollution, but what are we gonna do when the pollution catches up to where we’re moving to? Not only will we be hearing car stereos in Texas in another 10-20 years, but there won’t be any clean air left!

My weight’s right back to where it was before the torture I had on the 14th. I’m about 112 pounds, and I took a water pill, but I don’t know if it’ll help much.

To my surprise, I didn’t have tons of Evie messages yesterday or today.

Jackie and Jim gave us a little wooden wall hanging with a cactus, a roadrunner, and a mountain carved in it. I colored it in. So much for no one giving Christmas presents this year! It seems everyone did, but us. All we did was give Ma an electric stapler.

Speaking of Mom, she’s now in a care center just outside of the hospital. She’ll be there till she can gain enough mobility to go back home. Then when she does go back home, she’ll probably need hired help. Someone to sit with her while Mary and Dave are working during the daytime. Dave only stops in for lunch.

I asked Tom why he felt he had to be with Mom every day when that’s what the doctors and nurses are for. He said it’s because she was there for him when he was sick (he had meningitis as a kid). Well, that’s all well and good, but he was a child and that was her job to be with him. Meanwhile, she’s all grown up now and he’s not obligated to her like he seems to think he is. Well, at least he won’t be dumb enough to give her another four G’s, and as for time, she’s only got a year and a half of that left anyway, and I don’t need him with me as much as I needed him before. Now that my sex drive’s about as low as his and now that I don’t want a child, it makes it easier to deal with. I entertain myself very well with my hobbies. As he told me, though, he’s there for me if I need him. I know that. I know I’ll see him every day.

Paula left two messages after I crashed.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 27, 1998 The light’s still on, but it’s still dark inside the house and I haven’t heard or seen any cars. Maybe Bill came over to check things out and thought the light should be on for security measures.

Woke up at 110 pounds, and to a message from Paula. Yeah, she loves playing phone tag!

What a nail disaster I had yesterday! I tried to put the second set of nails on, but my nails are just too little. I had to do so much filing to try to get the nails to fit, that they just wouldn’t glue on right. The fucked up surface of my nails didn’t help either. They’re like sandpaper. I have to resurface my nails and get a new set, but I can only use one set in each package. Even the smallest nails have to be filed like hell to get them to fit.

I love my new game from Mary and Dave. It’s like a tiles game and it has lots of colorful tiles that are really pretty.

Later…

No freeloaders. At least not from what I can see. The light’s still on, so unless Miss Bitch came back before I got up and crashed before she could turn the light off, and is still out cold, Bill or some other associate of hers came over and left the light on on their way out.

I forgot to mention that it was Mom who got Tom the joystick. Mary and Dave got him a T-shirt. That seems to be a tradition here; getting Tom T-shirts when he doesn’t need them, cuz he has a ton of them.

Got some wine coolers for New Year’s Eve.

Later…

We went to have our weekend sex, but he was too stressed out over his mother. Couldn’t stay hard very well and couldn’t get on top. Yeah, old Marjorie’s interfering with our lives again and holding things up around here. God, I hope my vibe of her dying just after her 77th birthday is wrong. I’m like God, take this woman off our hands now! Nonetheless, things are continuing to go as vibed. Don’t get me wrong. She’s ill, she’s in pain, she’s out of her mind half the time. Tom says she asks if there are rabbits in the pail in the hall hospital, falls asleep during sentences, and forgets people’s names. Anyway, she may be in pain and she may be out of it, but she’ll be alive for a while yet. Thank God, for the millionth time, she’s not alone in her own house. That’d hog up more time that Tom doesn’t even have. God’s always had magnificent timing when it comes to having things happen in my life, be it to myself or to those I know, so why doesn’t he take her now? Now seems like an ideal time so we can get on with our lives and out of this house. I mean, doesn’t he want us to move on? We’re in our 30s and 40s, so I’d think he’d want us to live our lives and do the things we need/want to do.

Isn’t it funny how he doesn’t like Kim, who he claims woke him up while he slept through a million times more noise right next door, yet he goes to see his mother who took us for about $4,000 and God only knows how many hours of time.

Currently, our plan is to go to the doll store on Tuesday, but why do I have a feeling that good old Marjorie’s gonna change that?

There are no freeloaders next door. I didn’t hear the Sunday morning door slamming. I’ve heard nothing, and there’s no way the house would be dark from as early as 9 PM on a Saturday night all night, and there’s no way I wouldn’t have heard door-slamming last night and this morning if there was someone there.

I called Paula who told me she’d call me back, which really means she’ll call me back in a few days or even a few weeks. I don’t know why she’s so obsessed with playing phone tag, but it’s very obvious that this is the case.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 26, 1998 This is the current eating plan - to not worry about what I eat from now till I get up the next time I get up. When I get up, though, I’ll have basically liquids till Monday to compensate for these Christmas treats I’ve been having. Then, every day I’ll have my chicken TV dinner and chicken soup. Every other day I’ll have bean soup and popcorn. I’ll also have unlimited amounts of chicken broth, Jell-O, and things like that.

I have no desire to be a doll sculptor and could never imagine myself being able to be in a million years. I mean, it’s hard enough to draw faces on paper, so I don’t know how the hell I could ever shape one out of clay. What I do want to be is a doll maker who assembles the dolls and picks out their clothes, different faces, hair colors/styles, and things like that. I want to buy doll parts to make dolls for myself, as well as to sell them. So after we move, and after I’m in a place where there’s more room, I’m gonna start with getting a doll kit, which costs around the same price as a doll. Then, I’ll buy bulk quantities and see about selling them. The store in the mall may be willing to sell people’s dolls.

I guess we’re going on Tuesday to get another T-tube for the rats and to get Angel if she’s still there. Tom’s sure she is there. I hope so!

Later…

It looks like the little freeloaders are to be returning tonight, cuz someone turned the front light on. There’s no car over there now, but I take it Bill came over to turn the light on for the bitch and that the bitch will be here any moment since the inside of the house looks too dark for anyone to be in there unless they came in before I got up and crashed very early. I was hoping they’d stay away through the New Year. Now, who knows how rowdy things will be over there for New Year’s Eve, although they’ve never been here during a New Year’s Eve yet.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1998 I did a load of laundry and watched a movie. Soon I’ll go begin Ghost Story and hope it’s good.

Just got off-line thanking David, Evie, Steven and Carol for their gifts. Got a total of ten Christmas cards, too. I also saw Alex on my buddy list, so we swapped Merry Christmas messages.

Got some unexpected surprises today. At Mary’s house, Mary and Dave got Tom a joystick, and me a 3-D puzzle game you play on the computer. There was a box of hair accessories from Mom, nuts from David and Evie, a small wolf blanket from Carol and Steven, and this really cool clock from Ray and Nora that I wanted to get myself but forgot about. At each hour is a picture of a different bird that chirps its sounds at the hour. The great horned owl is at the twelfth hour, for example, and the song sparrow is at the eighth hour. This is much better than having a live bird here in the house! That Tweety bird was way too obnoxious! It has a light sensor too, so that the birds won’t chirp if you have it in the bedroom or something like that.

The blanket will be good for Tom to use next time we sleep together. That way, if he pulls the covers I shouldn’t feel it.

The hair accessories consist of a few different sizes of claw clips and some cloth-covered hair elastics.

Mom’s still hanging in there, but who knows when she’ll be able to go home? It’ll probably be a few weeks.

Tammy called to say in a message to us that she had a wonderful Christmas party with Mark and Stephanie. That’s Mark’s 18-year-old daughter.

Andy called too, leaving a message about how he went to Donna’s and got some unexpected gifts. As usual, so into himself, too. Not a word about Mom. Not an “I’m sorry to hear about Tom’s mom,” or a “How is she doing now?”

Later…

The Baltimore oriole went off at 10:00, and at midnight, off goes the owl.

Any sec now I should have my spot that I get a week before my period. I felt pre-cramps, I think. My tits are also doing well this month as far as soreness goes.

I didn’t like the book Ghost Story but began A Cry in the Woods last night and got 115 pages into it.

Tom told me the renters are really weird. They talk on their cordless phone while standing in the driveway. People out here tend to hang out in their front yards, but yup, that’s a weird one. If you’re gonna talk on the phone outside, why not sit in a chair on your patio or porch? Why stand in the middle of your driveway?

Also, at 1:15 last night, for about 20 minutes, some people were out partying. I couldn’t fucking believe it! I know this is Arizona, but this wasn’t 1 PM on a winter’s day or 9 PM on a summer’s night. This was in the middle of a freezing December night! All I heard were voices laughing and talking, but the weird thing about it was that I couldn’t see anyone. I thought it could be one of the houses across the street, but I never saw any movement or people.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 24, 1998 Carol and Steven got a computer and emailed Tom the other day. He gave them my email address, and I went into the mail controls and added their email address to my list so that any messages they may send me can get through.

Tom thinks he knows who those people were in the red pickup that came next door two days ago. He thinks they’re people from the church the bitch goes to, coming to see if her lawn needed mowing. He thinks the church handles her lawn. I always did say the bitch only went to church to see what she could get from it, but why were they here for 45 minutes? I asked Tom. He said they were probably just standing around in back talking. Then the next day, today, the lawn was done. I told Tom he ought to go to church and cry needy so he can have his yard work done for him.

The house is still dark and deserted, so hopefully the little bitch shit will stay away till after the New Year.

I got an unexpected letter from Andy. It had a couple of Stevie pictures on it that I guess he printed out at work or at the college he goes to when he goes to browse the internet. It was full of the usual gibberish.

Now for my surprising news. I’m 108 pounds! Exactly what I was when I quit smoking. Just last night, though, I was 113 and had to take a water pill, so I can forget about shitting today. I’m having my bean soup today, so I can shit tomorrow.

I’m quite proud of myself for quitting smoking and losing weight. Both took serious discipline and very hard work.

Ma had her gallbladder removed this morning. It was very infected. Hopefully, this explains why she was in so much pain and why she was delirious. Her fever’s gone down, so that’s good, and fever is a sign of infection. She’ll probably be in the hospital for a few weeks, but at least she’ll be going home to Mary and Dave’s and not going home alone where it’s really hard on other family members who have to take time out of their daily lives to go see/help her get by.

When I got up, I saw Tom’s Christmas card from Mom on the kitchen table with a $50 bill lying on it. I realized, upon opening my card, that if he got $50, so did I. Any amount is generous and perfectly acceptable, but with only 50 dollars, I knew I could forget about that angel doll I wanted and start thinking of what I wanted to do with $50. Buy more rats, clothes, CDs, whatever. But then I was holding two $50 bills! These were brand new bills and they were stuck together. I checked Tom’s money again and he too, had two bills, so now all I have to do is hope Angel of Wishes, as is her full name, is still at the store. With my rotten doll luck, she’ll be gone.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 23, 1998 I’m even surer that Miss Bitch is out of town, but won’t be totally sure until the night passes without any cars coming in. Again, once it’s dark I’ll see if I can see lights on, but we both think it’s out of town.

Tom saw something very weird next door yesterday. He said a red pickup was parked on the street and an odd-looking white woman and man got out, walked directly into the carport, then left a half-hour later although he didn’t actually see them leave. It was as if they knew no one was home, he said. But since when have they ever had white friends? And why would anyone, of any color, come over if they knew she was out? To check and make sure there was no vandalism? Or were these white supremacists? People who knew the house was empty and were scouting it out to break in? Who were they and why were they here?

Tom brought home a rum cake that a woman at work made, a card from her, and a card from some guy at work too. And Evie said I guessed right. It is food she’s got for us. Food, food, food! I awoke at 110 pounds, but I need to clean myself out my way and just have liquids for a day or two.

Tom thinks this is great and perfectly OK, and that’s that Dureen and Art sent his mom a Christmas card. I have mixed emotions about it. I know how impressed with Marge they were, but still, they need to move on and forget about anyone with the last name S, just like I’ve moved on. As I told Tom too, I’m probably gonna walk and not give Tammy our new number and address when we move. It’s best that I just wonder about Lisa for the rest of my life, rather than keep that last remaining tie to the past open. The past excludes friends like Andy and Kim. I mean family ties. It’s just that if I don’t fully sever all those ties, I can’t fully move on like I need to. Tom says it’s too soon to make any decisions like that. Maybe.

Later…

It’s dark and deserted next door. If she is gone, I hope she doesn’t come back till after the New Year and not just after Christmas. I looked back and from what I wrote, I think they do stay away till either New Year’s Day or the day after.

Andy left a message about the usual - not enough work at the temp agency. Basically, all he talks about these days is phones, work, and pot, so I figured it was one of them. He’s still getting high from what he told me, too. Anyway, I left him a message about Mom, which I’ll get into in a minute.

There was a call from Dr. Brown’s office asking if I had the IVP test. I told her I had that and the HSG on the 14th. She said she called Genesis and was told there was a record of me having an appointment that day, but nothing was written about it. So I told her how screwy they were, questioning the tests that were ordered, and how they got a new computer system. Tom said they’ll find it. She said maybe she called the wrong one. There’s more than one Genesis Imaging Center, so I told her the one I went to. What? Did God erase the test results from their computer system? Or are they just that fucked up at Genesis? As I told Tom, if they do lose all their info I’m not repeating these tests. She wondered if Dr. Wells got a report yet, but who knows? She could be out of town. I told her I wasn’t going to call her till after the holidays.

When I got up, Tom told me Mom was still delirious, still in pain, and no one knew for sure what was the cause of this and how to deal with it. So, according to messages we got from Mary, then from Evie, they are gonna do gallbladder surgery on Mom tomorrow morning at 8 AM, since they know she has gallstones, and since they gotta try something.

I went through my cards and pulled out a blank one for her which I turned into a little get-well card for her. Although she’s used the hell out of us since Dad died, I feel bad for her having to suffer like this. She’s still basically a much better person than your average person will ever be.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1998 Just called Tammy to let her know their Chanukah presents were on their way and to let me know if she gets them OK. She said she’s alone with Mark. The girls are in Florida with Bill and her ex-in-laws. I asked if they’d be stopping by you know who’s, but nope. I asked if they sent Chanukah presents for the girls and she said yes. I asked if she had them returned and she said no, they arrived when she was out. I warned her that they may use the girls to get at her, but she said they wouldn’t, they haven’t even called. I really believe, though, that someday they’ll kiss and make up and it’s too bad. If they do, and if Tammy pressures me to get all lovey-dovey with these people again, I’m gone. She can do what she wants and live her life, even if I don’t always agree with her ways, but I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do as well.

Later…

The phone rang and I saw it was from a payphone and figured it was either Andy or Mary calling to say they broke down and needed a ride. Well, it was Mary, but she didn’t break down. She was calling to let us know she brought Mom to the ER. She said something about an infection, CAT scans, and no bleeding in the brain, not to worry, and that she doesn’t know much right now but will call back later.

At first I thought of waking up Tom but then thought against it for two reasons. He has to work tonight, and also, there’s nothing he could do from what I heard in her message. I’m not gonna answer when she calls back, either. I’m gonna let her leave a message so Tom can hear what she has to say directly. I wouldn’t want to take a chance of misinterpreting her.

I don’t have any death vibes about Mom. I think she’ll be OK and with us till August or September of 2000. I’m just glad, for everyone’s sake, that she doesn’t live in that house anymore and that it’s sold!

Tom fixed the printer so it shows the ink status again. I like that better.

The dumpster’s gone now so I guess that’s the freeloader’s cue to get us back for all the noise.

Bill wasn’t here today. In fact, I haven’t seen any car since I got up at 1 PM. My current conclusion is that the cock did head out of the state and left the bitch behind. Why? Who knows? Meanwhile, the bitch, who obviously has time off, is spending her days elsewhere. Someone must be picking her up in the mornings and bringing her back at night. As soon as the sun goes down, I’ll see if I can see if her front light is on. If she’s out and doesn’t plan on coming back till after dark, the light should be on now. It’s a little unnerving knowing she has the whole week off, but thanks to the city and those letters, it’s not as unnerving as it could be! I’ll bet if she knew she could still get away with raising hell over there, she’d spend every day off doing so. Since she knows she can’t, this may be why she isn’t around very much during her days off. In fact, since we complained to the city, she does seem to be out much more often. She probably figures that since she can’t stay home and bother me along with her cronies, she may as well not even bother staying here too much. It probably pisses her off to stay here and be just a few feet away from someone she detests.

Another call from Mary just came in, so I’ll go hear what she has to say this time around.

Later…

All Mary had to say was that they were still in the ER, they were going to admit her, and as soon as she knew a room number she’d call back.

Changing the rats was a near disaster! I thought they’d stay out of the way, but nope. First Ratsy got in the way and I had to shoo him out of the way, then Mickey decided to hop on out and panic on me. It’s amazing his tail didn’t come off or that he didn’t escape! He started to run, then I caught him by the tail. He spun around and around like hell and I had to kind of toss him onto the upper levels of the cage. I finally got them cleaned, though, and rewarded them with cheese, lettuce, and their regular food. It also appears we don’t need to get them ramps or T-tubes for easier access to the upper levels. They’ve been going up there themselves lately.

No eating for me today. No more than half of a TV dinner I had and some Jell-O. I woke up at 111 pounds and climbing. I didn’t shit yesterday, but I did today, so that’ll help. Still, I ate more than I should’ve yesterday and the day before. Also, if Tom stops over at Ma’s tomorrow and finds that it is junk food that Evie’s made us, I want to watch it today so I can enjoy this junk food. If I stayed around 115 pounds for four months, does this mean I’ll stay around 110 pounds for six months or more?

As the days have passed since my testing at Genesis, I find myself less and less curious as to what the next step may be, and more and more finished with this subject. I’m not saying for sure I’m either gonna do this or do that, but I think I’m done with this chapter of my life. I really don’t want a child. I don’t want to give up my time and my freedom to a kid. I want to be with my husband, and I want to have the time, freedom, and money to buy things. I like to shop, and I like to collect things and that’s just how I am, selfish or not. No, it wouldn’t kill me if I couldn’t sing at 2 AM, but it’s still nice to know I can if I want to.

Another reason I think I’m done is that I think I got my answers. I suspected my uterus all along as being the reason I can’t have a kid, and it looks like I very well may have been right. Either way, the more I don’t want a kid, the less I care about the cause of my sterility.

Later…

The front light isn’t on and neither are their lights on in the house. I’d say she’s not home. She wouldn’t stay home these many hours without company. There’d have been cars coming and going if she’d been home since I got up.

Later…

Miss Bitch is definitely, definitely not home. The house is still dark both inside and out.

I went to check out doll catalogs online last night just to see what I could find, and oh my God! I found dolls way better than what you’d find in stores. They were just to die for! Sadly enough, though, they ranged from many hundreds to even many thousands of dollars! The clothes are similar to the ones in the stores and like what I’ve got, but what made these different was their size and reality. They were mostly around 30” and so realistic looking. They looked more like real photographs of people than dolls.

Later…

Mary just called again from home and said something about doing gallstone surgery on Mom.

Next door’s still dark and deserted. I haven’t heard any car doors, either.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 21, 1998 And now it’ll gradually get lighter earlier and darker later. I don’t really like that being in the city. In the city, that’s at least three extra hours that they could play ball, for example, when the days are longer.

Tom just ran out to pick me up some coffee and to get mailers for the T-shirts. They should get the shirts by Saturday.

Tom called to have the dumpster picked up. They’re gonna pick it up tomorrow, I guess, then send him a bill for the extra days he used it.

I’m not going to do much cleaning up in the backyard since he’s gonna be doing the back patio. The front’s all done, though.

I missed having my dolls set up, so I put them in places it’s never leaked before. I wanted them all in the same room so I can show them to Andy whenever he’s here again, and so I could easily grab them all and cover them if it does start leaking where I put them.

Later…

This bitch next door looks like she has some time off. I haven’t seen the cock’s car, so he may have gone out of town. Meanwhile, the bitch appears to have time off, like I said, so I don’t know why she didn’t go with him. Bill wasn’t there when I peeked out this morning, and the big white car just dropped her off, which is a wee bit late if she had to get up early the next day. This white car is more like a Bronco or Blazer-type vehicle. It was also one of the loudest visitors as far as music goes, but thanks to the city, they were quiet. The light’s off now, so I guess that’s it for tonight, although the light was off earlier and I thought she was in for the night, so we’ll see.

I just hope to hell that she goes elsewhere for Christmas and for New Year’s Eve if she’s staying in town. I have a feeling, though, that since they’ll see the dumpster gone tomorrow, and since it’s Christmas, and since it’s been a while since there’s been a quick little show from over there to serve as a reminder of their existence, they’ll raise hell over here in regards to us and all our hammering. I think it may be like Easter, only minus the music. I think we’re talking lots of cars and door-slams, and certainly lots of screaming kids playing ball for hours. Thank God it’ll be dark at 5:30 and not 8:00!

When Tom got his jury summons, I figured I was next, since the last time mine came after he got his. His is for Phoenix, but mine’s for Mesa. He said to go ahead and send them a note asking for a dismissal, but he’ll bet I won’t get called for this anyway. Oh, they got a note alright. No more courts for me! I told them how I was unstable right now with personal problems and a bit bitter towards the courts for getting convicted of making prank phone calls in the early 90s.

Yesterday’s sleeping together didn’t go so well. It figures, huh? Maybe we ought to try using separate comforters when we sleep together, cuz the second time he woke me up was cuz I felt him pulling the covers across me. The first time was when he got into bed about five hours after I had crashed. We have a deal, though, that when I get to be about a week away from an appointment, we sleep separately. Thank God this man is so supportive, patient, understanding, and not your typical male!

Got a letter from Bob today. He said just what I expected he’d say, too. That he wasn’t too happy about the idea of her moving in with Walter since he’s jealous. And he wasn’t too thrilled that she’d take anything to enlarge her tits.

I improved Sunshine and Lollipops by semi-straightening her hair. It’s still curly, but I pulled the curls out a bit. This way, it looks more like she’s got two ponytails. Before, it was so bunched up that it looked more like loose curls. Also, her arm was out of position when I got her, as I mentioned. It’s supposed to be off to the side, but it’s more towards the front of her. Since I couldn’t fix her, I put her hand in one of her pockets to make it look like she’s reaching for another lollipop, and I like this much better.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 20, 1998 As I last said - the freeloader’s front light was on last night at 9:00 when the white car came in. At 11:00, I saw it was still on and wondered if the bitch forgot to turn it off, but nope. The white car came in again just after midnight, then that was it.

At 6:30 today, the white car came in, then split, but the light was still on so I knew someone else would be coming in. At 7:20, Bill came in, left, then returned at 8:15. Then the light went off. So, she’s tucked in for the night. I guess he took his bitch daughter grocery shopping. It was dark, but it looked like those could’ve been grocery bags, anyway. I can also tell in the dark who’s who. I can tell Bill’s slow shuffle from the bitch’s aggressive walk. The bitch almost bounces when she walks, she’s so furious half the time! It’s like a bouncy trot. Just about ready to break into a run.

I didn’t see the cock’s car today. Did it go out of town for Christmas? Well, if I don’t see it tomorrow, then I probably could assume it did, since it doesn’t stay away more than two days lately.

The tree in front of their house serves as a landmark for nighttime spying. The streetlight casts light upon it so I can see if there’s a car there by how much of the tree I can see. Usually, it’s lit up enough to see the silhouette and metallic gleam of any car that might be parked there at night without the tree, but the tree helps, anyway. The landmark tree also tells me if their front light is on since we can’t see their front door/porch from our front door/living room window. I can tell by how bright the light reflects off the tree if it’s on or not.

Cindy left a message and Tom called her back. She just wanted to know about wires for putting in a phone jack. I’m surprised she didn’t need Tom to come over and do something for her.

We finally got Tammy and the girl’s Chanukah T-shirts done, although it’s a little late. I told them it may be a little late, though. I picked out the pictures, printed them out, decided who’d get which ones, then Tom ironed them on. He did a great job. They got a mix of pictures of themselves, us, and even a couple of Nana and Pa. I didn’t do any of our pets.

Tom will be picking up mailbags tomorrow for us to mail these out.

We’ll also be wrapping up Ma’s electric stapler he got her.

In Evie’s email to me, she said she brought Christmas presents over to Ma’s house, so we can pick ours up anytime, and she’s willing to do refills if we like it. Well, I don’t know what it is, but Tom thinks it’s food. I wouldn’t be surprised. Just when I have to be so strict with my calorie intake, here comes all kinds of junk!

I woke up at 110 pounds and just when I was wondering if I should pig out and up to 112 so I could shit, I shit. Not very much, but it’s a start.

I typed up Tom a half-wacky, half-serious letter as an excuse to show him my “hidden message.” I typed the letter as I usually would, then I highlighted and changed the color of letters throughout the page to form the words I love you. Did this in one of the freeloader’s pages too, but I certainly didn’t make the words I love you. I just did the bitch’s last name.

Tom’s really put a dent in the cleanup around here. Well, maybe not the side yet, but the front and the back. He even trimmed the front tree! I never thought he would till the day before we moved. It looks much better, and now I can see more when spying. I can see the street now, but before, I could only see part of it.

We didn’t have sex today, and I know his cumming will always be something he rarely does, but he sure did shock me with cumming yesterday! He said he should take Ibuprofen when we really want him to cum, cuz it helps with aches and pains and shit like that. He said he’s had this all his life. I wonder why? Anyway, why did he cum yesterday? To try to cover for his fears by cumming when I’m mid-cycle and after having that dye? Or cuz he knows my uterus is still as it is and that it cannot carry a child? Some other reason?

Well, I can’t say I’m not glad to know that yesterday’s fun didn’t get me pregnant. That’s not what I really want. What I really want is to spend my time and money on moving and buying things. Not put my time and money into a kid. He reminded me earlier that we need to save money after the 1st so we can move. I agree. Poor guy hasn’t even had time yet to go gambling or use his share of the money for fun things for himself. He has gotten a few things, though.

I didn’t call the doctor last Friday, cuz Tom suggested I don’t till I see how the sex goes this weekend, and then I can decide whether or not to carry on with this fertility thing. I may not even call them this week either, what with Christmas and all that going on this week. I may wait till after Christmas unless I hear from her.

As I told Tom, the truth, and his happiness are what matters to me. He doesn’t have to cum if he doesn’t want to. He just has to be honest about it.

Evie was reminding me once again how the odds were against her having kids, then she got married, having kids was the last thing on her mind, and then she found out she was pregnant. Yeah, yeah. I know these things happen to people, but other people. These things don’t happen to me. I know what she means by life being full of surprises, as I told her. I certainly didn’t expect to get married. I thought I’d be single and loveless all my life, but there are some things that just don’t happen to me. Not everything can happen to everyone. She also doesn’t know she’s dealing with a psychic here who knows these things. If yesterday’s sex was gonna spawn a child, I’d know it. I’d sense it.

I’m now reading Ghost Child by Duffy Stein and it’s great. Just the kind of story I like.

Did you know that these houses are so close that I can see the security light when it’s on two yards down where the dogs are from inside this house? Even when it’s not totally dark yet and even with the kitchen light on I can see it cuz it’s so bright. Thank God that’s not right next to us!

So are the freeloaders and the people with the dogs still friends? Neither of us has seen them socializing in quite a while and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if they had a fight.

In one of Evie’s little joke things she sends, there was this thing with trivial shit in it and one of the things said that beating your head in the wall burns up to 150 calories. This one cracked me up. Totally reminded me of Bob and how he’d do that to try to get Kim’s attention.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 19, 1998 Didn’t hear the bitch return last night, but when I peeked out at around 11 PM, the light was off.

The cock’s here now. It’s been here since noon when I got up. I just saw it come out and fumble with something in the backseat, then it got out and headed back into the house.

Woke up at 110 pounds. Two more pounds, then I can shit.

Later…

Sunshine and Lollipops is here! Can you believe she only took 17 days to get here? She’s a cutie. Even cuter than in her catalog with her brown pigtails, eyes, and happy smile (the dolls seem to look better in person). She’s my first with pigtails, socks, the style of shoes she wears, a yellow dress, freckles, and the toothy smile she’s got. You can see her top teeth. But as you know, I have lousy doll luck. I can’t quite pose her as her picture shows her posed, but it’s a minor thing, and it’s certainly not worth sending her back over. She’s got a big lollipop which she holds and two little ones in her dress pocket. Just like I did with Patrice and Summer Dream, the dolls I got from Ashton-Drake, I scanned their certificates of authenticity and sent their pictures to Tammy so she could get an idea of some of the dolls I collect.

I’ve decided that after I get that angel doll if I get her, I’m gonna hang up the porcelain doll collecting for a while and get some of those Barbie dolls after all. I just love their outfits. At least they range from $12-$20, rather than $40-$300, as my porcelain dolls do.

At 3:30, the bitch and cock left. I think their great big mistake went along, too. They must’ve gone to some party, cuz the bitch was pretty decked out in a short black skirt, and what appeared to be a maroon velour top. A half-hour ago at 9:00, a white car came in and I heard several door slams. Ever since then, the front light’s been on, so who knows if she’s expecting someone, or what.

Tom said that the reason there haven’t been ball games lately may be cuz of the roofing. They may have feared that the kids will get hit with the roofing shit he’d toss down. He almost nailed the mailman good. Whatever, but as soon as the freeloaders see the dumpster gone and realize that he’s all done, then yes, it’ll be payback time as far as the noise department is concerned, and since they can’t do music anymore and get away with it, they’ll send the kids and their fucking basketballs after us. How sick; to use kids to harass adults.

For the third or fourth time since putting these airbrushed nails on, one popped off. I got sick of them, being the pain in the ass that they are, and decided to give myself a break from them. I popped most of them off after a little tugging, but I had to use the acetone stuff to get rid of the rest. Still, it was different, and it was fun and I’ll probably do this every now and then. For now, I’ve got my glitter polish on.

Tom came today! Yeah, he actually came, but right now, I’m tired of writing and I think I’ll go read.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 18, 1998 I was right about the bitch. It was out with its cock last night. It came in around 10 PM.

I asked Tom if he thought the cock was on its way back in and he said no. He said he thinks they probably went out to pick out a Christmas present for their mistake together, and because the stores are mobbed at this time of year, it took them hours.

At 1:30 PM today, I saw the cock, the kid, and some other guy get out of the cock’s car, which was parked in the street since that was during business hours. El Cocko was wearing a red sports shirt. Guess as Tom said, he has some time off, since people get time off at this time of year. The dude he was with was little. Sort of short and very thin. He had on tight jeans, a black leather jacket, and a cowboy-type hat. I think it was black with a wide brim. Both guys were carrying stuff. Maybe food. They weren’t here long.

At 4:30 PM, Bill left as usual, and returned at 5:22. He should be pulling out any sec now, then the cock should show up for an hour or two.

I hope Tom’s right when he says it’s very unlikely that this country will be bombed in our lifetime since we’re the ones with all the bombs and resources to make them. Iraq can’t bomb us back now, but I hope to hell he’s right and that they don’t find a way to develop the technology to bomb us in 15 years.

I got a message from Evie and called her back. It seems good old Nora is trying to dump Jennifer off on some family member. She called Evie all hysterical from work and said she was gonna call us, but she hasn’t wasted her time yet. Evie told her she didn’t think it’d be good for Jennifer to be placed in different places temporarily. She thinks she should be adopted. The problem with adopting, though, is that no one wants older kids. If they’re more than a day old, they don’t want them. Also, Jennifer’s an aggressive, violent, hyper bitch, thanks to her wonderful mom, so no one wants her. She keeps getting kicked out of the foster homes they stick her in. Evie doesn’t want her beating up on her kids.

I knew Tom was wrong too, when he said they said Pam could never have Jennifer back under any circumstances. They told her she could have her back either in 90 days or if she could provide a home for her. As I told Tom, our lovely system will see to it that Pam gets Jennifer back, even though they both should be killed. Jennifer should be killed cuz her future is already doomed, and people like Pam should be killed cuz they’re sick fucks. Since they’re not gonna kill her, why don’t they order her to have her tubes tied and to stay away from all children for the rest of her life, no matter what her life is like? They should! She’s not in the psyche ward anymore, either. She’s in a shelter and able to have another kid now. She’ll be getting pregnant again anytime now, trust me. You take a kid away from its mother and the mother turns right around and has more. It happens all the time.

Anyway, Tom would never go for a calm kid in here for a while, let alone one that wild, and I totally agree. Also, I meant it when I said that if I’m not good enough for my own kid, in God’s eyes, then I’m not good enough for someone else’s, even if it was just for a little while. Lisa would’ve been different cuz of her age.

Bill left just a few minutes ago. Mr. Cocko shall be pulling in any sec.

I woke at 109 pounds and still haven’t shit, either. Tom says that’s normal after taking the enema. Yeah, I’ll shit when I shit. Meanwhile, I’m surprised I’m not back between 112-115 pounds.

Later…

Miss Bitch is having company tonight. The front light’s on. Unless that thunk I just heard was someone picking her up. Might’ve been the recycle bin cover, but I don’t know. It leaves the light on when it’s expecting company, has company or is going out. I looked out front and in the carport, but I didn’t see a car and I didn’t see headlights shining on the music room wall where I was just now, so I’d guess she dumped some shit in her bin, and is waiting for her cock. After all, the lights are on over there, too. So someone’s there.

I decided to take a break from my near-starving regimen and have a couple of Tom’s pork chops he got. Well, they were good, but now the guilt’s set in and I feel like I automatically gained 5 pounds. I feel fat! It was good to fill up, though. I haven’t been that full in a long time, although nowadays, it doesn’t last long with me. Anyway, since I already blew it today and had over 1000 calories (those pork chops alone were about 1000 calories right there), I won’t worry about how many 70-calorie cups of coffee I have for the remainder of the night. Tomorrow, I gotta get back on track. Don’t want to throw all my hard work away. I had to get sick for most of this! Maybe, though, I should take a suppository once a week or so. At least it works 15 minutes later and not 5 hours later when you’re asleep. It’s funny how it’s after I stop walking that I lose more weight.

Evie said what I figured she’d say - she’s nowhere near her goal of 125 pounds for Christmas. She only lost about 15 pounds, which would put her around 160, and has gained 4 pounds back. Yeah, that’s the life of a mother for you. Also, maybe she shovels thousands of calories a day into her mouth. Who knows? I’m not there to see how she eats.

Later…

I think the bitch is out somewhere. After I heard the thunk of what I thought was a car door, I saw shadows moving over there in front. The light’s still on but there’s no car here, and also, it is dark inside. I can see two of her windows from the music room and the one in front is dark. The one in back, which is the kitchen, has a dim light shining through. So, someone got in a car when I heard the thunk, the shadows were caused by someone else going back in to kill most of the lights, or coming out after just doing so, then they took off.

Later…

Bitch still isn’t back yet.

Just watched L.A. Detectives which was a dumb thing to do. It only depressed me to see a case of this guy who shot his kids, his wife, then himself. Ain’t God just wonderful? Yeah, it just makes me hate and fear him all the more knowing he could allow this to happen. At least he allowed the guy to shoot himself in the end.

Now that’s justice.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 17, 1998 Got an email from Marla and Evie in regard to my testing and questioning how I could handle a kid if that had been meant to be. They’re jumping the gun, though, and making false assumptions by getting it into their minds that we’re gonna have a kid. We’re not, and I told them so. I’m just trying to get info.

Marla told me she’d print out my message for Linda when she sees her this weekend. They live 20 minutes apart. She and Linda also told me something I didn’t know. She said contractions don’t feel like period cramps. That’s nice to know. I hate cramps! They’re just about the worst. They also told me that after the labor pains peak, you don’t feel pain. All you feel is like you have to take a shit, then the baby comes out. Really? But what about the pain of it going through the cervix and vagina? They all say it’s worth it and quickly forgotten. Evie said she was too late in getting to the hospital to take any meds, but she survived. How can an hour and a half be too late? Evie also said she’d hang onto some old maternity things for me, which I told her not to do. I told her a child isn’t meant to be. Period. But I was now OK with that and I know that this only means that God has other plans for me. Not just that I couldn’t handle a child (she said God would help me through the pain of that and not let me hurt for too long). I can’t let myself get hooked back into this child thing. I don’t want to rekindle old dreams that can never be brought to reality. If they fixed me tomorrow and if God suddenly didn’t care if I had a kid or not, my husband still does. He would never allow me to conceive. He would never cum again and if he did, he’d make sure to do it at a safe time.

What if they said I needed in vitro? I mean, what would he do? Feel so trapped and so cornered, say he’ll go along with it, but then refuse to let them have his cum so I could never have this done? Not that I would, cuz I couldn’t handle it.

Well, no matter what the doctor tells me when I hear from her, my destiny is my freedom and my husband. Building that dream house, buying things, my critters, etc.

Later…

Tom brought home some more of that stuff to seal around the AC and cooler. He said yes, the rain did wash the other sealer away as he suspected. I’ll still never believe that this leaking can be stopped without seeing it first. Seeing is believing for me.

He said we’re gonna have to keep the dumpster through the weekend (we were gonna have it out of here by the weekend) and that maybe he’ll call them Saturday.

He also bought a new toilet kit. Last time, we bought a new handle, but this time he bought a new sealer. The part that seals up the hole for when the water fills, and that flaps up to let the water out.

In case I didn’t mention this, I’ve given Tom all the change I’ve been saving up so he can buy the headphones he wants for Christmas. There’s a little extra, cuz the headphones only cost about $30. These are wireless too, but they’re the kind you need to be in the same room with whatever you’re using them in. This way, we can hook the ones where you don’t need to be to my stereo, so I can use these headphones to listen to music if I want to while he’s got the TV headphones on. He’s gonna use the change at the grocery store and take other money for the headphones. There’s a machine there that counts change and gives you bills for it. He’ll let me know just how much money was there since we didn’t count it all.

Andy left a message Tuesday that I didn’t even know Tom saved for me. Sometimes I forget to check for saved messages. Anyway, Andy was asking me to be more specific about the testing and asked if I can have kids or not. That was sweet of him to care enough to ask. I know these things gross him out too, so I had been being careful with what I said. I told him that under no circumstances whatsoever would God allow me a child, and that although my uterus doesn’t look great, I don’t know enough at this point. All I’m trying to do now is seek out info.

I reminded Evie about this too, who’s jumping the gun by saying she’s still got some maternity clothes around that she’ll hang onto for me. Then Tom reminded me that I could fit into Evie’s regular clothes if I were nine months pregnant, she’s so big.

Tom also feels that my fallopian tubes still could’ve been blocked and that the dye flushed any blockage out. He said they can’t always tell if your tubes are blocked. My tubes weren’t blocked. I just know they weren’t.

After I told Tom that I was confused and unsure of what to do next, he made a so-called deal with me. I told him that I still feel just as controlled by him as I do by God and that if I got fixed and decided I wanted to conceive, and if God suddenly didn’t care whether or not I conceived, he’d never let me. He’d play God with my life. So, I was thinking of canceling this fertility thing, since as he agreed, we need the sex to be normal for this. Even if he wasn’t full of it, and even if he had cum all along, he hasn’t cum since the appointment and roof. There are just too many things he needs to fix and if God hadn’t sealed my fate as far as a kid goes, he has, so what the hell? Most women who are sterile can go get fixed and have a normal enough sex life with which to conceive. But I’m a unique case within a unique case. Totally controlled by both Tom and God. What they say goes. Tom’s the one with the sperm, he knows it, and God isn’t about to step in and make Tom squirt his cum into me regularly. Then he told me to just give us the weekend to have sex now that my tubes could be unblocked and now that I’m mid-cycle, see what it’s like, then make a decision. I’ve been through these so-called deals with him before, and the wait-and-see crap. But I have seen. First of all, he’s just gonna lie and say he came when he didn’t, and if he did, one weekend of him cumming isn’t gonna cut it. He needs to cum more than three times a year for him to say he’s cumming regularly and be telling the truth. He also needs to come more than that in order to leave it up to God to decide if I should conceive and not be manipulating and trying to control things.

I wonder, though, about another possibility. Maybe he will admit he didn’t cum this weekend. Or maybe he’ll boldly look me in the eye and lie and say he did. Is he contemplating or planning on admitting he didn’t cum with the hopes of me canceling the fertility testing cuz of it? Could be. Maybe I should insist he came and let him go along with it. If he went along with it in the past, why not now? Then we won’t have to discuss it. A part of me wishes I never bothered letting him know I knew all along he wasn’t cumming. I knew he’d either make an excuse for lying or just plain old deny it. That’s the awful thing about this otherwise wonderful man who’s one in millions. If you confront him with something you don’t think, but you know, he lied to you about, he’ll cry don’t pick on me! Or he’ll just boldly insist he is telling the truth when you know damn well he’s not. He’s really bold. Some people are like that, though. They think that if they’re caught in a lie, don’t make excuses for it, just deny it. Denial is easy, isn’t it?

I’m still OK with never having a child. I have enough other things to live for and I want to stay with my husband forever no matter what, but it’s the lies, the false promises, and the saying one thing and doing another that I’m fed up with. He reminded me today how much I prefer actions to talk, so let’s do our deal and all that. But he won’t put his actions where his mouth is. He’ll say one thing and do another, or he’ll lie about it and insist he did what he said he’d do when he really didn’t.

Later…

Right on schedule. Bill’s gone to get the bitch. Will the cock visit for an hour and a half tonight?

I read Tom my piece of bullshit on how I went to pick up the bitch with Bill and she flipped over it while I laughed. Then they drove to the police station and she ended up getting arrested for being hysterical. I denied riding with them and said they were following me, and out of fear, I came to the PD. He got a kick out of it.

It’s nice not having the toilet hang up and it’s nice being able to just quickly touch the button and have it flush. Before, I had to hold it in for several seconds. I’m gonna enjoy this toilet while it works, cuz I know it’s just a matter of time before it goes on the fritz again.

Later…

Oh, God! The cock’s here. In the driveway again like yesterday. He never parks in the driveway on weekdays. That tells me something that I don’t like and that worries me. I can’t believe I didn’t hear any door slamming. I wouldn’t know it was here if I didn’t look, but that’s the way it should be.

This is day three and still no dump. Damn, that shit they gave me really cleaned me out! Amazingly, though, I woke up at 110 pounds and not the 112-113 I expected to wake up at. What’s gonna happen, though? Is my body gonna wait till it is back up to 112-113 pounds before it shits?

It helps to write about some things that bother me, but this one’s a little tougher. Our fucking lying whore of a president bombed Iraq. And it’s so childish too, cuz he’s doing it for the wrong reasons. He claims it’s because they refused to cooperate with weapons inspections, and they did have some weapons that could’ve harmed people nearby, and they are a fucked up country, but it’s all over his not wanting to be impeached and brought to trial for lying about having oral sex with that 21-year-old. He figures this will stall impeachment. So, innocent children have to die because he had to get his dick sucked by some young thing and he can’t own up to it and deal with it? That’s great. That’s just really great. Why is sex always so destructive?! I wish I could say that in this slut’s case, what goes around will come around and he’ll be assassinated, but I know he won’t. Nope. He’ll live a long, healthy, free life full of all kinds of money, sex, fun and power.

Once again, this cock is hanging around a little too long to be playing daddy. More like banging its bitch and making plans to come back. I didn’t see or hear anything being unloaded, but like I said, if it’s gonna be stupid enough to come back and get its bitch evicted, let it.

Later…

The cock just left. So it was here an hour and 15 minutes tonight instead of an hour and a half, huh? About 15 minutes before it left, I heard two car doors, but because it was dark, I couldn’t tell if it took something out of its car or if it put something in its car. He used to do this all the time he lived here, though - come out and play car door six times a day. It can’t even be here an hour and not play doors!

Anyway, I think it’s testing me and the city and getting a feel for things to see if it’s really safe enough to return. By parking in the driveway, he can see if the city questions it before moving in and really getting everybody into trouble, and also see if I complain about it. Once he feels the coast is clear, in it’ll come. Although, it is parking in the driveway after business hours. We’ll just have to wait and see.

Uh-oh. I just peeked out and saw the bitch’s front light on. She doesn’t usually keep that light on unless she’s either expecting company or currently has company over. Well bitch, your company just left. A little slow at cutting the light? Or are you expecting another round?

Later…

I think I know why I heard two door slams, then one more when it left. The bitch is early to bed, early to rise during the week, but not this early. There are no lights on inside the house. Just the porch, so I think the first two slams were her and Mistake getting in the car. Then for whatever reason, Mr. Cock didn’t come out for 15 minutes later, then they all split. So, Bitch and Mistake should be pulling in with Mr. Fuck sometime before 9 PM, then it’s off to la-la land!

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 16, 1998 Thankfully, it hasn’t rained today like they said it might.

I guess we’re gonna be going out later.

Later…

Tom was offered a job in a different department being a “working boss” versus an office boss, in two different areas. The pro is that he could have his raise of about 45 cents now, rather than in April, but the con is the hours. The hours would make it tough to take me or his mom to appointments. Mary has no problems taking Ma to afternoon appointments, but mornings are tough for her. So, he’s probably gonna turn the offer down. My vibe is that he won’t be making any changes at the bank till right around when we move, and he’ll be at the bank altogether for 2-5 more years.

We went to Staples and got a pack of three scissors and to Walgreens where I got more glitter nail polish, so now I have three. One has magenta and red glitter, one has purple and green, and one has blue and silver. It’ll be a while before I use these, though, cuz I now have airbrushed fake nails on. They’re red with black curvy lines that turn white at the tips. Next time, I’m gonna get the nail art kit where you draw your own designs.

Anyway, these do take some getting used to. It’s amazing I can type at all. Unwaxing and waxing up my braces is tougher, but it’ll only help to keep me from eating more than I should. I’ll only eat now when I’m really hungry. Gotta use my knuckles when using the touchpad on the microwave. They were really long. Totally daggers! So I trimmed them down. I also rounded them off to make them look more natural. They came squared off at the tips and I hate that. They’ve really come a long way with nail glue. In the past, these would all fall off in no time. It takes no time at all to glue the nails on. These aren’t the kinds you file into your own nail. Filing to make them fit well is what takes a long time. I scanned/printed one of my hands to show the nails to Tammy. Tammy would hate something like this. Not long nails, but the designs. She’s never been into loud, colorful, artistic, creative stuff. I also printed a copy for Tom, since I put them on after he crashed and will be going to bed when he gets up.

As I knew would be the case, I didn’t shit today or yesterday. Not after all those runs! Besides, my body’s gonna do everything it can to get back above 110 pounds. Well, it’s doing a fine job so far cuz I woke up at 110½. I was sort of surprised, though. I thought I’d be back to 112 or 113. Tomorrow I will be.

Thought up a wonderful piece of bullshit for the freeloader’s excerpts. One that goes something like this: As I was putting out mail, Bill was wiping his car windows and he called out hello to me. I said hello back and we made pleasant small talk for a few minutes. Then he said he had to go pick up his daughter. I lied and said we were on friendly terms at last, so could I please go with him? She’d like that. He said sure, but believe me, she wasn’t the least bit happy to see me!

Later…

What’s going on, cock? What the fuck were you just doing here for an hour and a half? Making plans to come back? You’ll be sorry if you do! Mark my words, asshole!

Yeah, Bill picked up Bitch, brought it back, and the fucking cock pulled in at 6:00, took something out of its trunk, and didn’t pull out till 7:30. Still no music, fortunately for the bitch and for all of them, but nobody exchanges that many Christmas presents. Could it be a late birthday present for the mistake? Or was it hauling its shit over here? Six months is a good length of time to back off when you’re caught being where you’re not supposed to be, so what’s it gonna do now? Come back, keep the music off, but slam doors again several times a day? I don’t think so! El cocko, you will never again live next to me. Never!

Just when it had been wonderfully quiet around here as far as stereos go, it’s horrendous again. And again, it’s a hell of a coincidence that it starts back up again the very day I lose weight and rebel against God. Well, my weight will naturally go back up, so curb some of these stereos, OK God?

Doors, toilets, and roofs - it never fucking ends! I got so sick of playing toilet that I took the lid off the toilet, and that’s how it’ll stay while we’re still here. That way, when it gets hung up and when jiggling the handle doesn’t work, I can just reach in and fix it. This fucking toilet needs another part, and Tom mentioned replacing the whole fucking thing, but I’d just hex that too. I told him to use his best judgment. He knows more about this shit than I do, and I don’t want to make my life one big toilet debate. This is its third fucking problem. First it flushed too sluggishly, then it leaked, and now this!

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 15, 1998 Before I get into how horrible yesterday’s ordeal was, oh my fucking God! I was right and how terrifying too! As I told Tom, God’s not gonna let him fix this roof. No matter how many hours of work Tom puts himself through, God’s not gonna help him help us. No matter how smart he is or how much he slaves himself to fix this roof, it can’t be stopped. God is just so determined to hold us back in life and to inflict his wrath, fury, hatred, and insensitivity upon us. He just doesn’t care. He doesn’t give a shit at all! No matter how hard we try to get ahead, he just won’t let us.

When the storm began just after I woke up, I was so happy that I could just relax, go about my business as usual, and not have to play Leak and Bucket. Wrong! Dead wrong. The back room is leaking in its usual spot, along with a new spot near it, and there’s water dripping down the crack in the bathroom doorway.

Typical Arizona, too. A warm dry weekend, then it cools down and rains at the start of the week. These are the kinds of storms that go on for hours. It’s not gonna stop till at least 10:00-11:00 and we can never be sure where else it’ll leak. Just because it hasn’t leaked in a certain area, doesn’t mean it won’t later. In fact, I just looked up and noticed a water stain coming through a crack in the plaster above me. I moved into the living room to be where it’s safer, but no place is safe in this house. This house is making me more and more nervous. It’s like it’s possessed. Will God, the devil, or whatever is hexing this house, follow us when we move?

Would God have it leak today anyway, or does it have something to do with yesterday? But yesterday all I did was get some tests. I didn’t do anything to try to change myself. I didn’t go against the way he made me, so what’s the big deal? Is finding out information a sin too? Is that considered rebelling against God? If this has anything to do with me getting tests, then God help us if I did try to change myself. Will things get progressively worse for us if I kept going? Could this have to do with the fact that I’m down to 109 pounds (the craters have gone down a lot too)? Why? Why does God keep doing these kinds of things to us?

I decided to do my puzzles on the vanity table in the music room rather than on the red table I was gonna put back in the living room. I had taken my dolls off of this table (they were covered with plastic bags) and set them up around the house. Since I can’t put them back on the vanity cuz it’s littered with puzzle pieces, I put Summer Dream, Anne, Edie, Rapunzel and Patrice on my bedroom dresser. Then I put a garbage bag over them. Jessica, I don’t care about, so I just left her on the music room floor. I put Bailey in a bag of her own and set her down in the corner of the bedroom.

All I know is that I just want OUT of this fucking house! I don’t know if this shit is compensation for wonderful things to come, or if it’s a curse. It feels more like a curse to me, cuz things would be just wonderful enough if we didn’t have to keep on going through all this shit and keep getting set back with absolutely no help from God whatsoever.

No freeloader shit Sunday. All I saw Sunday evening was that white car with the rack on it and some skinny black lady putting Christmas presents in the trunk. I couldn’t tell for sure if this was Miss Bitch. The hair and face didn’t look right for the bitch, but whoever it was was totally anorexic and it was so obvious that it was a drug-induced skinniness too. So, this car left and then it came back and it appeared that someone was taking presents out of the trunk, but I couldn’t tell for sure. I just hope they stick to tradition and don’t do Christmas here. How can this bitch afford to buy all these gifts anyway? With drug sale money? Anyway, this car left again for the last time, then the cock came and went, and that’s it.

Yesterday was weird, cuz Bill left before the cock came. Why would he leave the kid alone like that?

In a little while, I’ll get into yesterday. It’s only 9:23 now and I hear the rain picking up again, so I’m too nervous to concentrate on writing.

Later…

Thank God! It’s over. It’s brightening up out there and the barometer’s coming up. But what are we gonna do the next time it rains? And the next? And the next? And the next? How much worse will this get with each rainfall, too?

I guess it’ll be a while before Tom comes home, so I’ll get into yesterday’s torture.

Actually, I should start with Sunday night. The people at Genesis are really incompetent and I hope I never have to go back there again. Not only did they tell Vicki I could eat normally up till midnight, which was a lie cuz I had to have just liquids the day before, but they also said in their prep kit instructions that I’ll have “several bowel movements a few hours after drinking the drink.” Wrong! More like “several bouts of diarrhea 5½ hours after drinking the drink, and then again later. Both bouts of diarrhea will be after you’ve gone to bed and will wake you up, too.” I took the drink at 6 PM and was slightly nauseous, but was asleep by 9:30. At 11:30, the pains woke me and I nearly puked and had the runs for about 15 minutes. I fell back asleep till the runs woke me again at 2:30. I was up with that for about a half-hour, then I went back to bed till Tom got me up at 6:45. Then I had to go without my coffee, suffering from my growling, hungry belly, shove a suppository up my ass, and deal with my last bout of the runs 15 minutes later.

First we had to wait forever for the receptionist when we got there, then we had to go upstairs and wait forever too, to the sound of four obnoxious black kids. Those fucking blacks, man, I swear! I don’t know what I hate more, blacks or Hispanics.

This lady, who went back and forth between being sweet and nice to a bitch, eventually took me in and to a dressing room where I had to strip and put my shoes and clothes in a basket, along with my purse. I put a Johnny on with it open in the back and one with it open in the front.

They wouldn’t allow Tom in for either exam due to the radiation.

So I was put on a hard metal table where the girl took some pictures of my kidneys, then left the room. When she came back, she told me that the technician didn’t see how this test was relevant to fertility testing, so they were gonna have me do an ultrasound instead and then I didn’t have to worry about having an IV too. I didn’t realize an IV would be included in this test, but as Tom pointed out, we should’ve known by the name of the test - IVP kidney.

Then I started getting really frustrated. First it was the waiting time, and now the finding out things at the last minute and being told one thing only to find out another, and now I had just gone and got myself sick all night long for nothing! But then she reassured me I didn’t waste my time, cuz the prep kit helps with the HSG.

So, out I go to sit and wait some more. This time, though, I waited in the hall where the exam rooms were, and they let Tom come join me.

The lady called me again saying they couldn’t get a hold of my doctor, and to come with her. I stalled for a minute cuz I was confused. Then she firmly told me, “Come here. I don’t want to discuss this here. Let’s discuss it in the room.”

Back in the room, she told me they were gonna go ahead with the IVP since they couldn’t reach the doctor. All this waiting and getting jerked around was getting to me! Was God trying to tell me something? Was it for losing weight? Anyway, she misfired when trying to get the fucking IV in, so she called in this butch to do it. Even now as a non-smoker, my veins are still small. She couldn’t find a vein in my left arm, so after what took forever, she got an IV in the right arm. Then the lady injected a dye in my veins that was supposed to make the kidneys show up, I guess, and then the IV slipped out. At that point, I was like - forget it. It’s just not meant to be. But she said she had time to take pictures if she hurried. She took pictures and I asked how they were. She said she could see what she needed to see, but then she got all irritated that I would ask her what the scoop was with the kidneys since that’s for the doctor to tell me.

All the while I was with her, there was this screaming baby in a nearby room. Totally obnoxious too, and this thing held things up, I guess, cuz once again, Tom and I had to wait forever between kidney and female exams.

The only funny thing about it was when Tom said that at least they can’t miss when it comes to the female part of it like they did with the IV. No, but it sure didn’t tickle!

I went in with some other lady. It was a big, ugly room with that same hard metal table. Not even a little tiny bit of cushioning for comfort. She told me if I thought it would be bad, it’d be horrible. Well, she was kind of close, cuz it was definitely a little more than just uncomfortable. It was crossing the border into being painful, with quite the cramps! The first part of the exam was like a regular exam, then it turned into a really bad period. The doctor came in and he was friendly, but a little rough for being the male that he was. He kind of poked, pushed, and rubbed a little hard when soaping up my crotch. Then he inserted a speculum and cleaned off the cervix area, which caused some cramping. He put some cream on the cervix that’s supposed to numb that, but I don’t think it did any good, cuz I felt that tube go in that he inserted in my cervix! This numbing stuff also did nothing for the uterus and its cramping. I also thought I was gonna puke at one point too. I couldn’t see much on the monitor. The doctor agreed, unlike that first woman, to tell me his findings.

I didn’t know I’d have to do this, but I had to roll over onto my side for side shots, with my legs spread, my crotch pried open, and the cramps and nausea killing me. Then he took the tube and speculum out of me and they took one last picture of me from behind as I lay on my stomach, then I got dressed and left.

As I was having this done, I realized I could never handle in-vitro. I’d think they’d have to dilate the cervix even more and that that procedure would last longer. Also, they don’t put fluid into the uterus, they poke it with the tools they use to insert the fertilized egg.

Also, when this woman reminded me that this is nothing compared to labor, it reinforced the fact that I could never ever have a kid. If I couldn’t handle a tiny tube in my cervix, I could never handle a baby passing through it, even if the cervix does automatically dilate much more on its own.

I can totally, totally see, like never before, why God sterilized me. I couldn’t handle a child if my life depended on it. It’s like - no wonder he sterilized me! I kind of figured as much all along (along with other reasons), but this really drove it into me.

Anyway, once again, yesterday proved women’s intuition is real. Or at least my vibes are. I always knew deep down in my gut that my fallopian tubes were fine and that it was more likely to be within the uterus and more than likely caused by the DES. It looks like I’m right so far, cuz my kidneys are fine, my tubes weren’t clogged, but I do have a horned uterus. Something that you commonly see in DES people. What was weird, though, was that the doctor told me it’s also found in non-DES people too. I asked him if this automatically meant I couldn’t carry a kid and he said no, but he doesn’t know as much as Dr. Wells does and only she can tell me how severe this is. Even if it was totally irrelevant to conception, there’s always the chance that I don’t ovulate, my eggs are damaged, I have this bacteria in my fluids that kills sperm, or that my hormones are screwy, or that his sperm is fucked, but you know I highly doubt that one. My first guess is that the problem lies within the uterus. My second guess would be my eggs, and my last guess would be hormones. If I don’t hear from the doctor about the tests by Friday, I’ll call her.

In the end, though, no matter what is or isn’t wrong with me, and no matter what I feel about it, I know I’ll never have a kid. Not with a husband that cums so rarely and certainly not with God making sure this never happens. Some would ask if I felt that the reason I never conceived is due to how little Tom cums, but no. I never would have or will conceive no matter if he cums a little or a lot.

Although Tom couldn’t find much online about horned uteruses (he hasn’t done a very extensive search yet either, he says) he read up on hormone problems, a fertility clinic in Phoenix that covers diagnostics, but not treatments, and how misshapen uteruses can be surgically corrected. The idea of having surgery is less scary to me than having anything done while I’m awake. That’s for sure! That was really sweet of him to do this research, though.

Another thing he said he read was that they suggest taking Ibuprofen a couple of hours before the HSG test to ward off the cramps. That just goes to show how incompetent these fucks at Genesis are. There were others that were upset with them too, Tom said. He overheard people upset over their technicians questioning the tests that were ordered and how they wanted to bitch to the supervisor about it. I agree with Tom when he said that these fucking technicians shouldn’t question doctor’s orders like they did with me. They should just do what they’re told to do, but I guess some people like to challenge and argue with others.

I called and told Tammy about yesterday, and I sent an email to Evie and Marla. Marla will relay the news to Linda, I guess. I typed it up in Kim’s next letter. I’m adding on bit by bit and when I think there’s enough there, I’ll print it out for her.

I really hit the food after my grueling ordeal. Got a burger and a slice of cheesecake, had a TV dinner, and even some popcorn. Had some fries and another slice of cheesecake today too, and poor Tom, who didn’t want to eat out again today too (the roof fucked our plans up as usual), got something. I felt really bad and felt like a half-assed wife for not cooking more often, but he said he’s the one who does the grocery shopping. It’s his fault he didn’t get anything, but it’s just that he’s been so preoccupied with the roof. Yeah, our whole lives are that roof! That fucking mother-fucking roof!! Godfuckingdamn this roof to hell!!

He was going to go to the grocery store after work, then come home and take me to a few stores for those nails I wrote about, and for scissors, the rebate, and the ramps to the cage.

Thanks to this fucking roof that always delays things and sets us back just when it looks like we’re gonna finally get ahead and be able to move on to other things (although I told him I vibed that this roof is unfixable for him), he came straight home and went up in the attic. He feels that these leaks came through from where the cooler and AC connect to the house. He feels that the stuff he put around these openings to seal it from rain, didn’t have time to dry, so we went and got this stuff today that says you can apply it even if it’s raining.

It won’t work. Nothing will stop this leaking. I don’t know if this house is possessed by some evil spirit, if it’s God, the devil, or what, but it ain’t going away. We’re cursed with it in this house, and God only knows if the problem will follow us when we move. Or take on some other form. Meaning, maybe when we have the nicer, newer house, he’ll give us health problems for it.

I just hope that the roof shit doesn’t get worse due to the testing. Or cuz of the weight loss. I also wonder if the return of Caddy Kid means anything. I know he comes and goes, but the fact that he came at this time, makes me wonder. Maybe I’m just paranoid. I hope so. Better to be paranoid and worry for nothing, than to worry for a reason.

We had yet another new problem with this old fucked up house, but Tom took care of it in a few minutes. As you know, we only have a few doors here that open and close normally, so we didn’t need to find the bathroom door sticking all of a sudden since we had enough going on. Guess our kick-ass heater expanded the wood, but he sanded it down really well.

Anyway, you know me. I’ll go from 109 pounds to 115 pounds or higher if I eat any more than 800-1200 calories a day, so it’s back to my usual diet plan.

I guess we’ll be going out tomorrow to Walgreens and Staples to get the stuff we want, although I don’t think we’ll be getting the ramps. The stores I called didn’t have them, and Tom had trouble connecting to their site on AOL, so who knows when we’ll get that? I’m talking about ramps, in case I didn’t mention it, to make it easier for the rats to use the top two floors of their cage. They won’t go up there at this point cuz of the straight tube.

I had Mickey out today. I held him a bit and let him run around on the bed.

Today I hemmed a pair of pants, did some laundry, the dishes, changed the bed, and did other odds and ends around the house.

My shows are on tonight. The Medical Detectives and The FBI Case Files.

Later…

As long as Tom continues to be the supportive person he’s been, and as long as he’s OK with going “all the way,” so to speak, I’d like to take care of unfinished business and keep going with this fertility stuff unless something out of my control comes up to stop me. He said we have an agreement, he’ll still cum regularly, and he’ll be honest about it, but I know better. Still, I need to keep on going till the end, whatever and wherever the end may be. I’m kind of going to go into this as if I want a kid and not just information. That way, if I change my mind in five years (as long as he’s willing to cum and have the kid) I can have one if I can be fixed and if God will let me and turn me into quite the toughie that I’m not, but like I said, none of this is gonna happen. I don’t see it, but fortunately, I’m still OK with it. I look forward to life and freedom unless something ever did happen to change that and if it did, I’d just try to deal with it as best I could. Meanwhile, even though I awoke glad I went through the HSG as tough as it was, I’m not finished yet and if not myself alone, then destiny too, is pushing me onward still till I’m done. Tom understands this feeling of unfinished business. Especially without hearing what the doctor has to say about all this.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 13, 1998 Fortunately, I don’t have a bad vibe about the freeloaders. Tom said it was unlikely that something big was gonna go down seeing that it’s close to noon already and they haven’t started setting anything up. We’ll see, but I still wouldn’t be surprised if there was some company and some ball playing. All we’ve seen so far is the white car. It probably dropped the bitch off from the church.

Yesterday, Tom saw the cock loading up its car. For what? They obviously haven’t gone anywhere and besides, it’s too soon for that. If they were gonna take off for Christmas, it’s too soon.

At 8:40 last night, the cock’s car pulled in and I heard something being unloaded from the car. Then I heard nothing till it left twenty minutes later.

Tom also said that no dog across the street barked at all yesterday, and he was up on that roof for several hours. He said there was a dog that was barking a lot the next block over.

Yes, it’s truly hard to believe this, but the roof is done! He’s now doing the final steps - putting the turbans on, putting trim around the sides to keep the wind from lifting the roofing up, and things like that. I won’t even bother to ask that he trim the tree out front and the hedges after he’s done, cuz I know he won’t. And if he did, he’d do it months after I asked. Soon we’ll begin the cleanup part of the job. That should take some time to do too, but it’ll be nothing like the roof. Now, all he has to do is put a roof over the patio, which will also be a joke compared to over the house/garage. That’s flat and doesn’t need all those shingles.

I’m now able to get away with only waxing the knobs on the lower braces just like with up top. I don’t need to bother with the hassles of waxing up the braces on the front teeth cuz now my mouth is used to them.

Evie sent a Christmas card with a picture of the kids. Her and her pictures of the kids!

Online, after I was bitching to her about always having to fix something around here, she said that she too, went through that for years and that she even had to go without any cooling system of any kind! No swamp cooler, no AC, no nothing! My God! So, I told her that from now on whenever I went to bitch about this house, I’d think of her.

She also bragged about her new family van and I was like, you fucker! You get free will as a woman, the house you want, the vehicle you want, you’ve never had a sex problem that I’ve known of, and you can keep a schedule. Well, I’m not too worried. I may never have free will as a woman, but we’ll have that dream house and that newer, nicer, bigger vehicle eventually.

Today’s gonna be a tough day cuz all I can have is liquids. Thanks to that stupid, incompetent Vicki who told me I could eat as I usually do up till midnight before the appointment, it came as a sort of surprise to me when I read that I really couldn’t have anything more than gelatin, plain bread, and dry crackers. Mostly clear soup and water, though. Fortunately, the instructions say tea and coffee are OK. On the other hand, it shouldn’t be too tough cuz I really can’t eat much anyway with the bottom braces. I can only have liquids or soft stuff, like mashed potatoes.

My vibe rang true today. I woke up at 110 pounds! Again, losing just half a pound in your sleep should tell you something. In my case, my body’s doing everything it can to hang onto its weight. I haven’t shit for two days since I dropped under 112, but that’s gonna be taken care of in about six hours when I drink this milkshake kind of mix I have to drink. I just hope I don’t get sick! Then at bedtime, I have three little pills to take. Then I have to get up two hours before the appointment tomorrow to shove that suppository up my ass. Gross, huh?

Later…

I thought of something Linda said. When she was acknowledging that I’ve got to be the one to decide if a kid’s worth it enough to me to be willing to go so far with the testing and all that, she questioned if I felt like I was “missing” something. It’s been said that sterile women often say they feel like something’s missing from their lives when they can’t have kids. Me? I never felt that something was “missing” in that sense. Maybe that’s because I have so many other things.

We went to Walgreens yesterday and I picked up some more of that Gillette lotion I like. This one smells a little different, though. I got a few puzzles, some nail polish, some chicken broth, some Jell-O, and he got some donuts.

The nail polish is really cool. It’s got slivers of glitter in a clear polish. Between the two bottles I got, there’s purple, magenta, green and red. I want to go back and get one with silver some time, as well as these fake nails with these really cool designs on them. The lady at the check-out counter had one is of a blue sky with clouds. I thought they were decals, but she said they’re not and that they don’t fall off easily. My own nails can grow, but they look like shit with their ridges, so I want to get these. The glitter nail polish helps to hide my ridges. Nails look pretty shabby when solid colors start to chip off, but with this, you can’t tell when it’s chipping cuz there are clear spaces in between glitter slivers.

We went to Staples too, to look for a much-deserved game for Tom after all his hard work. He got a flight simulator game. It’s not a game that has any contest to it, but just one where you fly around the world. It’s not very realistic with its graphics, but after we play around with it some more, maybe we’ll get to like it.

Got a new dry-erase board at this store too, and it’s cute. In the corner of it, it’s got a little girl and boy sitting on a bench kissing and the girl has a pretty floral dress. I hated the one Dureen sent. It was of tiles. The kind you’d find in a bathroom. I hated getting the pen stuck in between tiles.

What else did we get there? I think that’s it. Tom’s gonna go back for a form he forgot to get so he can get a rebate on this game. Also, we need new scissors. The scissors around here are getting dull, so I’ll have him pick up a packet of three when he goes back.

Finally took a dump. Usually, I do that when I first get up. The prep kit says I should take several shits after I drink this shit I’ve got to drink tonight. Fun. Real fun.

Still no bad freeloader vibes.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 12, 1998 Fittingly, the mistake’s birthday is on the 13th. Last year that was a Saturday, this year it’s a Sunday. Tomorrow. That may explain why I didn’t wake up with a bad vibe constantly nagging at me. It’s probably not today we have to worry about. It’s tomorrow we have to worry about. However, with two city complaints lodged against them, maybe they’ll only do four hours’ worth of ball games and not the stereos. We’ll see. If there’s any major shit from them, they’re gonna have to pay for it, that’s for sure. I just don’t know how they’ll pay, but they will. Maybe it won’t be so bad, though, cuz not only are my vibes not that bad, but I have three things on my side for this final Mistake birthday. The complaints, there being no dog over there, and his not living there. I’m sure he’ll be over doing his laundry and banging his bitch, though.

I haven’t shit yet today and am not the least bit surprised over that, even though I had bean soup yesterday that’s high in fiber. The reason I’m not surprised is that I woke up at 110½ pounds. The fact that I had less than 1000 calories yesterday and woke up only a pound lighter, tells me that it really is true that I’ll never get down to 100 pounds again without total or very near starvation. And it really is true that if I were 100 pounds at the snap of my fingers, I’d just go right back up between 110-115 in a matter of days.

Tom, who bullshitted me yesterday about wanting more sex, has gone off to drive his race car on his computer. Why oh why is he such a liar and a joker when it comes to sex/kid? Can’t he give it up? It’s old, Tom! I understand, though, that he wants to keep his energy to get through these last few hours of work that need to be done, even if I don’t think it should affect a guy that was even older than he is. He and I both are tired of setbacks. But as I know damn well, as soon as he’s finished with this, it’ll be on to something else that’ll be very time-consuming.

Before we went out yesterday, I ended up taking up Andy’s and Marla’s offer to call Linda. She was very nice and she spoke well to me and very openly, too. She was quite talkative too, and I even had a hard time getting a word in edgewise at times.

The main reason I called was to ask about the HSG exam. She said everyone’s different, but having a high tolerance to pain, it didn’t hurt her. She said it was cool how you could see the dye running up the fallopian tubes.

She told me all about the things she’s done and went through as far as getting pregnant goes. She started the testing route when she was 30 and didn’t have kids until her 40s. That’s because the technology wasn’t where it is today when she was 30. Today, they guarantee virtually everyone they can have kids. Different states vary in what they offer and what’s covered by insurance. In California, you pay a flat rate fee of about $20,000 for a certain number of tries. If you don’t get pregnant and have a kid, they give you your money back. In other words, this is for the rich.

She was one of those cases where there started off being an explanation as to why she couldn’t conceive, then she was one of those unexplained infertility cases for a while. She said it’s not that she couldn’t conceive, it’s that she’d always miscarry. They found one clogged tube, but technically you only need one tube as long as the sex is normal with the guy you’re with and as long as he’s willing to cum regularly. A little more than regularly in a case like that. But then no one knows to this day why she couldn��t carry the non-invitro pregnancies. She said she could get pregnant on Friday and lose it by Monday, although I don’t see how you could know you were pregnant if you lost it just three days later, so maybe that was an exaggeration. Maybe after they did the in vitro, they gave her some sort of hormone medication. I forgot to ask. Anyway, maybe it was God’s will to do whatever he felt he had to do to keep her from having kids until she was in her 40s. Maybe there’s a reason too, why he felt she could only have them by way of in vitro. Who knows why he does the things he does? As she said, the assholes live long, healthy lives, while the good ones die young. This is why I always worry about Tom. It’s like he’s too good for life, in God’s eyes. Also, the ones that are too young or too fucked up or both, never seem to have a problem getting pregnant.

She said that the most common causes of infertility are clogged tubes or something within the uterus lining. So I’ve heard. I’ve heard just about everything she told me, except I didn’t know that in vitro causes multiples. I thought only the drug they give you to make you ovulate more eggs did that. She said she had three of them but lost one after she began hemorrhaging.

Anyway, she said they check women for hormone levels, to make sure they’re ovulating, and things like that. I don’t know how the hell they can check to see if a woman’s ovulating, though. I wish my case was and wasn’t a case of a clogged tube or wacky hormone levels. A part of me feels it’d be nice to have the problem be simple so I could have more options open to me, but a part of me also hopes they tell me my uterus is hopeless, cuz that’d make the decisions easier if there was nothing to have to decide, even though God gets the final say in all of this.

You can get pregnant, then lose it, if your hormone levels go wacky during pregnancy.

As for testing Tom, she said they’ll test him last as a last resort if they don’t find anything wrong with me. Great. Then I won’t have to worry that he’ll decide not to do his part. I know the problem’s me, and she too, knew since she was 18 that she’d have problems getting pregnant. And she didn’t have the DES, the years of drugs, and all these things against her. There was nothing to say she couldn’t get pregnant. Only her gut instinct. I don’t know if I was 18 when I knew a child wasn’t meant to be for me, but it does seem that for most of my life, I knew I’d never have one, fertile or not.

She said she’s not ashamed of how she got her kids and that if I find I am right about there being something wrong - it’s not my fault. I know that, but it still makes me feel picked on by God. It’s like, wasn’t his having me born to the kinds of people I was born to more than enough of a cruel punishment to dump on me?

She said she’s no doctor, but my erratic light periods could be a sign of early menopause. Or maybe I do, as Tom suggested, have a hormone problem. But that doesn’t explain my infertility in the past when my periods were normal. Oh, the questions that eat at me! I just hope I get some answers. Right now, the question isn’t am I going to have a kid? I know that’s not meant to be no matter what. The questions are what is wrong with me and what am I going to do about it?

I asked Tom if he’d have a kid if he wasn’t 100% sure he wanted one, and he said he wouldn’t if he had any doubts.

I asked Linda if she believed God made me as I am for a reason and that I shouldn’t fight it, or anything else she thought, but she said the same thing Tom said. God wouldn’t have given us the brains to figure out how to get almost anyone pregnant if he didn’t want us doing that, but again, you don’t need to be sterile in order for God to make sure you don’t get pregnant. If you do everything that technology has to offer in order to get fixed, have a normal sex life, then still don’t conceive, then yeah, it really, really wasn’t meant to be and it’s just God’s will for whatever reason be it fair or unfair, right or wrong.

I admitted without hesitation that if it were between 1994-1997, I’d have jumped at the opportunity of getting fixed and getting pregnant, but I just don’t know if I want that anymore. I don’t feel that deep-down desire I used to feel. I didn’t get into why I feel I’m incompetent to have kids or our freak sex life, but I don’t know if I’d even enjoy motherhood with all its burdens, responsibilities, and restrictions, and the desire’s just not there anymore like it used to be. Only the questions remain. I automatically say how I don’t want to give up my life and freedom, but when I think about it, it wouldn’t kill me to shuffle things around and do the things I do much less often or at scheduled times. It wouldn’t kill me if I couldn’t sing at 2 AM, but it’s the not having any time to myself or with my husband that I would worry about. And the sleep schedule, my temper, and my lack of patience and experience.

She wondered if maybe I’d given up a little and I told her I did that a long time ago. Knowing a kid isn’t meant to be whether I wanted one or not, I could never in a million years go as far as she went and go through years of testing/trying, even though you don’t have to anymore.

I just don’t know what to do, though! Do I want to get fixed if I’m told I can be fixed? Should I bother to be “normal” when I know what’s fated to be? Is there any way I could be wrong about God and Tom controlling and limiting me and my being fated not to have a kid? Is there any way I could be wrong about not enjoying or being able to handle motherhood? I don’t see how I could be wrong. God’s gotta have made me sterile for a reason. Just like Tom has his reasons for being the way he is in bed, which is fear. He may not consciously know it, but he doesn’t want the time a child would take up or its responsibilities, and he doesn’t really think I’d be a good mom like he says.

Let’s just start with finding out whatever I can before I decide what to do about it. Until I have all my options at hand, I can’t say for sure what I’m gonna do.

She told me a couple of other things I didn’t know, but that didn’t shock me, cuz it’s so common. She started off by acknowledging how shitty my folks were and that no one did anything about it. That was the way back then, I told her. Society looked the other way.

Anyway, Milton, Norma’s husband, was a whoring gambler. They’re somehow related to me, I guess. Some kind of cousins.

There was some couple at the beach too, that was once friends with my folks, her folks, and others that were in the same clique, who turned out to be child molesters. Not the wife, but the husband. They had 4 boys and a girl, Linda said, and the husband molested the girl, I guess, and God knows who else.

Let me take a break now to go call Paula, who left a message yesterday at a new number. A new address too, no doubt.

Later…

No answer at Paula’s. I left a message.

I got my daily call from Andy yesterday after I left a message telling him I talked to Linda (I’m still nervous about Monday, though). He said he was proud of me for calling her. Whatever. He also said he kept his mouth shut at a temp agency that gave him a few days’ worth of work. Yeah, yeah. He’ll subconsciously set himself up to be fired before the New Year.

Later…

I’m not looking forward to this prep kit any more than I’m looking forward to these appointments (especially the female-related one). I had to drink a solution that tastes like shit and take some pills. Even worse, I have to shove a suppository up my ass.

Yesterday I got fed up with having to play toilet day in and day out, among all the other problems this old house has, so I tried to fix it. That only helped a little, so while we were out yesterday getting more shingles, we got a new toilet valve and flusher. This is a push-button one. So far so good, but for some reason I’m as hexed with toilets as I am with sex, so we’ll see how it holds up. As long as we can get by, we can just let the next people deal with it. It doesn’t affect the house’s value. The next owners should replace the whole damn toilet if they have any smarts.

Tom and I were just talking about moving and he said we might want to go with just one acre not as far out of town, rather than twenty acres further out of town, and put our money into soundproofing. This way, it won’t matter that the city’s still close by and we could afford the property taxes. If we moved further out and got many acres, and if the city really did catch up to us, that’d up the value of the property and cause us to maybe not be able to afford the property taxes. The closer you are to the city, the costlier the land is. Well, if I could have something just as good that only took twenty minutes to get to stores/doctors/etc., rather than forty, I’d take the twenty.

We went and got that cage. It is huge! And so nice too. With its bass on the ground, it’s an inch shorter than me and about 3’ wide. If it were on wheels, it’d be taller than me. As our luck would have it, we were missing parts so we couldn’t get it up on wheels. Tom will pick up those parts, as well as some ramps that you can get for this cage to make easier access going up and down the 4 different levels. Its bass is a light-colored plastic. Almost like a big litter box. The walls and top are black wires. They’re thick and solid and the whole cage is pretty heavy. At first, I was worried that Mickey, my new rat, would get through the bars, but he couldn’t. It has 3 light-colored plastic shelves that you snap on each level to make floors. One of each of the 3 shelves, has a hole in it for connecting a big tube. Just like how the mice’s cages have floor tubes.

Hey Joebitch, enjoying that banging? Yeah, he’s up on the roof now with hopes of being done at 2:30.

Anyway, there are three tubes. A T-shaped pink one, a straight yellow one, and a curved purple one. Ratsy can get to the 2nd floor just fine, and he can get through the curved tube that leads to the top floor, but will he ever be able to get through the straight tube up to the 3rd floor? He’s physically capable of it, but I don’t know if he’ll ever want to bother. This is why I’m going to get ramps. I also want a couple more rats too, at some point. This cage would be perfect for four rats if you’re not gonna house a ferret in it. I think that if Ma gives us just $50 and not $100 each for Christmas, I’ll get a couple more rats since I won’t be able to get that angel doll. Oh, I hope I will though! But if I can’t, I can’t.

So far, Mickey’s pretty brave and friendly, but not very active. He’s in the old wooden burrow a lot that I put on the bottom along with the black wheel that Ratsy uses. The 2nd floor has Ratsy’s favorite straw-like burrow that’s round with four openings. The 3rd floor has a curved green piece of wood, and the new dark green wheel I just got. The 4th floor has a purple burrow just like Ratsy’s favorite one, only it’s smaller and it’s of thick plastic, and the deep purple hammock that came with the cage. As with the Play City cages, there are other accessories you can add on. You can even add on walls and floors, but this is plenty big enough! Mickey has more brown than Ratsy does. It extends a little further down his neck and more than halfway down the top of his back. He also has dark spots on his tail. Ratsy just has a dark head, with just a little darkness on the sides of his neck, one small dark dot on his upper back, and that’s it. He’s mostly white.

It was pretty funny when at the checkout counter I saw what looked to be jumping fish in no water in a bag that a woman behind us had. Tom, who was closer to her, told me they were crickets that were probably used to feed a lizard. Oh. To me, it looked like little fish in a bag with no water.

Later…

Tom just went to pick up some more shingles. Only a small spot in the center of the roof is still unshingled, so I uncovered my dolls and set them back up. I missed them.

Although it’s now freeloader prime time, no activity and no bad vibe yet. The white car should be in any time now to pick up the bitch. We’ll see what I wake up with tomorrow for vibes, though.

I forgot to mention that Ratsy and Mickey get along very well. Ratsy still doesn’t like Tom, though, and he bit him twice.

Linda said that the only real discomfort she found in all the fertility testing/procedures was when they measured the distance from her opening to the back wall of the uterus for when they went to inject the fertilized egg. She said that when they hit the back wall, that caused cramping. Yeah, I’ll bet.

She said C-sections are a killer compared to having it vaginally, cuz it’s major surgery where they go through the muscle and have to push around organs to get at the baby. She said when gas and shit go through the intestines and all that for the first time afterward, it’s tough, and you can barely move for about a week. She said as long as you don’t tear vaginally since what hurts down there afterward is the pee going where the stitches are, you’re fine. How can a vagina be fine after having something 4-5 inches wide go through it? I’d think it’d have to tear. I mean, that’s quite a stretch!

She also said that once the labor pains peak, all you feel is like you have to push and take a dump. Once again, how can all you feel be labor pains? What about the pain of the baby passing through the birth canal? Was her crotch numbed?

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 11, 1998 What a pleasant surprise. Woke up at 111½.

I wish I could snap my fingers and have it be noon-1:00. We’re getting that cage today and a new rat too!

Yesterday was the third morning in a row Andy called, but yesterday, he left a message. He was finally going through the job section in the paper when he came across an ad I may be interested in, he said. A music teacher was wanted that must be able to sing on pitch willing to train to do other things and teach kids between 1-7.

I told him thanks, but no thanks. I like music only as a hobby nowadays and I like to do and not teach. I still couldn’t keep a schedule like that and it’d be hard for me to get to the place.

I’m proud of myself, but mostly shocked, for being able to have a little more control over my schedule, for getting to these weekly appointments, and for being able to sleep while he’s working overhead, but I’m still far from normal as far as schedules, sleeping with him, and other things go. Even so, I’ve learned more and have changed more in the time I’ve known him, than in all of the time before that. At least, it sure seems that way!

I still wish I could have more doors open to me. I wish I could keep a schedule so that if I ever did want to do a job like this or some other job, at least the door wouldn’t be slammed in my face as it is now cuz of having no control over my schedule. That’s what this fertility thing is all about. Having doors open and taking back my free will as a woman. Yes, I’m curious as to why I’m sterile, but it’d be nice to be fertile just so that I could know I had a choice in the matter. Up to now, I’ve never had any say in the matter. It’s all been up to God only. I’d like to have as many doors open so that even though the chances are one in billions of my wanting a kid again in the future, God supporting that, Tom cumming enough, and me being able to keep a schedule regularly, I could at least open some doors that have been locked on me all my life.

As easy as it is to say what I just said, though, it’s just as easy to say I hope they tell me my uterus is very badly deformed. That’d make things easier, even if it made me angrier at God that he could do such a mean thing to me or to any woman.

I decided to take some of the old printed journals that I had bound in wires to send to Bob as a little something for Christmas in a manila envelope. There’s something like journals 2-14 in there. These were the ones that used thinner paper that fit better in the envelopes I’ve got. Hope he reads them since he’s got so much time on his hands, but if he doesn’t, he doesn’t. I’m pretty sure he will, though.

Tom worked on the roof yesterday and says he’s now down to having just 3-4 more hours left to complete the roof and make it 100% safe from rain. That’s hard to believe after all this time! He said this job would take 5 days. Instead, it’s been since 11/13.

I get a little annoyed with Andy’s calling me about that job the more I think of it. If his brain wasn’t too potted out to remember things, and if he even listened and gave a shit, he’d know that I only like to sing as a hobby nowadays. I think the main reason he left the message was just to be calling and leaving a message for the attention of it. I swear he can be just as selfish as he was back east. It’s just mainly in a different way.

I don’t have a good vibe about the freeloaders this weekend, nor do I have a bad vibe. When I wake up on Saturday morning, I should be able to get a damn good sense of the weekend freeloader forecast at that time. It’s usually the mornings that provide the strongest sense of what they’ll be like in the afternoons/evenings.

What will I do for the next 6 hours? I sang and I’ve updated things here, so maybe I’ll do some reading.

Later…

Just had some soup and listened to music. Another hour or so and Andy will call. The morning is passing so slowly! Still have 4-5 hours before we go out. I wish I didn’t get up till around now, but then that’d make it harder for me to hold back enough on my schedule to get to the appointments on Monday. I’d have to take Benadryl to fall asleep earlier to keep me from sleeping too late.

Yuck! My stomach’s all gassy now from the bean soup.

Later…

Shiny, who we now call the cat with his shiny black fur, just meowed to be let out. The good of his non-stop meowing is that I can go into another room and he’ll call to let me know when he wants out. Meanwhile, I let him out and he’s out there meowing to himself. So weird!

I forgot to say that for about a week now, the dog across the street has sort of become the problem I knew it would be. However, I’m not entirely sure it’s directly across the street where the renters are, but it is somewhere across the street. Fortunately, it doesn’t bark that much (no dog could bark as much as those collies) and it’s quiet at night, so I still have my nighttime peace.

Later…

Just 2-3 more hours to go!!

What? No call this morning from Andy?

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10, 1998 Yesterday was a hectic, frustrating, confusing, yet fun day. First, I called Tammy this morning to tell her that I finally got through the worst of the lower braces. A few days after you get them on, your mouth is pretty inflamed like mine was yesterday, but now I’m home free and my mouth is callused and toughened up to them just about. My bite is still off, though, even when it’s not sore, so I have to eat nothing but soft foods. I eat mostly soup and even woke up a pound lighter today at 112. I’ll be stuck tomorrow. My shit system always turns itself off when I hit 112 so my body can hang onto whatever I eat and not shit it out till it gets back up to the 115 it’s comfortable at. Once I gain those few pounds back in a day or two, I’ll shit.

I also told Tammy about our pet store adventures yesterday, which I’ll get into in a minute.

First, poor Becky has to have surgery this morning on her knees and ankles for her rheumatoid arthritis. That’s really sad. I told Tammy to call once they got settled in to let me know how things went. Meanwhile, I’m sending the kid a get-well card.

God’s really cursed this family well. One generation after another. What kinds of problems would my kid have had if I had had one? Plenty, I’m sure.

If I had any sense whatsoever, I’d forget all about this fertility testing. Why put myself through all this shit just to get answers I may not get? I know I’m sterile, I know a kid isn’t meant to be whether or not I want one, so why do I torture myself like this? I guess if I gave up now I’d feel like a quitter, but that’s not to say for sure that I won’t back out at some point by either force or my own will. With my luck, I’ll just be told they can’t find anything wrong so I can be even more frustrated and confused, but then again, that’s part of getting the information I want. This way, if I go through with this, I won’t have to always wonder if they’d have told me they couldn’t find anything wrong. I’ll know for sure. That’s Tom’s guess. Tom said he couldn’t be sure on this one, but if he had to guess he’d guess they wouldn’t be able to find anything wrong cuz it’d be one of those subtle things beyond their abilities to find that I’ll outgrow in time. No fucking way. My first guess is that they’ll find what’s wrong, but it’ll be one of those rare things that they still can’t fix.

His saying this kind of reinforces my suspicions as to what he’ll do. He, having full control over his cumming, will continue to make sure he rarely cums with me, but that he lets them have a sample for testing, then he’ll hope/believe that they won’t be able to find anything wrong with me, so he can come home, go back to rarely cumming, and end up getting what he wants which is no kid. Meanwhile, if I had been fixable I’d have probably gone and let them fix me, then left it in God’s hands, even though the thought of having a kid and giving up my life and freedom, doesn’t really appeal to me.

I asked Tom why he’d cum in me regularly as he claims he does when he knows I don’t want a kid. He said he does because I didn’t tell him he couldn’t. True. I told him to be himself and do what he wants. Just don’t lie about it.

Anyway, I think I know how this is gonna play itself out. Whether or not I get fixed, he’ll cum very rarely with me and at a safe time, give them a sample of his cum which I didn’t think he’d do at first till I realized how convenient for him it’d be to do so, then he’ll just keep on rarely cumming with me so he can get his way. All this would be just fine too, if he’d just come out and say so. I’m on his side now. I don’t want a kid either, and God will see fit to it that I don’t conceive. I don’t know how to convince him a child will never be in the picture, so he doesn’t have to make such huge sacrifices and live with this fear, be it deep in his subconscious or not. Technically, God doesn’t have to sterilize a woman in order to keep her from conceiving. He can just make sure nothing starts growing in there, but still, fate is fate and I’m fated to never have a child. I’m psychic enough to know this. It’s also common sense too, telling me that he wouldn’t give me something I couldn’t handle.

I say I’d probably let them fix me if I were fixable, but that may not necessarily be so depending on the cost. I wouldn’t lower myself and degrade and humiliate myself by buying into normalcy, so to speak. I’m not gonna make myself suffer over a God who didn’t care enough to let me be born whole and normal. Like I said, there are some things that a woman shouldn’t have to do. Things that are God’s job, not hers.

I think I broke a record last Monday by being able to get to three appointments that were each one week apart. I don’t think I would’ve been able to do that in the past.

For the last two mornings, I’ve gotten anonymous calls at around 9:30. I have a feeling it’s Andy, just being a pest in the midst of his baked boredom. He doesn’t even leave messages. What? Does he just want me to hear the phone ringing and get up to check the box? He’s like that. He does little things like that to get attention. It’s along the same idea as the bangers and their “hear me” and “notice me” kick. I just wish he’d get a life and get a job! He only works a few hours a week. If he tried hard enough, he could get a job very easily in this city, but the fact that he still hasn’t called and told me of his new job that he’ll have for a week, tells me something right there. Even he’s admitted to being lazy and scared. God, he’s sad! How can he be so terrified of starting new jobs when he’s had to do it 100 times? He should be an expert by now.

Later…

God! I can’t even eat soup with noodles in it or the noodles that are in my favorite chicken TV dinners. They get hung up on the braces and get stuck midway down my throat. I’m gonna have to live on chicken broth!

It’s to be cool today and tomorrow, into the 70s for the weekend for perfect partying weather, and cooling down on Monday. Now that’s typical Arizona for you and that means that although the roof will be done this week, I’m gonna be forcefully invited to that mistake’s party if I don’t throw headphones on. Tom said they probably wouldn’t do something as extravagant as that inflatable elephant two birthdays in a row, but still, that doesn’t take away from all the screaming kids that’ll be playing outside, and who knows? They may even use this as an excuse to bang in and out, figuring her birthday’s only once a year, and that if they do it just once every now and then, I won’t complain to the city. But once is never enough for them. Once they really get on a roll, they get totally carried away. It’s like they get addicted to harassing me and they’ve just got to test and push and provoke and aaaarrrrgggghhhh! Some people just like to pick fights and problems, but my vibe isn’t too bad as of yet. Birthday party or not, they gotta do something in return for the roofing noise. I know them. I notice that every 3 months or so, they make some sort of scene for old time’s sake.

Later…

I am so goddamn sick of living like an 18-year-old! I have to go out to the back patio just to be able to use my fucking garbage disposal. I had to turn on the back room power, then after I used the disposal, I went to turn it back off and accidentally turned off the power to the computer and the bedrooms. So I had to reset the alarm clock and the stereo, but like I said, at our ages, I’m sick of living like lazy teenagers or college kids live. We don’t deserve this, but life really isn’t fair. Fucking Dureen was living high off the hog long before she was our age and we don’t even want to live “high off the hog.” We just want a decent house whose doors, faucets, plugs, etc. work well enough. One with a solid roof over our heads for when it rains. One with normal, nice, modern, double-paned windows. With doors that close all the way. With newer, bigger rooms, although, the back room and master bedroom are pretty big. I want a bathroom with elbow room and with at least just the tiniest bit of counter space. Anyway, some would call me selfish I suppose, but I don’t think that that’s too much to ask for in today’s world. Then again, that depends on who we are, doesn’t it? It’s OK for Doe to ask for and to receive just about anything she could want, but some of us, like I did in the past, can’t even ask for a baby. Even that’s too far-fetched and out of the question! You know that’s really not meant to be with a husband like mine and with a God that’s so controlling. What I mean by when I say “like a husband like mine” is in reference to how he only cums twice a year when I’m ragging.

Maybe we’re living like this cuz we’re simply gonna be compensated and live better later on. Once again, why do Tom and I have to pay for everything? Again, life isn’t fair cuz there are so many people who get all kinds of wonderful things for nothing. They don’t work for them, they don’t care about them, and they usually don’t deserve them, either.

Remembering his mom’s old house helps at times like these. Her place is even smaller, older, and more fucked up than ours. After visiting her place, I felt like I was returning to a modern mansion when we returned home! It was only about 700 square feet, but ours is about 1,200. We drove by it yesterday and they lied. The people who bought it aren’t fixing it up. They’re selling it as it is. They didn’t even tear down that old rotted, tilted barn-like garage. They took all the inside and outside blinds down. You can see it’s empty in there. Some huge Mexican family will get it and their screaming kids will join in with the screaming kids next to and behind the house. Their dog will be outside to yip away 24/7 too.

We were out twice yesterday. The first time, we went to pick up that prep kit first, which is an enema. The woman there told me I wasn’t scheduled for both tests on the same day, according to the computer. I almost called it quits right then and there, but later, Tom called back and told me I was scheduled for both tests that day. Well, I’m going for these tests on Monday, as nervous as I am, and if there are any problems, then that’s it. It’s over.

Is God testing me? Why is he doing this to me? How can God do this to a woman?

Vicki said she’s talked to people who have had these tests and she says that some say it’s no big deal, and others say it’s pretty uncomfortable. The woman there said it’d be a little uncomfortable cuz it dilates the cervix a bit. Tom thinks that because I had excruciating periods as a teenager, most women would find it bad, but I won’t find it too bad. I think it’s gonna hurt like hell. I may be a toughie when it comes to teeth, but not with pussies! I’m very sensitive down there. Maybe not like I was before I knew Tom, but I’m still plenty sensitive enough. In fact, one of God’s many reasons for sterilizing me is that he knows I could never handle having a kid.

Like I said, if I had any smarts at all, I’d just call it all off. There’s no reason for me to go through all this shit just for info when I know what the future holds as far as a kid goes, whether I continue to not want a kid, or decide in 5 years I want one again.

I have mixed emotions about not wanting a kid. If I wanted one like I used to, I’d feel more motivated to go through with this shit. However, when the end result was no baby, I don’t think that’d do my emotions any good.

After getting the prep kit, we went to pick up some more roofing shingles, then to two pet stores.

I was surprised and disappointed to find that only one place had Fancy mice and they were all males.

On my way into one of these stores, I saw two little kids heading into the store and thought to myself how they’d go right where I was going. Sure enough, they did, and they were obnoxious in the way that all kids are.

Then we came home and I had some soup, while he unloaded the shingles and made a call to a tool shop.

We went out again and had a little trouble finding the shop, then had to wait for what seemed like 20 minutes for the guy to bring Tom his part for his nail gun. It’s a part that advances the next nail to speed the job up even more.

Our final stop was another pet store. Again, no Fancy mice, but all three places had tons of rats. However, there was this $160 awesome investment that’ll house a whole lifetime of rats! It’s mainly for ferrets, but Ratsy should love this thing! It’s got huge tubes and lots of different levels to climb. Within a week, we’ll be getting this and maybe one or two more rats, too!

So, even though all I ended up getting was mice/rat food, Tom was laughing at how we went from getting a few $3 mice to a $160 cage, although I do still intend to get some more mice.

We enjoyed our time out together and Tom was in a good mood, laughing and mocking me swearing, and you know how clean his mouth is compared to mine! He was even laughing with me at this woman in a car near us who had short, funny-looking hair (Tom almost never laughs at someone for how they look). It was light up top and dark on the bottom. It reminded me of vanilla ice cream on top and a scoop of chocolate ice cream.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 9, 1998 I can finally call for the uterus scan. Once again, though, my period’s really, really light. Even lighter than the last one with no full flow. I had a light flow for a few hours, but now it’s dried up again. Still, I’m gonna make the damn appointment and get that over with.

I’m still stunned that God hasn’t seen to it that I’ve had more female problems than just some yeast infections. Most of all, I can’t believe he hasn’t seen to it that I’ve needed a hysterectomy. I wonder why. That does seem, after all, like something he’d do to me and that would fit my “life patterns,” so to speak. Especially after he’s cursed me sexually. I’d think that if one was cursed with sex, their sexual parts would be cursed too.

Tom and I were talking about how a few months after a couple either adopts or starts fertility testing, they sometimes find the woman’s pregnant so they end up having their own kid after all. Fortunately, that only happens to other couples. God still would not only not give me something like that that I couldn’t handle, but it’s not destined.

I haven’t lost any weight since the braces went on and it looks like I’ll stay the 112-115 pounds I bottomed out at 5 months ago. Especially since I’m constipated nearly every other day.

I’m looking forward to moving my computer back into the back room. Not just so Tom and I can be networked again, and so I can be near the animals again as distracting as they can be, but so I can set up my dolls in the living room where my computer is now. Also, I’m going to go back to walking. My back’s been fine, but if I walk at least 15 minutes a day, no one can say I’m too non-active even if walking doesn’t really do me any good. It doesn’t tone me up or slim me down. It may increase my stamina a bit, though.

Tom worked on Mary’s computer, and as usual, he had to go back to work on it some more. That’s because Mikey fucked it up. Tom talked to Mary about using him for so many jobs, so I would think that she’d keep that in mind, but time will tell.

Sometime late this morning we’ll be going out to get that prep kit for the kidney exam, some more roofing shingles, and 2-3 new mice! We’ll hit PetSmart first, then Petco.

Later…

It’s freezing out! It’s 38º, but it feels less than that. As I knew it’d be, it’s to be a beautiful weekend for the mistake’s party. It’s gonna be sunny and warmer.

The dogs are up now too, so time to run the air cleaner.

Later…

I just came really, really close to calling off the kidney and uterus testing and the whole damn thing. These fucking voice machines! You can’t even talk to a live person anymore! First I called Genesis to schedule the uterus test, but couldn’t get a hold of anyone live. Also, there were no options for scheduling on the main menu, so I had to hit randomly to get a live person. Someone in radiology answered, but couldn’t help me cuz I couldn’t remember the name of the test. So after going through hell trying to get in touch with Vicki, who does Dr. Well’s referrals, I left her a message since she too, has a machine. She was away from her desk, I guess.

Is this where God starts throwing hurdles at me to send me a message saying he disagrees with what I’m doing and therefore trying to stop me?

Later…

Vicki just called and cleared up all my confusion and frustration. At least she did for the time being, anyway. I told her my problem and she gave me the initials for this very long and complicated test name and told me that they’d know what I meant at Genesis Center if I used those initials. Then she offered to make the appointment for me, which I hoped she’d do. So, I’m waiting for her to call me back.

Later…

I heard back from Vicki. I got both the IVP kidney test and the HSG uterus test scheduled for the same day. She said they told her to tell me to have someone drive me to these tests. I’m getting a little nervous here. Are these gonna be really painful tests and am I gonna get sick? She said the uterus test is a form of x-ray, and this is the test where they insert a dye into the fallopian tubes. This test is usually all a sterile woman needs, cuz the most common cause of sterility is clogged fallopian tubes, but I know this isn’t my problem. My problem’s much deeper than just clogged tubes.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1998 Patrice is here! Yup, the mailman surprised me by bringing her as early as 11:20. He said he wanted to get packages out of the way first. I can understand that. There are a lot of them at this time of year.

Patrice is beautiful, but it was just my shit doll luck that the hole in her stand wasn’t drilled through all the way for her toe-hold. Thanks to Tom and his drill bit, though, he widened it up enough. The stand grips her at the top of her thigh. Not the thigh of the leg that’s up in the air, of course. The toe of the leg that’s thigh is gripped, has an extension that goes through the bass of the stand for extra security, even though the thigh gripper does a fine job on its own.

Her hair wasn’t short. It was up in a bun, which makes sense. Ballerinas are feminine, so whoever did hear of a short-haired ballerina? Anyway, it took me forever to get this bun down! It’s still in a ponytail high on her head, but I braided the ponytail. It kind of sticks out a little, but it looks good enough.

Her dress is a little crumpled, but with time, it should fall out nicely. I’ll iron it if I have to.

Tom knows the song she twirls to, but I don’t. It’s kind of boring, even though I love to wind her up and watch her twirl!

So now I have 7 dolls and Patrice is my first one that’s all porcelain. The lollipop doll should be here between mid-late January, and I’d love to get that angel doll with my Christmas money, but that’s just the question - will there be any Christmas money since we’re not exchanging gifts this year?

We got a Christmas card from Cindy and one from Mary, Dave, Mom, and Mikey. I sent out my cards and a letter to Tammy and one to Kim containing my last few emails to her. Her computer’s still out of it.

As for my computer, I really rearranged things, and it was fun.

I called Andy to leave him a message, but he answered. He’s right back to his typical, sad self. He was baked and he’s still mostly jobless. He just sits in front of the TV, listens to music, or gabs on the phone. He said he was gonna sober up when his pot ran out, but he bought some more. He said he keeps in touch every day with 4 different temp agencies, but they have no work available for him. He said he’d like to pick up a paper but can’t afford one. Yet he could afford pot.

Face it, Andy. You don’t want to work or have a life or move on.

He said he had therapy yesterday with his gay therapist who’s had the same boyfriend for 18 years. I hope this will help him get off his ass and out of the rut he’s in. I know it’s hard, but he can’t afford to be lazy and hide behind a joint. He needs to work or else he’ll end up homeless.

No wonder I had a vibe of hitting down at 110 sometime in January. I’m gonna lose weight whether or not I want to, cuz having to keep stripping all this wax and reapplying it is a bitch!

The good of it is that it only took 45 minutes to get these on. Not 1½ hours like with the upper ones. Also, my inner mouth isn’t on fire like it was when the upper ones went on. Guess I’ve learned to use this wax well, but still. I not only have to wax the two inner knobs, but I also have to wax the front to keep my lip from hanging up on them. Your bottom lip goes over the bottom teeth more so than up top so up top never really got hung up. It’s easier to sing than it is to talk since you usually talk faster than you sing. I’m also not as sore as I thought I’d be. I am if I try to eat, though. Too sore to even chew gum. It’ll be a while before I can do that. So, I guess the upper braces will come off in March, and the lower ones will come off in a year when I’m 34. And I guess I won’t be living here when the bottom ones come off, either.

What was flattering to me was that Melanie had my card sitting in her room. And mine was the only card there! Was this because she hasn’t gotten any other cards yet to set up? Or cuz mine was her favorite?

The massage recliner in the living room broke. Tom said it’s not worth fixing, so we’ll bring out the one that’s in the bedroom and dump this one when they do their bulk pick-up out in the alley like they do every few months.

Later…

Just let the cat in to eat and meow. Man, is it freezing out! If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was back east. It’s 50º, but it feels like it’s in the 20s.

I printed out all the things I want to use to border the tops of the pages of my printed versions of these journals. There are old journal covers, drawings, family pictures, celebrity pictures, and a few things that come with the program I used to make the borders. There were a few that I doubted would come out nice, but I told myself to try them anyway, cuz I could always freeloader it if I didn’t like them. So, the freeloaders will get the ones I don’t like for their own journal excerpts. I can’t believe I’m not low on ink after all I printed.

How could I forget my surprisingly good news? I called the doctor’s office and found out that I got a normal pap! Is it a good sign of any kind? I don’t know. It’s too soon to tell. There must be a reason, though, why I’ve come this far, despite his lack of cumming and his lying about it.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1998 It was a dead quiet weekend. No door slamming, no kids, even less barking. That’s because it was such an unusual Sunday full of nothing but rain. It could only rain on a Sunday afternoon cuz of Tom’s trying to finish that fucking roof! If he hadn’t been roofing, it would’ve been bright and sunny. Of course, God will make sure next weekend’s weather is just beautiful for the little animal’s birthday party.

Just when I think I’ve finally played Leak and Bucket for the last time, I have to do it all over again. A part of me wonders if this will ever end! I told myself the other day that once the roof was fixed, I’d never again take for granted having a solid roof over my head, but now I wonder if I’ll be paranoid for the next 5 years whenever it rains. The good and shocking part of it is that it didn’t leak in here. Water did drip through the unfinished parts of the roof into the attic where there were little tears in the tarp, but Tom went up and put buckets under those drips. The only new thing that appeared was a little strip of what looked to be a water stain seeping through a crack in the plaster in the living room. Tom, though, said he couldn’t find any moisture up in the attic and said that there was less than a teaspoon in each bucket he put up there. Not enough to cause that line, so was the line always there, and did I, who’s usually so observant, miss it?

I don’t know if I forgot to write this, but Tom buried Spot in one of Bunny’s old holes that needed to be filled in any way.

Backing up to Saturday. Saturday was cool and breezy too, but not like Sunday. Sunday was cold! You could see your breath in the air. Saturday posed a threat of rain too, and Tom didn’t exactly feel comfortable exposing the roof to work on it when it could’ve started raining. So we went way out of town to a hardware store just to waste our time. He was looking for some part for his nail gun, but the stupid male prick that worked there didn’t know shit. He was obviously having some problems with his son too, who kept calling him. The guy told his son that if he called one more time he wouldn’t be able to sit. So I joked with Tom about calling the store to ask if his son could still sit.

I wasn’t kidding when I said that something up there really wants to make it hard for me to get dolls. I really have to pay and go through a lot to get them. We were heading to the doll store since they’re closed on Sundays and Mondays, and oh my God! Phoenix is notorious for its constant construction that’s everywhere and I’m sooo fucking sick of it! We got held up in traffic for quite a while cuz they closed a part of the freeway. It felt like it took us 4 hours just to get to this goddamn store.

Both the Edie dolls were still there, but I was wrong about her price. I thought she was $30, but she was $40 just like Anne, and Tom said that was fine. They’re both Seymour Mann dolls. For the most part, the dolls in this store were boring. There was a doll that was rather unique and odd-looking, though. I wouldn’t want her, but she was cool to see for the sake of something different. It was just your typical doll with regular arms, legs, mouth, hair, etc., but she had lavender eyes!

That nice guy that works there whose name is Mark, so I heard, told me that it usually takes 7 weeks to make two dolls. I didn’t know the people in the classes got to make two. He said, though, that since it can get pretty addicting, some ladies have been with them for years. So I guess you can do all you pay for.

The Barbie dolls were about $20-$40. Most of them wore gorgeous dresses. That’s the problem - the really small dolls get the nice outfits, and the bigger dolls that I like get the outfits that aren’t as nice. Part of it is the difference between porcelain and Barbies. The Barbie doll’s bodies are whole bodies, but the porcelain ones have no bodies. The trunks of their bodies are just stuffing. There was, however, a porcelain doll that had most of her body, cuz she was a woman doll and she wore a gorgeous dress that didn’t cover as much as the girl’s dresses usually do. The dresses that go on the girl dolls aren’t as nice, of course, as the dresses that the women dolls get. There were some pretty fancy dresses on a few porcelain women dolls. One was dressed as a Vegas showgirl. One had such a fancy dress of such nice material and of jewels that she was $1000! I guess this is a new string of dolls, cuz I don’t remember seeing them before. Their faces and hair were boring, though, and they were all the same. Only the outfits were different.

Anyway, I’m hoping to get this gorgeous doll I saw with any Christmas money I get. She was beautiful! An angel doll of some sort with purple wings, a nice lavender dress, really long blond hair, and an elegant and graceful pose. She’s a shorter doll like Jessica and Sunshine and Lollipops at about 14”. Her face was nice, too. Just like Summer Dream, her head is turned to one side. The opposite side of Summer Dream’s, which means she’ll go perfectly where I plan on putting her.

After this fucking roof is finally done, I’m going to move my computer back into the back room. Not just so we can network our computers again, but so I can put the red table that was in the living room back in there. I’m gonna keep Summer Dream in the music room and I’ll probably keep Jessica in there, too. Bailey and Rapunzel will go back on the living room speaker and TV. On the red table, I was going to line up Edie, Anne, Sunshine and Lollipops, Patrice, and Angel.

Tom believed Patrice would come that day, too (Saturday). I thought there was a chance of it since I seem to be getting dolls in twos lately, but nope. I gotta be either asleep or out when dolls come, but Tom says today’s an unlikely day for a parcel post delivery to be made. If it were first class, that’d be different.

Ashton Drake sent us what was supposed to be a mini magnetic dry-erase board, but not quite. You have to wet a cloth to erase the writing.

All I saw at the freeloader’s all weekend was a white car with a rack of some sort on its trunk. I went into the music room and heard a beat going and was like, shit! I knew it was just a matter of time before we’d hear from them, but I didn’t have a vibe about this weekend. I expected a ruckus next weekend. Then I realized it was the heartbeat I switched to in place of the stereo. Since this fan is softer than the last one, the heartbeat on my sound spa can be heard, and I like it so much better than the stereo cuz this beat is steady.

I got rid of “Mystery’s world” on the computer since the whole computer is my world now. I put the stuff that was in Mystery’s world into the start/program area.

I also paired up some journal pictures. That birthday wallpaper message turned out to be quite a present. I didn’t know this, but in the WinDraw program I use a lot, you can select a screen size background and make what you want on it. I made two collages of my favorite Gloria pictures and one of Norah’s. Then I paired up some of my journal covers to lessen the number of files I have. After I touch those up a bit, I’ll pair some family pictures.

Andy, who just has to do the opposite of what you ask him and who doesn’t always give a shit about what you’d prefer, just couldn’t wait till we talked live to tell me the rain he was driving through was mixed with snow. Yeah, it snowed in Vegas. Meanwhile, in New England, they’re having this unbelievably mild weather. They were even in the 70s! The 70s in November!! That’s quite a record.

Kim also called and is all moved into her apartment in Northampton with Walter. They’re in a two-family house. They have the top two floors. She’s got big rooms with hardwood floors. It’s a two-bedroom apartment and it’s $900 a month! Jesus! That’s the northeast for you. Especially Northampton.

Anyway, I guess Walt’s conveniently decided he wants kids. They’re gonna get married and be trying for a kid over the next year or so. I just hope Kim doesn’t get burned by him not doing his part in making the kid or by him leaving when the kid’s born if it’s born. That’s what I wonder. Would God give such a wonderful person whom I know would make a great mom a kid? She has the looks for it, that’s for sure. I hope she gets what she wants, though.

I called Tammy back Saturday morning. Mark and she are remodeling the hell out of her place. She was really nice in asking how my birthday went and she was happy about what I got/am getting, even though it’s not what she’d want. She’s gotten better at listening to me about my interests, whereas in the past she didn’t really care unless it was something she could relate to.

I spoke to Lisa too, and as usual, she’s not doing very well. She’s happy she’s lost weight. She’s gone from 152 pounds to 120 pounds, but now she’s into pot and acid. Great! Just fucking great! I’m glad I’m not destined to have a kid.

It’s almost scary to see how closely her life is like mine was, although I didn’t get into acid. I try not to compare us, but it’s something you can’t miss. Like I said, the only thing that’s different is her seeming to be as straight as an arrow so far anyway, and her interest in meteorology. Makes me wonder if she’s sterile and if she too, will go through years of depression over not being able to have a kid. I hope I’m wrong, and if not, I hope she doesn’t want one anyway, and therefore, doesn’t mind sterility. I don’t know about her or Sarah having kids, but I’ll bet you all my journals that Becky will be a mom someday. She already looks like a mom. She’s got God’s qualifications on that one totally. It’s like God has a fixation with homelier and plain-looking ladies becoming mothers. There are a few good-looking mothers, but they’re one in every 10,000.

She swears she hasn’t talked to Larry in over a month, but you know I can’t trust one thing she says anymore.

I still can’t call for the uterus test since I’m still only spotting. I wish my fucking rag would hurry up and start!

I fear my pap was too bloody to read and that’s why there are still no results posted for me on that voice messaging thing. If so, that’ll really piss me the fuck off, cuz this is why I went straight to a GYN in the first place, and I told her so. The whole idea was to avoid having to play the repeat pap game.

I’m hurt and angry with Tom right now, but not as hurt and as angry as I should be. Perhaps the reasons I’m not more hurt and angry are cuz I don’t want a child and cuz this is nothing new. It’s not like I just found out how abnormal our sex is and that he’s lied about sex and having a kid. I should’ve known that he’d eventually resort to bold lying and say he’s been cumming regularly when that’s pure bullshit. A lot of people are like him - they just deny what they want. So long as it can only be suspected and not literally proven in the way that you can prove it’s either light outside or dark.

Kim once told me she couldn’t tell if a guy came in here, but what Tammy told me is what I’m sure most women would tell me - that they can tell when their man cums. They ask rape victims if their attacker came. Why would they ask that unless they knew she could tell? There’s always been a distinct difference to me when Tom’s cum. When he cums, the sheets under my ass are soaked and so are my inner thighs. It feels as if I wet the bed when he cums. When he doesn’t, I don’t feel any different. Yet he has the bold nerve to tell me he cums 7-8 out of 10 times.

So I was right, after all, about how this infertility thing would play out. He probably figured I’d be fixable and that I’d let them fix me and leave getting pregnant up to God. Then he’d let them have his cum for testing which he has full control over, then he’d just come home and make sure he very rarely cums with me and that if he did cum, it was at a safe time. As to why I never would’ve ended up pregnant? Just because, he’d say. Just because that happens sometimes for no apparent reason. The doctor, he knows, would support this too. So that way he could’ve escaped having to deal with why he’s too afraid to cum, and why I didn’t get pregnant.

The man just doesn’t want to cum. Period. He told me he was gonna tell me from now on whether or not he cums, cuz he’s sick of how I “test” him (by his not correcting my comments about how he cums regularly, when we know damn well he doesn’t). I told him that that’s up to him. It’s not if he cums that I care about. It’s if he lies about it that I care about. He also told me that sometime in 1998 he began cumming regularly cuz of how we were able to get him inside me regularly, and cuz of the wonderful friction he feels now that he’s on top. First of all, he’s been on top for a while now. Second of all, he said sex is an emotional thing for him and not a physical thing. Lastly, he’s the one that refused to go inside me at times in the past. He’s the one that just had to play his games. It’s all bullshit excuses as far as I’m concerned. I’ve thought about it and thought about it and there’s no way he could be cumming regularly. I’d give anything to be wrong about this, but I know without a doubt that I’m not. And besides, no guy that doesn’t want a kid, and whose wife doesn’t want a kid, is gonna go squirting in her pussy regularly. He even admitted he’d do what I wanted first when it came to that. Even if he did want a kid, which I know damn well he doesn’t, he’d still go along with my not wanting one first, and do what he had to in order to ensure that I got what I wanted, which is no kid.

Now, why couldn’t he have just come out and told me, “I don’t want a kid and you don’t either, so why don’t I just not cum? I’d rather not cum than have to have you go through the hassles of birth control. I can get off on my own if I need to. Meanwhile, you go on ahead with your testing and try getting the answers you want.”

I also expressed that I was mad at myself for not going to this doctor back in 1994 when I wanted a kid, knew I was sterile, and so I could’ve maybe avoided years of misery. I should’ve not worried about him like he tells me not to. He always tells me not to worry about him and to just take care of myself. Then he tried to make me feel worse by turning things around and saying that I was mad at him and that I was blaming him. Well, I don’t appreciate his putting being embarrassed to talk to the doctors about his not cumming over my needs and my depression. He preferred that I go through all that depression like I did than be cornered by a doctor about his not cumming and about his not doing something he doesn’t want to do. What would he have done? Gone in there back then and said, “My wife wants a kid and she wants me to cum, but I don’t want a kid and I don’t want to cum, either?”

Still, we could’ve worked things out years ago somehow, if he’d only had the balls to face it and deal with it without going into denial and getting into lying and all that.

I’ll bet you anything that he’ll start telling me, after sex, that he hasn’t cum now that he knows I know he’s only cum twice in 1998. He admits to not cumming during the roofing, though, cuz it was at that time that I hinted certain things to him and he kind of caught on and figured he better be more honest from here on out. So, since then he’s admitted he doesn’t cum. It’s nice to know Tammy’s 48-year-old man can still get off in the midst of doing all that physical work of remodeling, but my 41-year-old man can’t. He can’t mix sex with physical work. Gotta act like an 80-year-old man instead.

Like I said, I don’t care how the sex itself is. It’s the lying and the lame, bogus excuses I get tired of, but this shit just never ends. If you want a sexual relationship of any kind with Tom S, you have to take it part-time, half-assed, and with all the lame lies and excuses added in. Then he said, “I could tell you that you should give me the benefit of the doubt when I tell you I cum regularly, but I won’t. I’ll let you be you and I’ll be me.”

Meanwhile, I guess I’ll continue on with the testing even if it does me no good in the long run. Tom might change his plans since I mentioned figuring that he’d let them have his cum for testing. He may refuse to let them have any now. If that’s what happens, then he can deal with this doctor alone about his not cumming if he wants to, but me? I’ll be out of there and permanently done with this whole fucking issue. It’s no wonder I don’t want a child anymore with this man. Not just because I don’t want the responsibilities and burdens of a child, and not just because I don’t want my life and freedom taken away by a kid, but because I’m so fucking sick of the whole subject that it sickens me. I just hope to hell I never go back to wanting a kid because both God and Tom would never allow me one.

Also, he’s been punishing me by not having sex with me all weekend.

What else could he be lying to me about? Is there anything else that’s not so obvious as this one that he’s been putting me on about? I’m just so confused. I don’t know who to trust or what to do, think, or believe anymore.

My lower teeth are enjoying their last moments of freedom. Got up at 2 AM. A little earlier than I’d like to have gotten up since I won’t be seeing Melie till 1:30, but I’ll live.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 5, 1998 Once again, I fell asleep to the sound of his nail gun and I got up at 9 PM.

Fortunately, there were no unwanted calls/messages for me. There was a message from Tammy and Andy. I returned Andy’s message and will call Tammy tomorrow. Her message was sweet and sincere, but I got a kick out of how she lied about trying to call me several times. Not according to the Caller ID box. She also said she was calling from Mark’s. Then why did her number show up? God, that lying sister of mine! I still appreciated her message very much, though, and I know she means well.

I told Tom I wouldn’t even let Doe, Art, or Larry get the chance to leave a message if I saw their number show up. I’d pick the phone up and hang right back up on them. He said that wouldn’t be very smart, cuz what if someone was sick? So what? I said. Then he said that he’s not saying this will happen in the near future, but they know how much I like Goldie and Al. Yeah, so? That doesn’t mean they’d call to tell me they were sick if they were sick. Unless Tammy’s dumb enough to associate with them again and therefore tells me when they die, I know I can figure that in 10-15 years they’ll be gone. He said that’s not the way it works. Well, that’s the way it works with my family. Art wouldn’t call me if Dureen died. Larry wouldn’t call me if Sandy or Jen died.

I figured I’d gain the most I’d ever gained before in one day, but I only gained 4 pounds. I got up to 116 pounds. Tom said I’d wake up at 114 pounds. I figured that after diving into that Chinese food I’d hit 118, so I told him I’d wake up at 116. We were both wrong. I amazingly got up at 113. I’m really 4 more pounds than I say I am cuz house scales are always 4 pounds less than doctor’s scales and I’d think the doctor’s scales would be more accurate. So when I’m 113, I’m really 117. And when I’m really 117, I look 127!

Tom said that if I think the bangers that bang by are bad, I should hear what it’s like up on the roof. Lately, our local bangers haven’t been too bad. Just like with sales calls, they escalate, then they slack off, and back and forth. Up on the roof, you can hear everything, since it’s above any walls and the sound can just go right through. He said they banged by constantly, but most of them were miles away. I believe it. Give it another 10-20 years and you’ll be able to go up on your roof and hear stereos in California, that’s how desperate and lonely this society has become.

I was laughing to myself over that bitch and her trying to haul my ass into court. Here I say how courts don’t work and all that, yet in a sense, it did work for her. Ever since she tried having me served, I haven’t sent any wacky or hateful mail and there’s been no bottle tossing. In fact, this is the longest stretch of time where they haven’t forced me into doing something to them cuz of their shit. So in the end, and as of yet, we both got what we wanted - to not be bothered by one another.

Speaking of them bothering me, I don’t have a bad vibe for this weekend, but I’ll bet you anything that they’ll use the mistake’s birthday party as an excuse to be heard back after all that roofing noise. Again, not cuz noise bothers them, but just because it’s coming from over here. Even if we weren’t roofing, every so often there’ll be a bit of a ruckus from over there, like I said. Gotta remind me that they’re there. Gotta rebel a little. rolls eyes

I didn’t call the uterus people today, cuz those two spots were all I had. When the fuck is it ever gonna start? It’s like it gets wimpier and wimpier each month. Maybe the exam confused it. It seems I bled the most I’ve ever bled at one of these exams the last time, so maybe the exam threw it off. Oh well. It’s gotta start sooner or later.

As far as I know, we’re going to the doll store today at 10:00 when they open. I’ll have to remember to check out their collector’s Barbie dolls this time. I’m curious to compare their prices to the Barbie doll I saw for $17 in a drugstore. I wonder if they’ll have those 36” dolls he said they were getting for just $300?

I also wonder if Patrice will come today, although I think Monday or Tuesday is more likely. It’s just that Summer Dream was delivered on a Saturday.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 4, 1998 Yes, I’m 33 today. Anyway, it’s about time I do some writing.

Yesterday, we planned to have me stay up as long as I could. Without Benadryl that was no problem. I was up 19-20 hours before I fell asleep but get this - I slept through his nail gun all day! I’ve come a long way since those mad butches and project animals. He finished at 4:00 and at 6:00 I woke up. I was still tired, but couldn’t go back to sleep, so I took a Benadryl and slept till just after midnight. Guess I was beat!

Tom wished me a happy birthday when I got up, and if you think I’m gonna spend my birthday worrying about dieting - think again! So I had him pick me up some stuff from Jack-n-the-Box and he got some stuff too.

I noticed an envelope on top of the scanner where Tom places my mail when he gets it and thought, oh no! The handwriting looked like Dureen’s, but it was a nice card from Evie.

Fortunately, I have no vibes of any assholes trying to contact me, but if they did, it’d only be cuz they were trying to win me over so they could fuck me over yet again. It’s not gonna happen for the millionth time, of course, cuz any calls that may come in will be ignored. An hour later, he went to work. He had gotten the night off, but as the bank usually does, they fuck his schedule over and push overtime on him, so he had to go in tonight. That’s OK, though. Gives me a chance to catch up on my writing.

When I came in here, there was a message on my wallpaper from Tom. On a pink background with some cactuses and balloons, he wrote: Happy Birthday Jodi Lin.

Then I went to check my email and got 4 messages from Evie. You heard right - 4 messages. One seemed to be blank, but the others were saying a little bit about what was going on with her and how she was thinking of me on my birthday, and the last one was great. I told her I prefer dirty jokes. It just seems that the raunchier they are, the funnier. So she sent me this thing that had a list of things about Thanksgiving that sounded dirty, but weren’t, like, what a huge breast! And it must be broken cuz every time I squeeze the tip, nothing comes out.

My period’s starting. At least it seems to be starting again. Still, I’m gonna go ahead and call to set up a time for the uterus scan.

Yesterday, I finished the huge task of taking out all our pictures and reorganizing the photo albums. It helped me to push my schedule by keeping super busy, but it sure was a big job! It was fun and worth it, too.

I forgot to mention something about Melanie that I noticed, and thought was a bit odd. I noticed she had a thin gold wedding band on her thumb. There were no rings on any other fingers. I had thought, though, that I saw some sort of diamond on her ring finger when we first met. Could she be getting a divorce? I hope not for her sake, cuz I want her to be happy.

El cocko’s been taking its bitch back at the end of the day, but the thing that worries me is all the time he’s taking to do so. He was here for an hour and a half the other day and this worries me. He didn’t take an hour and a half to see the mistake. This I know. No guy like the scum he is would do that so that only leaves one other probable thing and I don’t like it. This cock is trying to get on her good side and weasel back in here. Then when it comes in here, things will be OK in the beginning, except for its constant door slamming, and then the music will start back up. Uh-uh. Ain’t gonna happen, Mikey! You come back, you’ll be bounced right back out!

I’d love to really do some detective work and follow her someday. Not just to see where she goes out of curiosity, but to really freak her out even more when she reads that I know where she goes. It’ll be one thing to read that I’ve got her unlisted phone number, and her account number as far as her housing goes, among a few other things, but something like this should really give her the creeps.

For my birthday, Tom ordered me Sunshine and Lollipops. She was ordered on the 2nd.

I called to ask about Patrice, whom I was last told would be shipped on 12/12, but she left on 11/18 and is on her way! It takes 10-15 business days for dolls to go from the company to the people, so I’d say she’ll be here sometime next week.

If Tom’s mom remembers or even cares, to tell you the truth, to send me $33, I’ll get Edie from the doll store.

Sometime next week, Tom wants to take me to pick out some baby mice! I like the new idea better than the old one. Originally, we were gonna get a male mouse to impregnate all my female mice, but instead, we’re gonna get a few pregnant females. As we well know, all you need is 3 pregnant females to give you more than you need as far as increasing the population goes. Better to get a few young pregnant ones than to impregnate the 7 I’ve got and put these old mice through the hassles of that.

Later…

Andy had me on the phone for quite a while a couple of days ago, but I managed to get out of it just over an hour into the conversation. The sad thing about it was, was that the whole time we talked, he didn’t tell me anything new except for the good news that his AIDS test was negative and that he hated the L.A. traffic.

He was totally stoned. Not able to understand much of what I was saying, not letting me get a word in edgewise too well, and just going on and on and on about the same old goddamn, boring things. Aaaaaarrrgggggghhhhhhhh!

I reminded myself of how I used to love hearing from him and I felt a twinge of guilt for finding him so annoying, but I can’t help it. I’ve changed and he hasn’t. I just don’t find Andy of interest to me anymore. No, I won’t dump him, cuz he hasn’t harmed me. I want to be there for him whenever possible, I want him to have love with David or with someone, but I just wish he’d hurry up and get the fuck back east! I still doubt it’s gonna happen, and he’s changed his plan once again. He’s not going in May with his aunt and uncle. But before I could get the chance to ask why he told me he was gonna drive back in April. I don’t know if he’ll go, but I’d rather type him letters than listen to him babble about the usual once or twice a week for an hour, then be too much of a stoned airhead to remember anything he told me or that I told him. The question is, though, will he remember the things I write to him? He told me that he remembers reading the encouraging letter I just sent him and that he was touched by it, but can’t remember a damn thing I said. That’s sad. He also says he couldn’t remember that Michelle just turned 24. He thought she was gonna be 25. He guessed me to be turning 34. He said his memory problem couldn’t be all pot-related and I told him to go see a doctor, but I think it is all pot-related.

No one likes to be miserable. I know. I’ve been there. And I’d have done something about it the very first day I felt miserable if I could’ve, but a part of me wonders about Andy. Does he really care that he’s the way he is? I know he wants to be loved, and I believe he’d stay sober forever if he could, but does he really give a shit about working and other things? Are the phone and TV his only interests? I asked him if he felt he could want to get fired deep down, but he said no way, it’s such an awful thing to have to go through, and he didn’t see how I could think that he’d want to get fired as much as he does, but I don’t know. A part of me thinks he not only sets himself up to be fired out of fear, but so that he can have more time to be home watching TV, listening to Stevie Nicks, and gabbing on the phone for hours on end with a joint between his lips. I can kind of understand and relate to the wanting to be home more often. We’re both homebodies and if I were working full-time, I’d wish I could be home enjoying my stuff and doing the things I enjoy too, as Tom pointed out.

He also admits he eats like a pig when he can, yet he’s so big on people looking thin and young.

All he told me about L.A. was how shitty the traffic was and how gloomy he found L.A. to be.

Meanwhile, he says he’s gonna be calling temp agencies to see what’s available. So I guess he’ll stay with Red Lobster till they fire him, then work for another temp agency for a week or two.

Then he’s so negative about us moving, saying that there’s pollution outside the valley too, and more spiders, and shit like that. Why does he always find negative things to say about the things people look forward to doing/having, etc.?

Later…

The voice messaging thing for my pap results still hasn’t gotten my results. It’s still a little soon, though. If I don’t get my results by Monday, I’ll call the office. At least I can rest assured that there was nothing wrong. If there was something wrong, I’d have been contacted by now.

I had a burger, some fries, and a slice of cheesecake, and now, it’s popcorn time!

Later…

I know my doll won’t come today even though it could, technically. I’ll be home and awake at mail time.

It’s freezing out there now! The cool thing about being in the desert, though, is that in just a few hours it’ll be warm.

The cock was here picking its bitch up. The bitch has three different people that I know of to give her rides to and from work if she needs it. Three people! I couldn’t have gotten me one person, let alone three if I had been in her shoes years ago! Yes, she’s got three people between her cock, the tall thing in the light blue car that I think is her sister, and Bill.

I’ve been taping Christmas music, but so far, I could only get one good song. At one point, when I was scanning through a tape, I heard rap music. Some freeloaders got together and put out a Christmas song with a rap beat. Typical, typical freeloaders. They gotta do everything in such set ways. Everything to them is rap, drugs, violence, laziness, and church. They don’t know anything else. Most of them have no education whatsoever.

And a part of me still wishes I didn’t let her get a word out of her black mouth when it came yelling at my door last year. I should’ve just beat the fuck out of her right then and there before she could even utter a word, and how embarrassed I am for myself for writing that I hope her taking her tizzy fit makes her feel better. Like I really give a shit how that sick fuck feels? Yeah, right!

Later…

Damn! I gained 4 pounds today. All that just for taking one day off from eating so little? God, my metabolism’s so slow! I could eat my way back up to the mid-120s in less than a week.

Later…

Two days in a row there was a hang-up message from an unavailable source. These sales freaks almost never leave messages and it’s highly unusual to get hang-ups two days in a row. So let me guess - a certain bastard left these hang-ups from a place cross country from his trucking company?

I was right. No doll today. Could be tomorrow, but more likely, it’ll come Monday while we’re at Melanie’s.

I fell asleep about 4 hours earlier and woke up when Tom came home. After having one of his cakes he got, I fell back asleep till he went up on the roof.

Tom just left to get me some Chinese food and to get him something from Arby’s.

Got a nice card with teddy bears from Mom with a $33 check. I asked Tom about going to the doll store today and he said we could go if I really had to, but would rather work on the roof. So, we’ll go get the doll sometime next week, along with the mice.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 1, 1998 Spot died. The one with the tumor. I put her in one of the coffee cans I saved. She was lying at the bottom of the 3-story house they have in the big aquarium. Now I only have 7 mice. Too few.

I made a pets file in the cardfile thing. I’ve got two index cards so far. One for dates animals were bought or born. One for when they died. Spot’s birth/death dates are 11/13/1997-12/1/1998.

I called Andy to see if he wanted to talk and he said he’ll call me around 10:00.

I’m recording some Christmas music now. The DTV has a station that plays Christmas music and it’s commercial-free.

I’m now reading Smoke by Ruby Jean Jensen.

I realized something last night. It’s been a while since I had those constant dizzy spells I’d get.

Tom said he heard a medical report saying there was no connection between smokers and thinness. That’s not what I’ve heard, but that’s cool to know. I think most women are fat cuz most women have kids, and I think most guys are fat cuz most guys eat like pigs.

I printed out November’s journal and used Gloria’s pictures bordering the tops of the pages. It looks good. I printed out Gloria’s and Norah’s pictures for borders, and at some point, I’ll do family pictures, and maybe my journals too.

It didn’t rain today as they predicted, so Tom did some roofing. About two-thirds of it is done.

Later…

If Andy calls on time, and I’m sure he will, I’m gonna have to listen to him go on and on for two grueling hours. Why’s he gotta take so long to tell me about himself when he has no life to begin with, as even he admits?

0 notes

cjsinkythoughts · 4 years

Text

It’s All in the Perspective

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4491

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Gun Violence, Minor Character Injury, A Peek at Angry Bucky, Explosions (if that’s a warning), Mentions of Stevie (I really miss him, guys)

A/N: So! Here it is! Part 4.3! After long hours of laboring and slaving away - kidding, kidding. I had a bit of trouble with this part, not gonna lie, because there’s a lot of feelings I wanted to try explaining. To do that, there’s a little sort of twist at the end that, once I decided to put in, made the chapter much smoother to write. I wasn’t happy with it at first, but now I’m satisfied.

There’s a lot of things happening in this one; it’s longer than I had anticipated because of the little snippet at the end I added. It’s got a few scene-for-scene things, but I kinda blew past it just to get to the characters’ emotions and stuff. Plus writing action like the shipping yard scene is hard when you’re not focusing entirely on that scene, which I wasn’t.

You’ll notice that the last little bit with Ayo (the Wakandan) isn’t in this. That’s because I couldn’t really find a way to fit it in and I’m assuming it will fit in better with next week’s episode.

Not beta’d, so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you wonderful people for reading and commenting! I enjoy hearing your opinions and what you like about the show and the series! Enjoy the final Part for Episode 3 and stay tuned for an announcement tomorrow about the One Shots I’ll be doing in relation to this series!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

You and Bucky kept sneaking glances at each other as you walked through the dock, weaving between the different colored shipping containers with Sharon leading the way. Every time you caught his eye, his ears turned red and he looked away, scanning your surroundings. Not that you were any better, immediately turning away when he turned your way.

You almost kissed him. Fuck. You couldn’t let that happen. He was your friend. Your teammate. He was the best friend to the man you fell in love with, who just so happened to be your best friend. Your best friend who left you. Your best friend who you promised you would watch out for Bucky.

Bucky…who you also fell in love with. Whether or not it was because of Steve, the fact of the matter was: you loved him. You loved both of them. And you’d never loved anyone like that before. And one left. And the other was trying to navigate through his shitty life. And you weren’t any better. Which is why, you decided in that moment, that no matter how much you wanted to - and holy shit did you want to - you wouldn’t pursue.

Yet. Maybe. Ugh! When did feelings become so complicated?!

When you started having them.

You silently grumbled to yourself, shaking your head clear. You had to focus and be in the moment. Now was not the time to sort out what to do about the suddenly rising emotions towards the cerulean eyed brunette currently burning with you with a gaze you refused to return.

“Alright.” Sharon stopped, making the group stop as well. “He’s in there. Container 4261. I’ll keep an eye out while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry; we’re on borrowed time.”

You each grabbed one of the earpieces she held in her palm, slipping it comfortably in your ear. “I’ll stay back with you.” Sharon went to talk, but you cut her off. “I’d feel better knowing it’s not just you out here.”

She pursed her lips, before nodding. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

“Doll-”

“I’ll be fine, Buck.” You insisted, checking your gun to make sure it was loaded. Bucky stayed quiet, nodding in begrudging acceptance.

You and Sharon headed off as the boys went towards the storage unit. “Just like old times, huh?” Sharon raised an eyebrow at you.

You grinned, shoving your gun in the thigh holster she let you borrow. “Let the good times roll, babe.”

“Absolutely.” Sharon winked, before you two split up to cover more ground. It wasn’t long before Sharon announced company and you took off sprinting in her direction.

You got to her just as more thugs approached her from behind, immediately lunging into action.

“Hey, so, we never finished that conversation!”

You grunted as you roundhouse kicked a guy, hooking your knee over his shoulder and pulling him to the ground by the neck “Really?! You wanna do that now?!”

“Sure! I’m not too busy!”

You rolled your eyes at her reply, seeing her knock a guy unconscious before she turned around to knee another one in the face. “What were we talking about?”

“Why’re you holding back?”

“It’s complicated!” You elbowed a guy in the ribs, flipping him over your shoulder and twisting his arm till a sickening crack sounded.

“Because of Steve?!”

“Yes - no! Kind of!”

Sharon was on the floor choking a guy out as you slammed a guy’s head into a shipping container, pushing him at another guy. “You loved him didn’t you?! And I mean, like in love with him!”

“Who?!” You laced your fingers around the back of his head and brought his face down onto his knee.

“Director Fury!” You gave her a look which she snorted at. “Steve, you dumbass! Who else?!”

“Yeah! No shit I was in love with him!” You ran up the side of a storage unit to do a backflip and land on some guy’s shoulders, choking him out. Before he fell, you rolled off, tripping a guy in the process and elbowing his throat.

“Well at least you’re admitting it now!”

You were hit in the back of the head, thrown into a wrestle with another guy on the ground. You bit his hand, making him cry out, before you headbutted him.

“You couldn’t even hear his name without having to remind people you were ‘just friends’!”

“We were just friends, Share! You know that!”

You heard her shoot of a gun a few times as you smacked someone in the back of the head with the butt of your gun, trying to save ammo. “You really never did anything about it?!”

“No!”

She glanced at you incredulously from across the way, bodies now littering the ground. “And you don’t regret that?”

“No.” You sighed at her look, relenting. “Yes. Kind of. I dunno. I mean…he’s happy with his decision, and for me that’s enough.”

“But doesn’t it hurt?”

“Of course it hurts. It hurts like hell. But-”

“But you still have him so it’s all good.”

You bit your lip, shrugging. “Something like that.”

Sharon tilted her head, confused. “So why don’t you tell him?”

“I dunno. I don’t think either of us is ready.”

“C’mon. I saw you two earlier. You should’ve just kissed him.”

Rolling your eyes, you frowned when you noticed something missing. “Ah shit. My ear piece. It must’ve fallen out earlier.” You looked around, but Sharon stopped you, nodding her head between a couple shipping containers.

“Don’t worry about it. Mine broke a little while ago, too. Let’s go get the guys. Tell them we need to leave.”

You nodded and started running with her to the unit Nagel’s lab was in. You followed her around the corner, only to widen your eyes and shove her out of the way. Two gunshots rang out, Sharon catching the guy right between the eyes, while the man’s bullet grazed your shoulder.

“Ow, fuck.” You hissed, hand immediately going up to clamp your wound.

“Dammit! You shouldn’t have done that, you idiot!”

You gave her a look. “You’re welcome.”

Rolling her eyes, she quickly tore off part of your shirt. “Hey!”

“First off, this is my shirt. Second, I’m just making it more of a crop top. Third, it’s your own fault, so quit your whining.”

“Touchy touchy.” You grumbled, wincing when she tied it around your arm.

“Just come on. And hey,” she turned to you as she sprinted with your wrist in her hold. “My advice? Don’t wait. Seriously. I know it must be weird, the whole he’s his best friend, he was your best friend, now he’s your best friend, thing you’ve got going on, but there’s nothing else stopping you. Steve made his choice. And he’d be fine with whatever you choose as long as you’re happy.”

You shook your head. “But Bucky’s still healing-”

“So? He’s already been on dates. I think you’re just using that as an excuse to protect your heart from hurting again. Trust me; Barnes isn’t going anywhere.”

Not able to respond since you were making your way to the guys in Nagel’s lab, you bit your lip, hating that she got the last say in the conversation. She definitely planned it so she would. “We’re outta time, fellas.”

As if things couldn’t get worse Zemo - that fucking snake, you knew he was gonna do something stupid - took out a gun he got from who knows where. You sure as hell didn’t let him have a gun. Before you could stop him, he shot Nagel, your best, your only, lead.

“Goddammit!” You growled as Sam and Sharon restrained him. “You fucking-”

The explosion came next, again happening faster than you could react. Bucky grabbed you and pulled you underneath him, covering you with his body as glass and metal flew around you. With ringing ears, you groaned, squinting your eyes open.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You were vaguely aware of the alarms going off, a red light blinking behind Bucky’s head. You nodded, his worried eyes softening just slightly at your response. “We gotta get out-”

“I know, I know. C’mon.” He helped you up, eyes catching sight of the makeshift bandage on your arm. “Dammit, what did you do?”

“I’m fine.” You pushed his hands off. “Go help Sharon. We’ve gotta move. Now.” He huffed, but nodded and moved over to get Sharon. You tried to see where Zemo went through the smoke, but he was already gone.

You four made it just before the whole thing combusted due to the chemicals in the lab. So much for any evidence or leads.

The moment you got out, you were thrust into a gunfight, rolling your eyes as Bucky and Sam, once again, did their own thing.

“Are they always like this?”

“Usually it’s worse. Wait until they start arguing about who was right.” Sharon gave you an unamused look to which you nodded at, ducking when a bullet whizzed by you. “I know. It’s so annoying.”

Sure enough, when Bucky ran out of bullets, the bickering commenced, making you huff and Sharon shout at them. “Are they serious?”

You shot a few more bullets before your gun started clicking. “Dammit. Unfortunately.”

“I’m out!”

“Me too!”

Another explosion and a person you couldn’t see clearly through the haze caused a distraction for you guys to get away, Sam practically shoving you and Sharon into an open shipping container as Bucky took care of a couple more bounty hunters.

“What happened? Both of your comms went out.” Bucky growled once he came in behind you, grabbing your forearm to study your wound.

“It’s just a graze. Chill your ass down. I lost my earpiece and Sharon’s broke.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, his voice low with warning. “What. Happened.”

“We rounded a corner, the guy was there. I shoved Sharon, he shot, she shot, I got hit, he’s now dead. Happy?”

“You promised.” He snapped, finger tightening on your arm. “You said you’d save yourself first.”

“Buck, let go.” Grabbing his wrist, you tugged a bit, wincing slightly. “Seriously. Stop. That hurts.”

He blinked, his features slacking and his fingers immediately dropping your arm. “Doll, I-I…fuck.” He turned to go punch through the back wall to get out of the unit you were in.

Before you could respond and tell him it was fine, the Baron himself drove up in a slick blue convertible. You groaned at Bucky’s response to Zemo. “We need him.” God, you were getting tired of hearing that.

“You’re lucky I don’t bash your head in.” You growled at him.

“If you try that shit again-”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Sam raised an eyebrow when Bucky got into the passenger’s seat with no hesitation, looking at you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but you shrugged and slipped into the back with Sam. Bucky and you always took the back seat. You had ever since the dumb little blue car Steve got.

You hugged Sharon in parting, knowing she couldn’t come with. “Hey.” She looked at you sternly. “Take a leap.”

“We’ll see.” You told her, sitting down and buckling.

“Do better than that, Y/L/N. And get me that pardon you promised me.” She told Sam, pointing at him..

“Thanks for everything.” She nodded, before jogging off in the opposite direction you’d be heading. Sam turned back to the front, an annoyed expression crossing his face. “You’re not gonna move your seat up, are you?”

“No.”

You snickered as Sam shot you a glare, Zemo starting to drive the car out of the shipping yard, away from the chaos.

****************

You collapsed onto the seat in front of Bucky, leaning onto the knee he had propped up against the back. He glanced up at you, face blank, before looking back down at his metal hand he was cleaning.

“Here. Let me see-”

“I got it.” He grumbled, shifting away from where your hands reached for his.

Your eyes widened, stunned at his reaction. “Bucky, just let me-”

“I said no, Y/N.” Your name. Again. You can’t remember him calling you ‘doll’ since before the shipping yard explosion.

“Are you okay?” He merely grunted. You straightened off his leg, swatting his knees with the back of your hand. “Hey.”

He shifted again, planting his feet on the floor. “Stop.”

“No.”

He shot you a warning glare. “Y/N-”

“Stop calling me that.”

“It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“What is wrong with you?” You scrunched up your features in confusion and concern. “Is this about my arm? I told you it’s fine.” You got no response except his eye flickering to your now properly bandaged shoulder. “Why are you acting so weird?”

He shrugged. “I’m not.”

You scoffed in disbelief, jaw dropping. “You’re not.”

“Nope.”

“Fine.” You stood up, brushing your legs off, the bare skin having splotches and smears of dirt and dust. “If you wanna be like that, go ahead. Brood. Be a child. When you’re ready to talk to me about whatever the hell is bothering you, like an adult, I’ll be in the back room.”

You only took two steps before he called out for you. “Doll.” You turned around, an expectant look on your features as you crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one foot. He looked up at you nervously, before looking down and picking at the metal plates of his hand. “I got scared.”

Your features softened, your head tilting gently. “Scared?”

“When you stopped talking. You and Sharon…you were talking. But both of your comms went down around the same time and I…it scared me. I-I don’t get scared anymore. Not the way I did when your voice stopped. I didn’t mean to hurt you…” His voice got quieter at the last sentence, his eyes looking to the purple handprint on your forearm.

“It was an accident, Buck.” You reassured him, settling back down in front of him. “It’s fine. You were still reeling it in from the bar. I know it’s hard for you to judge your strength like that. Steve had problems like that too.” You looked down at the rag he was holding, putting your hand out.

He licked his lips, before handing you the rag. You got off the couch to shift so you were sitting between his legs, his chest to your back. Holding his metallic hand between both of yours, you set to work, gingerly wiping away the grime, picking at the filth that wedged itself between the plates.

“He,” you chuckled, shaking your head at the moment you were remembering. “He accidentally gave me a concussion once when we were sparring. At first it was awesome; he got me my favorite take out and took me to the movies and all that. But then he just started getting annoying. Wouldn’t even let me reach for the TV remote on the coffee table a yard away.”

“Can I ask you something?” You hummed, tilting your head slightly when you felt his chin hooking on your shoulder, giving him more room. “How long did you love him?”

Freezing, you raised an eyebrow and turned to face him. “What?”

“You and Sharon. When you were talking…your comms were on.”

“How-” You swallowed thickly, a lump suddenly forming in the back of your throat. “How much did you hear?”

“Yours went out right after you admitted you were in love with him. Hers went out after you said you were just friends.”

Holding in a sigh of relief, you went back to cleaning his hand. “I don’t really know exactly when it happened. After the Battle of New York, maybe. So 2012, I guess? I dunno. I was getting up from falling for him, though. A few years later.”

“Was?”

“I - yeah. I kind of…fell again.”

He hummed, leaning back, taking his chin off your shoulder and unwinding his arm from your waist. “He’s an easy person to fall for. Hell, I’m pretty sure I had a crush on him once upon a time.”

You chuckled at that, raising an eyebrow over your shoulder at him. “I never said I fell for him again. But, yeah. You’re right.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “You like someone else?”

“It’s…complicated.”

“Oh…” He cleared his throat as you went back to his hand. “Uh…so you don’t still love him? Steve, I mean?”

“He was the first person I really loved, Bucky. A part of me will always love him.”

Bucky fingers twitched in your hold, the fingers on his other hand tapping against his thigh. “You know…he loved you too.”

You sighed, closing your eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“It’s true-”

“He left, James. If he loved me, why would he leave?”

You could feel his hesitation as his next words left his lips. “I-I dunno.” That was a lie. You could hear it in his voice. If there was one person Steve trusted more than you, it was Bucky. Of course he knew.

“Listen, I really don’t want to talk about this-”

“It’s in the notebook.” You bit your lip as Bucky shifted, pulling out the little notebook from his pocket. “He made lists - he liked lists. He made lists of things you said that made him laugh. Songs that reminded him of you. Little quirks you do that he noticed over the years. He missed you every time you went on a mission and prayed you’d get back safely.”

“James, please-”

“He didn’t want me to let you know. But I had to tell you. You have to know. He loved you.”

You let out a shaky breath as he placed the book on your thigh. You stared at it for a moment, before grabbing it and placing it in his left hand, closing his fingers around it and standing up. “I think…I’m gonna go rest for a bit in the back room. Holler if you need me.”

You didn’t wait for a response, moving quickly to the small back room of the plane which you got dressed in only a couple days ago. It only had one arm chair and instead of a door there was a curtain, but you were fine with that, plopping down in the chair and reclining.

Why? Why would he bring that up? Did he hear more than he said? Was he trying to let you down easy before you could even tell him how you felt? Did he get spooked after dancing? After the almost-kiss?

You never thought of Steve in the wrong. After all he’d done for the world in his life, he deserved to be selfish - to be happy. And Peggy gave him that. But why? Why would he leave if he loved you so dearly? If he really did what Bucky said? He wouldn’t. He’s not cruel. He wouldn’t up and leave, without even saying goodbye, knowing how deeply you loved him and feeling the same about you. This was Steven Grant Rogers for crying out loud! He wouldn’t…right?

But Bucky…he wouldn’t lie to you. He wouldn’t tell you that, especially knowing how much you missed the lovable blonde. And you knew his words held at least some truth. Actions spoke louder than words, and as something Bucky said repeated itself in your mind, you started slipping into a memory, your eyes shutting and your breaths evening out.

“He missed you every time you went on a mission and prayed you’d get back safely.”

The incessant knocking made you groan, shouting that you were coming and mumbling curses. You barely threw open the door before his worried voice hit your ears. “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“Stevie.” You sighed, rubbing your eyes and looking over at the clock on the wall. “Bubs…it’s two in the morning. I just got back, like, an hour ago.”

He shuffled, pink lips in a pout, eyes round and distressed. “I know, honey. I know. I’m sorry. But I heard you got hurt-”

You shook your head, a small giggle of amusement leaving your lips and you lifted your right hand, letting him see the black split holding your ring and pinky fingers. “I jammed my fingers in a door. The doc said I’ll be fully healed in a month at most.”

His eyes darted across your face and down your body, scanning for any more injuries. After glancing at your hands again, they finally landed on your eyes once more. Next thing you knew, you were being held against his chest, his face in the crook of your neck. You hummed softly, running your fingers down his spine, moving the two of you deeper into your apartment so you could shut the door.

“Don’t ever do that again. I gotta have faith in something and if you come home hurt, it’ll be crushed.”

Your eyebrows knit together. At his strange wording. “What’s that mean?”

“It means you have to promise me you’ll stay safe, honey.” He pulled back and held your face between his hands. “Please.”

“I can promise I’ll try my best.” You teased lightly, smiling at him and booping his nose, making him grin, although it was strained. “Why don’t you stay here tonight? We’ll turn on some TV in my room and you can keep me safe while I get much needed sleep.”

That made his grin relax into a real one, his head nodding in agreement. “Sounds perfect.”

“C’mon, bubs.” You took his hand, leading him to your room. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and you’ll catch some zzzz’s too.”

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

“What the hell was that?”

Bucky turned to Sam, who was gaping at him in utter disbelief, looking from the assassin to the doorway Y/N just walked through. “She needed to know.”

“Buck, she’s been dealing with some shit. And we both know something’s going on that she isn’t telling us. Her “zoning out” isn’t just zoning out, and we know that. She doesn’t need you confusing her even more.”

“Confusing her?”

Sam blinked, his troubled expression falling into a deadpan. “Are you fucking with me? No. There’s no way you’re that naive. Seriously?! Man, c’mon!”

Bucky scrunched up his face. “What?”

“She likes you, man! Everyone knows it!”

The brunette shook his head, forehead creased. “No. No, you heard her, Sam. She’s in love with Steve.”

“Was in love. As in past tense.”

“But-but she said- she likes someone else-”

“Barnes!” Sam threw his hands up, exasperated. “You are someone else!”

“I thought you two were already-”

Bucky pointed warningly at Zemo. “Watch it. Wait, wait-” He turned back to Sam. “But I heard her-”

“Bucky…man…” Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Listen, I can’t tell you everything. I’m not about to break my girl’s trust like that. But you gotta hear me when I tell you she likes you. What do you think almost happened at the party?”

“She - I - it was…an accident?”

Sam spluttered, eyes wide. “An accident? You two grinding and nearly making out was an accident?!”

“Woah! We were not…grinding-”

Zemo hummed. “Hmm…you kind of were.”

Bucky glared at him. “Thin. Fucking. Ice.” He whipped back to Sam. “I just remind her of him.”

“What?! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! You remind her of Steve? Yes, granted your both dumbasses, but she knows both of you enough to know there’s quite a few big differences.”

“Wilson-”

Sam held up his hand, shutting Bucky up. “You like her. Yes or no.”

Bucky huffed, looking down at the hand she was holding only minutes ago. “Yes.” He finally relented. “Since the first couple months in Wakanda.”

“Steve liked her. Yes or no.”

He ran a hand through his hair, nodding his head. “Yes. Yes he liked her. I wasn’t lying about that.”

“So explain something to me.” Sam crossed his arms. “Why is it that Steve isn’t here, and you are?”

Bucky crossed his arms, brooding - although he’d never admit it - while staring out the window. “Steve…knew. I liked her. And, yes, he loved her, but he also loved Peggy. So he…”

“He told you to take your chance with Y/N, and he went back to be with his first love.”

HYDRA’s former fist nodded with a sigh. “Something like that.”

“You need to tell her.”

“I can’t.”

Sam groaned. “Why not?!”

“Because!” Bucky took a breath, trying not to shout and alert the sleeping girl in the room over, his ears tuning into her slowed heartbeat to make sure she was okay. “Because Steve has her heart, Sam. The whole thing just…I’m jealous of him. Because he got her first. And then I get mad because he didn’t do shit about it. And then I feel guilty because all the shit he put up with for me and here I am complaining…and then I just get…depressed because he’s not here. I used to be the one who fixed his problems. But after I got out…he’s been the one fixing mine. And I just…I don’t know what to do.”

Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I get it. That’s valid. But stop whining and moping around about it. It happened. And you need to get your shit together. If not for your sake, for hers. Because she lost him too. And she’s probably feeling those exact same feelings.”

“But…she’s his girl-”

“No. She’s not. He made his choice.” Sam nodded towards Bucky. “Now you gotta make yours, Buckaroo.”

He shot him a glare. “You can’t call me that.”

“Why not? Y/N calls you that.”

“Y/N has a plan.”

“We both know that’s not true, Buckaroo. Hey! That one rhymed!”

Bucky shook his head with a scowl. “I will beat your ass, Wilson.”

Sam scoffed, shoving Bucky’s head playfully. “Stop being a dumbass and tell her. Buckaroo.”

“That’s it!”

Bucky tackled Sam to the ground, Zemo giving them an amused expression before leaving to talk to Oeznik. They were so wrapped up in their wrestling session, they didn’t notice the woman leaning against the wall, tired eyes barely opened as her eyebrows raised, unimpressed.

“Are you fellas done?’

They both stopped, shooting up when they noticed her. “Doll, I-”

She shook her head. “Don’t, Buck. Not right now. I’m just really tired.”

“Did we wake you?” Sam winced.

She shook her head again, yawning. “No. I just needed to use the restroom.”

Bucky couldn’t help the small smile as she rubbed her eyes, stretching her arms overhead, making that ripped crop top ride higher up. She was too cute. And she didn’t even realize it.

“Sleep well, doll. We’ll try to keep it down.”

She nodded, turning and waving over her shoulder. “You two try getting sleep, too, alright? Goodnight, Sammy.”

“Night, cher.”

“Sweetheart?” She peeked through the curtain, tilting her head slightly. “You know I love you, right?”

A small smile quirked up her lips, but it was sadder than the ones his question usually elicited. “As long as you know I love you.”

He nodded, returning the half-smile. “G’night, doll.”

“Goodnight, Buckaroo.”

2K notes · View notes

shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.”

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction.

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves.

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year.

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over.

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture.

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.”

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve.

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line.

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t.

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up.

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.”

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank.

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.”

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on.

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

��Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in.

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing.

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion.

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas.

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury.

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly.

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?”

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it.

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday.

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table.

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too.

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group.

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running.

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces.

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation.

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately.

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account.

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop.

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu.

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there.

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay.

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you.

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?”

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?”

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside.

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense.

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining.

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass.

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise.

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.”

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter.

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly.

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing.

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing.

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm.

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report.

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system.

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board.

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them.

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought.

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods.

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.”

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.”

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face.

He narrows his eyes at you.

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case.

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted.

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated.

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.”

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial.

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done.

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks.

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind.

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots.

There was no going back now.

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously.

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt.

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly.

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.”

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.”

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.”

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you.

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago.

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave.

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically.

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes.

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability.

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave.

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you.

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly.

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future.

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk.

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him.

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.”

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery.

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly.

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face.

His stomach does a flip.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him.

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?”

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice.

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off.

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.”

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator.

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing.

Gosh.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

1K notes · View notes