Tuesday Into Wednesday

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• August 9, 2015

Technically, it was Wednesday morning. 1 am.  I waited for my train at Times Square to Queens.  Sure I had to be up again in six hours, but I had a buzz, and Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises, so I felt alright.

It was the best I’d felt all day.  I had been feeling pretty low.  It’s hard to put my finger on why, other than the usual mania swinging from low to high, high to low.   After work, I tried to write, but nothing worth reading twice came out of my mind and onto paper.  I gave up.  Went to the park.  Sprawled out on a bench and read my book. I was reading for the better part of an hour, and felt quite peaceful.

A butterfly landed on my floral shirt.  The shirt, I thought, was a bit too girly for my taste.  The butterfly landed just below my breast, with it’s black and blue wings.  I watched it for a moment, then I gently stroked it’s wing four or five times.  I went back to my book, and the butterfly flew off, going back to whatever it is butterflies do, besides land on things and being one of the few bugs humans don’t shriek at.

I went to two shows after that.  After the second show, I had a couple drinks with comics.  It was a swell time, and I wanted to stay, but I needed sleep.  Even though I was feeling alright, I need to obey my rules to keep my sanity.  Make sure you get enough sleep, is a very important rule, and I have been struggling with it lately.

1 am.  Times Square.  I get on the N train, Hemingway in hand.  Before I even sit down,  I realize every one is ignoring someone yelling.  A mother yelling at her daughter, who’s maybe seven or eight.  Her brother is seated next to the mother.  The little girl stands there, quietly facing her mother.  The mother is yelling at the daughter, “get the fuck away from me!  Don’t fucking look at me!”

The mother didn’t seem sober, and the child didn’t seem like she was misbehaving.  I didn’t know what I had walked into, but when it’s one in the morning, you can’t help but question why a mother has her two young kids on the subway.

I made eye contact with the woman sitting across from me.  She was about to cry. I held her gaze for a long time.  You’d never stare at someone that long, unless you were trying to fuck them.  Even though I am not a mother, there is some sort of maternal instinct which most women possess.  I didn’t need her to say anything.  She looked at me and I knew, whatever was happening was unjust.  The little girl was not in the wrong.

I look back to the little girl.  Neither kid made a sound.  The boy was struggling to keep his eyes open.  The girl approaches her mom, and puts her hand on her mothers’ knee.  Slowly, she reaches out to hold her mother’s hand, and the mother pulls her hand away.

You know when someone uses their teeth to open a bag of chips, then rips the whole bag to shreds, making a mess as chips fly everywhere?  That’s how my heart felt.  Not broken, no.  My heart was shredded.  I felt dizzy.  I thought I was going to be physically sick.  I fought the urge to vomit.  It probably didn’t help that all I had for dinner was a few drinks.

I looked up at the woman across from me.  Her eyes were red from holding back her tears.  The only thing I wanted more than a hug from the woman, was to hug the child.

The mother got off the subway, her two exhausted children trailing behind.  I watched the teary eyed woman watch them go.  I thought she was going to cry but she didn’t.  She met my glance again, and held it.  She shrugged, as if to say, “there’s nothing we could do.”

I looked to floor.  I suppose she was right.  What were we to do?  No one in my life has ever spoken to me that way, let alone my mom.  I’d rather see a homeless guy jacking off every day of my stupid life on the subway than what I just witnessed.

When I finally get off at my stop,  I started crying, and cried the whole way to my apartment.  When I got home, I didn’t feel like eating anything, so I showered, and went straight to bed.  I watched the ceiling and waited for sleep to come the way a desperate single awaits a lover in a bar… you know once it comes it’s not going to be good, but you want it anyway.

I had a dream my friend rented a beach house, and I went there to visit.  The shower at said beach house teleported you to another dimension.  This dimension looked just like ours, but there were no people.  Just monsters.  The monsters acted like people.  They had jobs, and rode bikes, and had families.  Some were dicks.  Some were cool.  We befriended two of them, and shower-teleported them to the beach with us.  My friend decided she was going to stay there indefinitely, in the other dimension.  She asked if I wanted to go too, and I was about to until I met this cute guy at the beach, and I decided I wanted to pursue him.  My friend was pregnant with a monster/human baby, which was a bit repulsive to me.  These monsters resembled the “Where The Wild Things Are,” beasts: large, furry, sharp teeth.  They weren’t cute, and definitely not sexy.  I guess nine months doesn’t apply for their species because the baby was born almost immediately.  Then, the beach house was attacked.  This SWAT team, government agency wanted the baby. They were armed in black gear with automatic guns.  The dad monster fought them, but died.  My friend handed me the baby.  It was hideous.  It was green, and wrinkly.  It had yellow eyes and pink hair.  Frightening looking, like a little troll.  But she loved it.  It was her child.  So I promised I’d protect it, no matter what.

The alarm clock woke me.  To be honest, I didn’t mind.  By noon I my appetite had returned.