#sorry for the personal rant but we cope with humor in this house

[live-from-flaturn]

My EDS is flaring like never before. To the point that my pain is a solid 9 (from 1-10) and I am gasping every few breaths. We got home from visiting Boytoy's parents and I immediately took some of my Nuclear Option pain meds. As my dad the pharmacist refers to them.

However, while I wait for them to kick in, it feels like I'm being gently tased. Like my fingers keep curling up randomly from little electric zippies of Owch through my nervous system and my knees are locking/unlocking faster than a hacked 2023 Kia Sorrento.

To avoid having a breakdown, I'm just gonna pretend this is my Mafia anti-interrogation training. If you can't beat 'em, cope however possible.

[godofplumsandthunder]

Twisted Fate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Cancer, both Bucky and reader have cancer, Major Character death, brief hospital terms mainly reffering to cancer treatment. References to amputation.

A/N: This was written for the lovely @eurynome827​ 2k celebration. I got a lovely quote of lyrics from Hadestown, which I wanted to do something that was based off of the musical, but I couldn’t figure anything out. Then I had a big anniversary come up and this was came out instead. It’s very angsty, I cried a lot, and well I hope you like it.

The low, steady hum of the fan fills the awkward silence. The psychiatrist, newly assigned to the case, still doesn’t feel comfortable. “Case number 32557038” was widely known in the health care center. The whispers and rumors floated their way down the hall, past the copy machine, filling the office with this chilling tale. Some regarded it as a terrible series of bad luck, others thought it was an act of some benevolent God, pouring his rage on this poor couple. Dr. Breynord, after reading the notes on the file, Breynord knew that this case was perhaps the worst case of bad luck she ever saw in her career, and, maybe it was her stubbornness or naive belief in medicine, but Dr. Breynord was going to help this poor man get the peace he so desperately needs.

“James,” Dr. Breynord’s voice breaks the silence of the office, “I’ve read what my colleagues had to say about your case, but, I’d like you to tell me what has happened if you feel comfortable.”

Shifting in his seat, James sighs, with a small nod of the head, he starts at the beginning.

Bucky Barnes was used to change. Granted, it was other people’s change, but it was still change nonetheless. The poor folks that sat next to him each clinic visit changed, his caretakers changed, it seemed as if the whole world changed around him, while he was stuck in some perpetual hell. Every day dragged out in the same dull, and nauseating feeling, and at times, Bucky felt he was in an endless loop, forsaken by some deity he didn’t believe in. But, for however long Bucky has left in this fallen and cruel world, he’ll remember when you walked in, shattering the miserable purgatory he was banished to, he’ll always remember the day you changed his life.

It happened during his first transfusion session after his surgery. His arm, still wrapped in bandage, IV tubing leading straight to his heart, pumped his body full of liquids, as he waited for the toxic poison to enter his body. He always found it ironic, the “medicine” that was supposed to save his life, that was too dangerous for the nurses to touch with their bare hands, was willingly flushed into his body. Hair loss, mouth sores, and muscle aches were the better side effects. He can’t help but think about what is coming, especially as he sees his nurse, Thor, come over with the freshly made batch of poison [STRIKE THROUGH], chemotherapy as his doctor would want him to call it. Hanging the bag on his IV pole, Thor looks over at Bucky, giving him the “I’m going to go on a rant about something you should care about” look. 

“Now James, we’re getting a new patient today. It’s their first transfusion. They’re going to be sitting in the pod next to you. I swear to the gods, I best not hear another complaint about your attitude.”

“Me? An attitude? No, I think you got me confused with someone else. I’m the brightest little ball of sunshine here!” Bucky can’t help but chuckle. It’s not his fault he wasn’t a “warrior”, blasting “Fight Song” 24/7, as he sips on a kale smoothie with coffee suppositories shoved up his ass. T

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Barnes,” Thor shakes his head as he cleans up his station, “don’t think I won’t throw your bald ass out of here. That cancer sob story, won’t work on me.” 

Bucky goes back to his phone, already feeling the effects of the chemo. No matter how many anti-nausea meds they fed him, Cisplatin always makes him sick. So, he had the right to act like a grumpy old grandpa. While he scrolls through his social media feed, seeing all the accomplishments, brags, and just shit of his friends, Bucky hears your sniffles, as you make your way down to the end of the Oncology clinic, taking a seat next to Bucky. Even if Thor hadn’t given him the heads up, he would have known you were fresh meat. One infusion, his mom asked him how he could tell. It was easy for Bucky, it all had to do with the eyes. A cancer diagnosis shatters you. It kills all hope, light, and goodness that’s in you. You turn completely numb to the world, to the point where your own wailing and sobs feel muted. Bucky saw all of that in your eyes. Behind the puffy, redness, saw the shards of hope, the fear of the unknown. Before you could reach your seat, you stumble, spilling your possessions that you carried all over the floor. Bucky watches quietly as you quickly pick up your items, collapsing into the chair next to him. 

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a hand, only have the one,” he wiggles his stump, and he's met with silence. Talk about a rough crowd, he thinks, his nephews love his stumpy jokes. “So,” Bucky continues, “what are you in for? I’m a sarcoma, in the arm.” You sniffle as you turn your body to look at this new man.

“Leukemia,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper. It takes a real effort to say it out loud because then it makes all of this real.

“That’s good then,” the “sarcoma” man says to you, and Bucky can see the confusion, and pain on your face.

“How is that good? How is cancer good?”

Using his arm, Bucky points around the room, giving you a tour of the room.

“See him, that’s Riley, he has an inoperable brain tumor. That young kid, with the Switch? His name is Peter, his body is chemo resistant. So yeah, leukemia is good. If you haven’t learned it yet, not all cancers are made equal.”

“Oh,” you barely make out. What were you supposed to say to that? 

=====

Much to Bucky’s surprise, he actually enjoyed having your company. Your treatments lined up and so you both got to know each other well. Bucky enjoyed having someone close to his age that understood his problems. And it also didn’t hurt that you had such a great personality, you got Bucky’s dark humor (and it went without saying that you understood it was his way of coping), and you looked great. Not many people can rock a bald head. And Bucky has seen his fair share, and he can say with confidence, you rocked it. Not covering it up with caps, scarves, or wigs. Because why should you hide away? For the first time since his diagnosis, Bucky had a purpose. So, while his immune system allowed him to leave the house, he picked up a bouquet of fake flowers (neutropenia life, am I right?) and a box of chocolates to take with him to the next transfusion. When he got to the clinic, Bucky was a bit worried to see that you weren’t next to him. Instead, there sat Barb, 75 years old with breast cancer. 

“Oh sweetie, are those for me?” Barb looks at the flowers in Bucky’s hand. 

“No!” He snaps, as closes the curtain that surrounds his chair. He hears some huffs and complaints from Barb, but frankly, he doesn’t give a damn. Bucky only has one thing on his mind: you. 

“Are you alright? You’re not here at Club Med” Bucky texts as quickly as his one hand would let him. Dropping his phone, Bucky stares at it all while the nurses prep him. And because of damn, HIPAA, none of the nurses can tell him where you’re at. Minutes turn into hours, and by the time Bucky’s infusion ends, you still haven’t responded to him or shown up at the clinic. 

“Hope you’re okay. Call or text me. I'm worried” Bucky sighs, realizing how much you made his chemo treatments more bearable. How your laugh could make him forget of the poison he had to take, or how the light in your eyes could make him forget, even just for a bit, how much his arm stump was hurting. You were a drug, more potent than any he’s had before, and Bucky was becoming addicted. He’s picking at the hamburger he got for dinner, not having much of an appetite when his phone goes off. Seeing it’s from you, he rushes to answer. 

“Y/N! I… Where were you? I missed you today. I had to sit by Barb and…” The sounds of your cries cut Bucky off. 

“Are you okay?”

“No, Buck. I… Got some bad news today.” 

“Where are you?” He asks. He knows you’re alone, and speaking from experience, you never want to be alone when you get bad news. He knows from experience.

“Buck…” you sigh, “It’s fine. Really.” 

“Please, Y/N, I know what it’s like to be alone after getting this kind of news. Please, let me be there for you.” Breaking further down into tears, you cry at Bucky’s actions, actions of love. 

“I’ll send you my address,” Bucky gathers the flowers and chocolates as he rushes to your apartment, breaking a few traffic laws to get there faster. When he gets there, the image of you, opening the door, eyes swollen from crying breaks his heart. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Bucky sweeps you into his arm, as he closes the door behind, “tell me what’s going on hun.” 

You both sit on the couch, the bag with the flowers and chocolate lay at your feet, as you stay in Bucky’s embrace. 

“I’m… I’m dying Buck!” You manage to say in-between odds. “Dr. Fair... gave me three months to live. There’s nothing else they can do.” You break down in his arms, that last straw finally breaking, as you tell your newfound best friend, the person you were supposed to beat cancer with. Bucky tries his best to remain strong, to be the rock, the foundation you need, but you’re not the only one that is losing a friend. You sit in each other's embrace, as you mourn. You cry for all the missed opportunities, laughs, and memories that won’t be made. 

“What am I going to do,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from crying. 

Kissing your head, Bucky pulls you in closer, “we, are going to make these three months, the best three months you’ve ever had.”

Bucky lives up to his promise, spending every hour he isn’t in the hospital with you. The time you spent together changed your relationship. Neither had to officially say the words to make your relationship official. It was just you, and Bucky. Holding each other close, as the tempest waged on, trying to beat you into submission. You go on walks in the park, picnics, and one night when you both had the energy, went skinny dipping. Your logic being, what are the cops going to do? Arrest two cancer patients, with one of them being terminal? You threw caution to the wind and simply lived. Lived, breathed, and loved. Things seemed to be perfect until reality hit.

Your body wasn’t keeping up. Your cancer was spreading faster than they predicted. The doctors couldn’t give you an explanation as to why the cancer was spreading so fast. It shouldn’t have been. Soon, home hospice came, to try to make you more comfortable. And like the good partner he was, Bucky spent every minute by your side. That’s why, when you felt the inevitable coming, you felt your body give in to the tiredness of fighting, you grab Bucky’s hand. 

“I love you, James Bucky Barnes,” you weakly say, giving him one last affirmation, as you went to sleep, for one last time. 

As Bucky wakes up from his nap, feeling your cold body, he tries to ruse you back awake. Once he realizes what has happened, the last bit of humanity inside of Bucky snapped. He lets out a blood-curdling scream, as tears stream down his face. He strikes your face, pleas escape his mouth. Pleas to you, to a God he has long stopped believing in. His body shakes, his tears wetting your hair, as he holds you for one last time. 

=====

“Oh James,” Dr. Breynord grabs herself a tissue before handing Bucky the box of tissues. “I truly am so sorry to hear that. I want you to know that I am here to help you get happy again, and to heal.”

Bucky sighs and turns away from the doctor as he wipes his eyes. “You’re just like the rest of them. You didn’t listen to me.” 

Breynord was surprised that this was Bucky’s complaint. The other doctors had warned her that Bucky could be sarcastic, standoff-ish, and even flat-out rude to them. Breynord thought she did a good job listening to his story, what did she miss.

“I… I don’t think I understand what you mean, James.”

Bucky lets out a heartless, empty laugh, “you want me to be happy again. I’m never going to be. Not only do I have to live with the guilt of surviving, when she died, in my arms, but I’ll also never find another soul like hers. We had a connection, you know. It felt like we met before. When I held her in my arm, and her arms would wrap around me, it felt like I had the whole world in my arms. I didn’t need anything else when I had Y/N.” 

“So tell me doc, what’s the point of carrying on?”

[chaotically-cas]

The Outsiders x West Side Story

I think it’s important to start with saying that, while this is my favorite all time movie, the racism of it needs to be recognized before I continue. The whitewashing & brown face in the movie is absolutely disgusting both then & now. It is not something to support or condone. I’m just making the post because I cannot help but draw so many similarities.

Tw// fighting & sexual harassment (breif mention) & death & one breif mention of suicidal thoughts

Ponyboy as Baby John:

I think this goes way deeper than them both being the youngest & newest in the gang. First of all, in the first scenes of both movies it begins with Ponyboy and Baby John getting jumped my multiple people of the other gang, & his friends coming to back him up. And shortly after that in wss, when the gang is talking about the rumble, someone brings up what they should do if knifes and chains are brought into it. & Baby John says “Why don’t we just forget the whole thing?” Which is similar to Ponyboy’s ideals around fighting. Especially fighting with weapons. Additionally, Baby John is the most hesitant about the Jet’s rules and lifestyle. He often questions the whole point of it. This is very similar to Pony because he states many times his own hesitance around being a greaser and only being viewed as such. They both look at the world through naive and pessimistic thoughts. Additionally, they are both very sensitive. In wss Baby John is found by A-Rab (who I see as Two bit which I will touch on later) crying by himself. He didn’t want anyone to see him cry after his friends death, but yet he is. This is very similar to Ponyboy’s feelings after the fire. Especially when he is walking around town with Two bit. Pony doesn’t want Two to see his broken up and sick he is, but he sees it anyway. And lastly, when Baby John is chewed out by Action (which I see as Steve) A-Rab is there to stick up with him, along with other members of the gang. Even though the both of them are the youngest of the gang they have strong feelings to prove themselves and show up.

Steve as Action:

I definitely see Steve as Action. First the obvious needing pointing out, Action isn’t that much of a fan of Baby John and Steve feels the same about Pony. But on a deeper character analysis point: the both of action & Steve are fueled by their anger and rage. They show this anger in ways of fighting and violence. In WSS one of the first scenes sees Action fighting off 2 sharks, and early on in the book Ponyboy mentions how Steve fought of 4 soc’s such a bottle. This can show how both their anger comes out in extreme ways when fighting. Steve even breaking three (?) ribs. Later on in wss, Action is ranting about how upset he is and how angry he is. And how he just wants “bust” meaning he wants to fight as a release. And he is calmed down(ish) by Ice, who I see as Soda. This is very similar to the scene where Soda and Steve are arm wrestling in the Curtis house and they are discussing why they like fighting, and Pony realizes that Steve’s motivation for fighting is hatred. To add on, Actions character is heavily influenced by Tybalt from Romeo & Juliet, where many connections can be drawn to Steve as well. Steve isn’t in the book a whole lot which makes it a bit harder to pull connections but basically; I see the two of them as having very similar set offs and coping mechanisms as well as intelligence and loyalty. As Action is the first to step up when Tony dies, similar to the way Steve scolded two bit for his joke after Dally’s death.

Darry as Ice:

I think first thing is first. At first I was so into Ice as Soda but after a lot more research and character diving: I decided on Darry. Both Darry & Ice’s protectiveness and care other the other members of the gang. Ice helping to keep the gang cool after the death of Riff, and Darry helping Pony after he gets jumped. While all of the gang in the outsiders is described as a good fighter, Pony mentions that Darry hasn’t lost a fight, which is similar because Ice is canonically the best fighter. In the movie Darry is the one who steps up to be the first to fight and to basically be the ring leader of the fight. And Ice was the one to take on Bernardo in the rumble scene. I feel like Ice and Darry are one of the closest accurate comparisons personality wise because Ice is all hard emotionless, he keeps his cool, and so does Darry. Both of them are the level headed smart ones if the group. They keep the group in line and from making too many rash decisions. Additionally, (tw rape mention) Darry & Ice aren’t as much a part of the gangs other hi-jinx. Like Dal, Two, Johnny, & Pony are at the movies & Steve and Soda are at the DX, Darry is alone doing his thing. Similar to when the gang in wss attempted to rape or assault Anita, Ice was no where to be found. I think both Ice and Darry have a better sense or maturity & cool headedness when it comes to life, especially with the gang.

Dally as Riff:

Hear me out on this one too lol. First of all, there are heavy draws to be made with Mercutio, Riff, & Dal. Especially their deaths. But I’ll be focusing more on their lives. Both Riff and Dally aren’t afraid of violence & in some cases, welcome it. Riff encouraging the use of weapons in the rumble, & Dally showing up to the rumble in the first place. As tough and heartless as they both want to seem, their soft can be shown through Tony (who I see as Johnny). Riff, in fear that Tony will get hurt in the rumble with Bernardo, steps up and takes the fight for him. Which leads to his death. Both Riff and Dally are willing to die “for Johnny” and Tony, their best friends. Additionally, Riff’s protection of Tony can be seen in Dally when he offers to help Johnny after Johnny kills someone, like Tony kills Bernardo. Both these friendships have roots in Dally & Riffs home life. Riff’s home life is discussed heavily in “Dear Officer Kurpkee” and Dally’s from Pony’s perspective. They both grew up without much family and love and without much of a home of their own, which leads to their standoffish characters. Especially since Riff feels a thankfulness to Tony for housing him, can be symbolic of Johnny feeling like Dally’s personal home. Anyway. When Riff is picking on Anybody about being in the gang, it is very similar to the way Dal picks on Cherry in the beginning of the movie. Both these characters have an independence to them, where they want to think they don’t need anyone for anything. They both believe they are alone in the world. And for that they are angry, and not afraid to die.

Two Bit as A-Rab:

I feel like this goes without mention but both A-Rab and Two Bit are described and seen as the clowns and the comedians of the group. They like to make the gang laugh and poke fun at things. Also they are both very aggressive. Not quite as aggressive as Steve & Action but pretty aggressive. This is seen through Two Bit being so willing to jump into a fight anytime (the scene with the broken bottle). And it is seen in A-Rab through him wanting to fight and getting really worked up over the death of Riff. Although the bond between both A-Rab and baby John & Pony and Two Bit; there are a good bit of connections between the friendship. A-Rab is very protective over Baby John whereas Two Bit is protective but more of in a good friend way. They are both really good guys and friends beyond their comedy. Getting back into their humor; in the outsiders movie Two Bit is scene lifting a girls skirt as a prank, showing he finds humor in the inappropriate and dirty. A-Rab makes a similar type verbal joke when Anybody is talking about fighting and joining the gang. Again, Two Bit isn’t mentioned much in the book or movie which makes it a bit hard to draw many more comparisons.

Johnny as Tony:

I know what you are thinking lol, shouldnt Pony be Tony? He is the main character after all. Hear me out: Johnny and Tony are so much alike personality wise. In the beginning, Tony talks to Riff about why he left the gang, it is a similar conversation as the one between Pony & Johnny in the lot were Johnny expresses his suicidal thoughts. I think this also goes without being said but Tony is based on Romeo, and aside from the love plot you can truly see a lot of similarities between these three characters. The main ones being their hearts good intentions. Johnnys good intentions come out in him saving Ponyboy, wanting to turn himself in to the cops, and him trying to save the kids from the fire. Tony’s good intentions are shown very similarly through him trying to fight to save Riff, not wanting harmful weapons in the rumble, and wanting to resolve things with words. Another thing is the way both of there characters died with so much regret and unfinished business. For Tony his regret was Riff’s death and his unfinished business was Maria. For Johnny his unfinished business was not living and his regret was around the same. But in the end they were ok to lie down their lives in a  gallant way for what they believed in. Tony for the feud between the gangs to end, and Johnny for the lives of the kids he saved. 

& im so so sorry but I can’t seem to see Soda’s personality & morals lining up with any of the characters in WSS I’m sorry ahhh. I hope you enough this anyway!!

This was really really fun to write. It took a while but I’m pretty proud of it 🙈🙈

[shittyfandomimagines]

Always Fix It

This is sloppy. I’m tired. I don’t wanna work tomorrow.

GIF creds to owner

“Ahh, my favorite person!” Manny opened the door after I knocked. “What’s up!” I hug him and he kissed my head. “We’re just waiting on you and Shawn, who isn’t with you?” He seemed just as confused as I was.

“Yeah, I think he’s at the studio still, I just decided to come over here without him.” I put my jacket on the rack, Manny leading me to the dinner table.

“My girl!” Karen yells and I hug her tightly. “Where’s Ali?” I ask and they both give me a look. “Wanted to go out with friends, family time is annoying at this age.” Karen rolls her eyes and it makes me chuckle.

I absolutely love Shawn’s family, they let me come to their house when Shawn’s on tour, they constantly invite me out for supper, they check in on me at least once a week, I couldn’t ask for a better relationship with my fiancé’s family.

“Well, let’s sit down. Want anything to drink?” She asks and I hesitate before I sit down. “I’ll get a glass of water.” I turn and Manny stops me. “I got it!”

I smile warmly and sit down with Karen, Manny comes back soon with a glass of wine and water. I give my thanks before sipping on it slowly. The food on the table looked absolutely wonderful, roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, beans, rolls. I mean the whole shebang.

“It looks amazing Karen, sorry Shawn isn’t here yet.” I pout a little, I wasn’t surprised honestly. It’s been like that for weeks now and I don’t know how he wanted me to feel about it. Maybe it’s been months, I don’t know, I’ve just learned to cope with it.

“He’d show up late to his own funeral if he could.” Manny joked and I felt like it was Shawn here, I missed his sense of humor and dad jokes.

“How’s the planning going?”

“Oh you know, slowly but surely. Shawn’s been so busy, it’s kind of hard to come to an agreement.”

“He is helping, right? Don’t let him make you do it on your own.”

His mom's scolding was cute, but I still felt the need to lie for him. He didn’t help a bit on the wedding plans, even when I asked and I never realized how much I’ve done alone until now.

“He helps when he can!” I lie straight through my teeth and I see her give me a weary smile.

I look at my phone shortly, hoping Shawn had sent a message to my previous one asking if he’d show up. There was absolutely no response and it was not even seen.

“Y/n, tell us about your promotion! Your mom had mentioned it at work the other day.” I smiled at the friendship between both of our moms, it was amazing. It also helped that they worked together at a real estate company.

“I get to go to the firms and work with the lawyers now, instead of just sitting on the sidelines. I’ll most likely do paperwork or assistant type things, but it’s still the idea of sitting with the council. I finish law school soon so this is just perfect training.” I explain and Manny’s eyes widen.

“No way! That’s amazing hun! Is that why Shawn posted that picture at the club the other night? A good celebration?” He asks and my smile faltered. “Um, well no. He, he went out with his friends to celebrate the song they finished. I worked at the restaurant that night.” I explained and their faces fell too. Truth was that I didn’t even get the chance to tell him, he was so excited about that song that I didn’t want to try to outdo him on it. He had been in a lyrical bend for a week prior to that day.

“Well, you two got to celebrate right?”

“Not exactly, but it’s okay! I celebrated with my mom and dad, though. It’s nothing that big! I mean once I graduate law school, it’ll be a big deal.”

“That’s not right, you worked so hard to get moved up. We’ll throw a party for Shawn’s side. You deserve all the praise.”

—

“Well, it’s been 20 minutes, let’s dig in. No sense in the food getting cold.” Manny said and I made a small plate of food. The nerves of tonight made my appetite decline.

We all ate in almost silence, I had sent Shawn a few voicemails and texts. The knots in my stomach were mostly from overthinking a lot of things in my life.

I felt like everything had been downhill since the proposal, which sounded completely awful. I feel like he did it to just keep me at bay for a while, make sure I was content so he could stay in the studio. I had nothing against his music and I love it fully; but if there ever came a day to wed me or wed his music, I’d be afraid of the outcome.

He’s such a hard worker and I would never want to make him choose, but I feel like I’m a little baby and giving me a ring was like giving me a pacifier; it kept everything at bay with planning and I didn’t have time to realize his total absence.

I felt like I could vomit just at the thought, so I slowly halted my eating. “Everything okay?” Karen’s eyes danced with worry and I nodded quickly. “Ate too fast.” I lied. They tried to ignore it and I just continued to look down at my plate sadly.

My mind went back to what Manny said about the clubbing, my heart hurt that I didn’t even get the chance to tell him. I knew I couldn’t be mad at anyone but myself because I could tell him at any point, but my good heart just tells me to let him have his moment.

“I made your absolute favorite dessert, Peanut Butter Pie, with cookie crust because you hate pie shells!” Karen was thrilled and I smiled warmly. “You’re too good to me.” That wasn’t was a lie for sure; they were both gracious and wonderful.

I took a small bite of the pie, my heart was so happy to have them but my fear of losing them made my heart soar. All of the doubts I was having right now made me panic internally.

The thoughts of Shawn maybe not wanting me as a wife and only doing this to satisfy me made me worry.

The front door opened and my heart hoped it was Shawn for sanity sake, but it was his beautiful sister. “Y/n!” She came to my side to give me a hug.

“Where’s Shawn, he bailed again?” She groans and I felt tears spring to my eyes. I kept my head low as I nod. “Yeah, I guess he’s just so busy.”

I felt all of them staring at me, I didn’t want to let them see me bawl my eyes out, so I shot up quickly to hide in the bathroom.

—

After a good 5-8 minutes of crying softly, a knock was placed on the door of the downstairs bathroom. “Hey doll, it’s Karen. Can I come in?” She asks so sweetly, I turned the lock carefully.

“Sorry about that.” I wiped the tears off and sniffled loudly. “Hey, there’s no need to apologize to me. I raised two kids and I’ve seen plenty of tears.” She got on the floor with me, I felt awful about that.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong? Was it us?” She asks and I look at her scared eyes. “No way! Your family is beyond amazing to me and my family. I just feel a little bad today, no biggie.” I brush it off to make her feel better and she pouts.

“My son is the problem, talk to me so I won’t have to punish my grown man-child.”

“I’m just not enough for him, you know? I’m average, I work a crappy internship and at a small restaurant to feel validated to him. I’m overly clingy and my heart is too sweet to let someone I love know they’ve absolutely crushed me. I’m average looking, I could lose some weight and I’m actually trash. I don’t like all the fancy things like Shawn, I don’t really fit into his lifestyle. Honestly, he probably doesn’t even want to marry me! I mean it’s like there's a ring, please stay hopeful that I love you and try to plan a wedding for a superstar and his mid-average fiancé.” I was ranting and blabbering, my tears had resurfaced before I had the first sentence finished.

“You don’t mean that. There’s no way you could possibly not be enough for him. I remember the day he came home from your first date, the whole hour prior to leaving he hated that I set him up with a coworkers daughter. Then, he came home with those sparkly eyes and was talking to Manny about how unrealistic you were. How crazy that something that good could possibly show up in his hectic life. He told his dad that he couldn’t wait for the next second he got to spend with you.” She explains and I smile at the memory.

“Yeah, that was then though. I’m still below average and I really don’t fit in anymore. That boy is constantly changing and I don’t know if I can keep up with me being my boring self.”

“I thought the same with Manny, he was a business owner and I sold houses, I wasn’t that special. I was afraid I couldn’t keep up but it turns out a good team knows how someone has to carry the torch a little bit further ahead. Some days you’ll be at the same pace or there are other days where someone is the turtle. It isn’t about who is ahead or behind, it’s about how you cross the finish line together.”

“I understand what you mean, I just don’t know how to ever approach him. I lied earlier, Shawn doesn’t even know I got promoted. I was going to tell him but he was so happy to finally get a song done, I knew he was in a rut. I can’t even make him happy and I know music does, I knew I could’ve told him anytime after that but I thought it was dumb too because it’s insignificant to his happiness. I wouldn’t want to bore him.”

“He loves you, he would be happy to hear that you’re happy. He brags about you constantly, he even bragged when you made it through your first tattoo session. He loves you.”

“I guess, I can’t remember the last time he said it nor can I remember the last time he slept in bed with me. I mean I know he’s asleep in the house because he’s thinking of a song but I miss him. I can’t ask him to give up music, I’m not that important compared to that.”

I tried so hard not to sob my eyes out in front of my soon-to-be-mother in law. I really didn’t want to even talk to her about it because I shouldn’t load my drama onto her about her son. I should’ve just cried myself to sleep like any other Thursday night.

“The night before he proposed, he came over to show us the ring. He bought it somewhere in Italy months prior because he knew that was the ring he wanted on your finger. I know he’s an idiot sometimes, he’s my spawn so I can say it, but he does love you. Manny talked about me that way when we were dating, engaged, and still now. I know he’s a mess but he does love you.”

I give her a hug and pull back to grab some tissues off the counter. I wipe the rest of my tears off for the sake of Karen and I’s relationship. I was still hurting so bad because his mom was telling me this but not him. It’s held minimum value even though I loved her.

We both stood up and I had a weak smile. “I shouldn’t have even done that, I’m so sorry. I’ll see ya Karen, love you bye!” I zipped out of the bathroom and bolted to the door.

“Wait!” Ali’s voice stopped me and I turned to her worried face. “Are you and Shawn do? Is everything okay?” She asked quickly and my heart broke. I didn’t even think that far. “It’s all good sweet girl, I just need to go home. I love you okay?” I kiss her forehead, bid Manny goodbye, and made it back to my car before the 4th round of tears.

—-

I found my way to the old walkway behind our old apartment. It wasn’t as awkward as it sounded because behind our old apartment meant 2 miles down the road yet it was accessible somewhere close to the house. Not important. I walked up to the trail, the stars were shiny and the slightly red moon was beautiful.

My phone was buzzing off the hook; between my mom, Shawn’s mom, Ali, and then Shawn. I could only imagine that his mom went off on him.

Deciding to turn off my phone seemed to be the best bet for now. I know it’s hard to love in our generation, even more so when my love is displayed online. And between such a caring family. Therefore, it’s so much for satisfying to just breathe.

I hadn’t even noticed that an hour had passed, I just felt so at ease with the cool air and pretty sky. The tears were off and on but they weren’t as bad. I had to at least face Shawn, even if it was cliche, we never left things hostile or rough between us.

When I pulled up to the house, Shawn’s car was parked there and I could see all the lights on. I took a deep breath before unlocking the door.

“Y/n?” Shawn’s voice was traveling down the stairs as ran down them. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Where’ve you been? My mom told me something wasn’t right and she was concerned for us. Ali said she’s afraid you’re gonna leave, dad wants to murder me. Baby, please tell me what’s goin’ on.” He tried to take my hand and I pull it away, sticking them into my pockets.

“W-we need to talk.” I stutter out and I could see every ounce of fear soak through his body

He leads us to the dining room table and I see the flowers there, I try not to smile. “I picked them up before my mom yelled at me over the phone.”

“I’m not good enough for you.” I rip the bandaid right off and his eyes widen. “Are you insane? You’re more than enough.”

“I could probably never make you as happy as music or touring can. I don’t really have anything interesting about me anymore. I got promoted at work and the more I think about it, the more I realize that it isn’t that special.”

“Babe-“

“Wedding planning is very stressful. I don’t think you want to really marry me, I mean it’s not like you are right? I mean it was probably just a way to settle me down so you could work on music. Don’t get me wrong, I support you like I support eating chicken nuggets, but you don’t even help. I can’t remember the last time you said you loved me and I tell myself that you're busy with work so you don’t want to sleep with me, but maybe I’m just not something you want to wake up or fall asleep to anymore.”

“Can I plea-“

“I used to always be afraid that you would wake up one day and realize that I’m not enough. I-i think we both see that now. So I get it if you want to leave me, I’m not meant for your constantly changing lifestyle. I don’t like the same fancy things as you and maybe you’re meant to be with someone fully committed to the same things you love. I’m sorry.”

I had tears rushing down my face as I cried loudly, I didn’t even like to cry in front of him, but it didn’t help that he also had tears in his eyes.

“Baby, I love you more than I think anyone has ever loved something. I’m so sorry I neglected you and you are perfectly validated in my eyes. You never ever have to question if you’re enough because I’m the one questioning if I am. I literally don’t know how you love someone constantly on the move. You give so much of yourself to me and I could never thank you enough. I love you so much and I guess I never realized how absent I’ve been in our love.” He stopped his speech for a second to let out a very pained choke of air, I wanted to reach for his hand but it felt like mine weighed a thousand pounds.

“I wanted to marry you after our 3rd date. That sounds so silly but I wanted a ring on your finger for years now, but I knew I needed to wait when the time was right. I- I can’t believe I have made you think I didn’t love you or want to be with you solely for the reason that I get to be a family with you. It was never ever the reasoning you think, I did it solely because the love I feel for you couldn’t be contained to just a boyfriend. I’ll help you restart planning or help you find someone to plan it, whatever you want, I’ll do. You’re my fucking soulmate. I’m so sorry.”

He cried and never looked me in the eyes, I honestly have never seen him cry this hard. It didn’t matter how sad I was over our relationship, I couldn’t stand to see his pain this intensely.

“I didn’t lay with you because I didn’t want to wake you up, I knew how hard you’ve been working to get promoted at the firm, I didn’t want you being sleep deprived because of my constantly moving figure. Which by the way, I am so happy you’re promoted. You literally deserve it all because you are the hardest working woman I know. I wish you would’ve told me sooner. Oh God, I love waking up to you and id do some questionable things just to get to hold you at night. I could never love my music as much as I love you, music makes me happy but you make me live. You know me like the back of my hand, I could never possibly unlove you. I am so sorry, please understand.”

“I do understand and I should’ve come to you sooner, I’m just afraid Shawn. Always.”

“I am too, but I know there is no one else I’d rather face every tomorrow with. Can we call it a truce and let me make you a bowl of ice cream? I can put on Mulan and hold you.” He raised his eyebrows.

Nothing made my heart soar like that mischievous smile that also held so much love. “Fine, I could care less about anything m we watched or ate, I just want you.”

“So you don’t care about anything we get to eat?” He smirked

“You’re on thin ice buddy, thin ice.”

[mittel-schmerz-blog]

rad \m/

“We’ve determined that, really, the best way to move forward is--”

And the droning.

I look down at my shoes under the table: chunky black heels with a sharp toe perfect for scratching the blisters on my ankles. I track the hem of my dress, making sure it’s laying flat. I glance down at my left wrist, the slim watch, turning it slightly so that its curved, thin-glassed face is centered there.

I rapidly uncap and recap my pen, listening to the men in front of me bloviate on the same middling ideas they’ve been having for thirty years.

“So, essentially--”

And more droning.

Clucking my tongue reflexively, I roll my eyes around the room and count no fewer than six exasperated expressions. I’m not alone when I look at my watch again. The ever-presenting men at the front of the room proceed undaunted.

They don't realize it, but they’re hopelessly unpersuasive. Meetings like this, thick with silent disdain and discord, make me anxious.

I am powerfully compelled to fixate on details and allow myself to do so frequently. Constantly, really. Because I essentially exist in minutiae, the negligible negativities in everyday interactions hit hard.

I cannot handle the corner-lip-dip of disagreement. I know that a twitch does not indicate the first sign of a looming hatred; a face just drops when it disagrees. Intellectually, I understand this. And still, everyone in this room is frowning and I am feeling a simmering discomfort.

Basically: while I wish this boredom were benign, it is also accompanied by an indistinct sense of mortal dread.  

When I sense dissent, I change course quickly. Everyone is on board with my ideas by the end of a meeting. I am damn good; I can’t bear not to be.

But I cannot change the course of someone else’s presentation. I can fidget and I can imagine how they’re going to get torn apart in fourteen minutes during the debrief.

The five Mikes and I are convening at 3:30 PM sharp to rehash this abortion.

The smug superiority I’m feeling over the impotence of these men is one of the meaner strategies I use to cope with the aforementioned angst. I am the cat who ate the canary. But still, the fidgeting.

“Well...”

Mike #4, Punctual Mike, is interrupting the rant.

Even as I sit here in a fog of “strategies” and self-satisfaction, I am aware that the energy in the room is shifting. The five Mikes, the two Daves, and the three Bobs have all arrived, late, at my level of restlessness.

I will need to play good cop in short order. We need to communicate a firm no that feels like a soft yes. I’m the best at redirection, so this task usually falls to me. But today I’m feeling itchy.

The watch fiddling, the skirt twisting, the ankle scratching, the pen capping and uncapping. Click click click.

Silence.

I always worry that the constant motion is distracting but no one ever seems to notice it. At least, they’ve never said anything about it.

“Nat? What do you think?”

...

I look down at my toes, wiggling along with the commercial jingle playing softly on the radio in the other room and remember where I am. I try to process what I just, theoretically, heard him say. Because I didn’t really hear him, though, I decide to hedge my bets.

I say, “What are you trying to say, exactly?”

He looks at me and I realize that that thing is happening where he is an exceptional human being and I am being remarkably unexceptional by comparison.

He is always doing right things like: insisting we practice something called “Radical Mutual Affirmation” in addition to attending weekly boxing classes. Lou is an ex-yogi engaged in a lifelong search for something more primal. I am less than convinced of the value of literally fighting one another as a communication strategy.

He thinks it will help me learn to let things go. I think he’s just trying to tire me out.

I am always doing wrong things like: not being fully present in my day-to-day life and then instinctively defending myself against attacks that haven’t been made against me.

And the arguing.

He often wonders aloud, “I don’t know how you manage to make every molehill into a mountain and every mountain into Everest.” Even after knowing me for so long, he does not know that my capacity for fretting is infinite. I will never evolve so much that I forget the simple truth that there is always more to consider.

“I was saying, Natalie, that even though I don’t understand it, I kind of admire the way you care so much about everything; you are so deeply sensitive and thoughtful,” he repeats.

This time there’s definitely an edge to his voice that implies that I am being deeply sensitive and thoughtful at the worst possible moment. I cannot help but tune out when he tells me, again, that I’m perfect and should expend less energy on unproductive things like “self deprecating flights of fancy”. He would prefer it if, instead, I opted for fifteen minutes on the speed bag he installed in my bathroom for me last week.

Just because it’s in my house doesn’t mean I’m going to use it-- I don’t understand why he wouldn’t just buy me a stress ball. You can’t leave a conversation to “punch something in the other room real quick.”

So now I’m debating whether I should acknowledge that I wasn’t listening to him because I’m still reeling from a particularly heinous meeting or if it would be less destructive to tell him that I just misheard him and apologize. He did sort of mumble.

Especially when we are capital-T-Talking, I am supposed to be outside of my own head, but for me that is sometimes quite a captial-T-Tall order. If I tell him that I was, once again, somewhere else, it might just be the last thing I say to him. He thinks he is emotionally intelligent and he is, but not really.   

He’s understanding, but not enlightened. He’ll be angry if I tell him the truth.

“Sorry, I misheard you. I’m… I’m, glad you see it that way.”

He looks at me like he does sometimes and it makes me feel good even though I am not being honest.

The clock on the wall in the kitchen ticks on, finally.

...

“Well, I should probably go,” he says, pushing himself off of my lap.

I look at this person that I like so much and think he doesn’t know me at all. To be fair, maybe I don’t know him either. Maybe it’s the RMA, but I feel like all we do is talk at each other. Still, every once in awhile he says something I don’t expect and I feel like we really get each other.

But the relationship, on the whole, feels sparse and underdeveloped. All he wants me to be is my best self. And it feels like a churning, low-grade disapproval.

He says things like, “Natalie. You’re perfect. And you shouldn’t need me to tell you that the woman who called to conduct the survey on Cable Service Provider Satisfaction isn’t angry with you for hanging up on her. You’re brilliant.” But it always rings a little hollow.

I want him to find me fascinating but I think I just confuse him. We have all these fizzing, crackling conversations about the athlete-cum-intellectual-cum-fashion icon. But while he remembers Russell Westbrook as a frenetic basketball player with a fierce smirk; he thinks that I’m overstating it just a bit when I say that I remember him as a “revolutionary athletic genius”.

He remembers more stats than I do but he doesn’t care as much.

I don’t think he likes me as much as he likes trying to figure me out. Whatever the reason, for the last seven months we’ve been dating and even though it’s been highly unusual it’s been exhilarating.

But now, tonight, he’s quiet. Now, he is looking through me as I ask him, again, if he can’t stay.

I am desperate for him not to leave, to stay here talking to me for hours even if he’s just being nice to me as a matter of daily practice. I feel a creeping unease in the impending emptiness of the house.

The moment he leaves I will turn on talk radio.

“No.”

Turning around to face me, he looks at me as if I’m modestly amusing.

I say, tentatively, “It was great to see you today. I missed you.”

“Yeah, it was. We should watch the Grizz play on Wednesday.”

Sometimes when we watch basketball together he laughs and laughs and sometimes he gets quiet because I get too sucked in. But he always humors me as I parse every foul for subtext.

Sometimes I think I could stay with him forever, punching my way to a new me.

“Yeah! They’re playing the Bulls right?” I ask, adjusting my dress.

“Yeah.”

When Wednesday comes, he will not remember having asked me; he just needs something to say that will let him walk out my door. I imagine when he leaves he will feel an as yet inexplicable sense of relief. He is learning to be sensitive but is naturally impatient.

I get up from the couch to walk him out. Stretching, I glance at the digital clock on my cable box and wonder what will be on NPR at 9:58 PM.

As we’re walking out of the living room and towards the foyer, I feel my bare feet swish across the carpet.

Straddling the doorway, he says, “Just FYI, your skirt is caught in your underwear.” And laughs.