re: the muppets (part six)
Here's the next installment of my lengthy tome. Please click here for Parts One through Five.
After that night's stunning achievement, I was understandably concerned that she would have a change of heart the next day. But she didn't. Nor did I. We were officially a couple.
She told a few of her gay friends at school. I still told no one.
By this time, I had quit my job at the industry publication and was working as a nanny. The family was going to Virginia for the holidays so I had a solid week off. I called her up and asked if she'd like me to deliver her Christmas present in person. Judging from the amount of squealing she did on the phone, I took it as a yes and booked a flight to Tulsa.
I called her the night before my trip to give her my flight details.
It was a tactic I had begun applying to all situations in my real life. The less I said, the better. I performed the bare minimum of routine maintenance on existing friendships and all but gave up on developing new ones. As open, vibrant and alive as I was with her, I was that much more isolated and closed off in real life. No one understood me like she did and I cut off all opportunities for anyone else to even try.
I stared out the window as the plane made its ascent after take-off. I grew up in the flight path of Newark Airport so the plane passed over my high school, my grammar school, my church and finally, my house. That's when my lip started to quiver. I closed my eyes to trap the tears. I wished my parents a silent goodbye as well as an apology. I was well on my way to a new life, one that would crush and devastate them if they ever found out.
I had a 50-minute stop-over in Houston. Every television in that airport was tuned to football so I couldn't rely on the boob tube for a pleasant distraction. I mindlessly thumbed through a USA Today but trying to read was useless. I was completely preoccupied with one thought that played over and over in my head:
When boarding for the Tulsa connection was announced, I literally wobbled onto the plane. I suddenly had less stability in my legs than the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz.
I was seated next to the middle teenager in a large family of brash Texans who were scattered about the plane. Her parents were sitting right behind us. When I took my seat next to the young girl, her father tapped me on the shoulder. His appearance just screamed Texas. He was built like a linebacker. He wore a tan corduroy sports jacket, had red apple cheeks and neatly-groomed salt-and-pepper hair with a side part. His voice was deep and his laugh wheezy. He reminded me a bit of Hoyt Axton.
Of course the terror REALLY set in as the plane taxied up to the gate. My hands shook violently as I tried to remove my carry-on from the overhead compartment. I tried my best to do rhythmic, controlled breathing as the line inched forward towards the jetway.
I had visualized many times in my head how my arrival would play out. I tried prepping and training myself to be cool and in control. But my mind went completely blank when I emerged and saw her leaning up against the wall. In retrospect, our actual greeting borrowed bits and pieces from each and every one of my imagined scenarios. There was a deep smothering hug, trembling hands and gasping whispers in each other's ear. I lost count of how many times we said, "Oh my God. I can't believe you're/I'm here."
Our concerns about nerves were warranted. I was shuddering, as was she. We were super spazzy while waiting for my suitcase at baggage claim. I could only look at her when she wasn't looking at me. When she'd turn to meet my gaze, I got embarrassed and looked down. When I'd recover, it was then her turn to become overwhelmed. We traded off on the tard-like behavior for several minutes. But then I took a step closer and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her, clutched her hand and gave it a squeeze. And then, as if on cue, my suitcase slid down the chute. It was time to go home.
It was about a 15-minute car ride from the airport to her house. I had never been to Oklahoma so I took in the scenery... and then a thought occurred as I surveyed the flat, wide-open land:
The first member of her family to greet me was the dog. We fell instantly in love. I was then introduced to the cat. No bond was forged. I kind of just waved at her because I'm not too keen on the felines to begin with and that one had the reputation for being a right bitch. I have no regrets about not winning her over.
Me and the dog though, we had a special understanding. I even brought her a gift -- a hamburger-shaped squeak toy. The dog was a bit of a chicken so she was afraid of the squeaky noise it made. Despite the trauma I inadvertently caused her, I think she appreciated the sentiment just the same.
The house was pretty much empty the day I arrived because her parents were away on business and her younger brother was painfully shy and spent most of his time in his room. We were both grateful for and petrified by the privacy.
After getting the grand tour, we hung out in the living room. I sat on the ottoman on one side and she sat on the couch on the other. The space between us was ridiculous. I could sense her silently pleading with me to do something to fix it. I was scared out of my wits but after a few moments of staring at each other and smiling shyly, I prompted the thaw. I walked over to the couch and said, "Scooch."
We started to slowly get acquainted... and then the phone rang. It was her lesbian friend from school.
She took her seat next to me and once again, we tried to achieve that state of comfort we forged over telephone lines and in cyberspace. After one more phone interruption, she was annoyed and frustrated enough to take charge and issue the order, "Come here. Lie down next to me," as she reclined on the couch. There was no more time for shyness.
The couch was wide enough so that we could lay face-to-face. We looked at each other a long time and just drank each other in. She took my hand in hers and rubbed it against her cheek. After a few testing-the-waters kisses to her forehead and cheeks, I went for broke and finally, at long last, gave her the kiss I had been saving up for almost two years.
I know it's a cliche but right then and there, a dream came true. "I can't believe this is happening," I breathed. She responded with an intense kiss that was more magical than I had ever imagined.
The shyness was completely gone. The lack of eye contact was replaced by an inability to look away. Our hands rarely parted. If we had to be discreet, we touched in some other way. Our determination to hold on trumped all comers in Hands on a Hardbody. We just couldn't let go.
When we'd fall asleep, we slept deeply and peacefully. No worries or cares in the world. Finally, we were able to cradle each other and connect on all levels.
Her family was amazing. If they were at all skeptical of this intruder six years older than their beloved girl, they didn't let on. Instead, they opened up their home and their arms to me completely. I felt guilty deceiving them, and my own family as well, but I rationalized our secrecy as just buying time. Winning her heart was my first dream realized, gaining acceptance from our families was next on the list.
We spent an afternoon at her grandparents' house making Lebanese spinach pies. Her grandparents were Episcopalian. The statue of St. Francis in the front yard wore a Santa hat. The entire house was tastefully overrun with Christmas knick-knacks. I got the fright of my life when I went into the bathroom and a Christmas tree on the toilet came to life and sang, "Rocking Around the Christmas Tree." Good thing I was already on the bowl or I would have peed my jeans.
I heard her grandmother's lilting giggle just outside the bathroom door. She had been waiting there in giddy anticipation of my reaction to her tchatke. My audible gasp (and tinkle) did not disappoint.
Her grandmother was short and doughy. Her diminutive stature and soft voice reminded me of Mrs. Whipple on Little House on the Prairie. She took a real shine to me. The adoration was mutual.
I also met her best friend the day after I arrived. Bit by bit, the people in her life came into focus. And they at last had a face to put with my name and mystique. Events were planned around my arrival. People were anxious to meet me. In her world, I was the furthest thing from the quiet, forgettable girl I was at home.
I left on December 23 so that I could spend Christmas with my own family. A week never went so fast as this one. We moved sluggishly the morning and afternoon of my departure in an unsuccessful attempt to slow down time.
We arrived at the airport a bit early so she sat with me at the gate. She rested her head on my shoulder, clutched my hand and played with my fingers. Normally I craved her touch but I felt uncomfortable in public. I felt like all eyes were on us. I stiffened up and grew quiet.
Finally it was time to board. She shuffled along with me on the ticket line until she could go no further. It was now my turn. Time was up. I collected her in my arms and kissed her on the forehead. We exchanged I love yous and I walked quickly onto the plane, refusing to look back. I knew I'd lose it if I did. I did not want to leave. I actually weighed the possibility of running off the plane and staying in Tulsa... Until thoughts of my family, friends and my job back home slapped me across the face. Reality did in fact bite.
I had a window seat on the left side of the plane so I could see the area around the gate where I had just left her. The reflection on the glass made it hard to see inside but I knew she was watching. I couldn't take my eyes off the airport window even as my vision blurred when the tears started. Lots of them. An unending stream ran down my face. The man sitting next to me looked at me sympathetically as I mopped them up. A pile of saturated tissues collected in my lap.
She stood in the airport pressed up against the window crying in the same fashion. She watched the plane take off and refused to leave until it was nothing more than a barely visible speck among the clouds.
>> Go to Part Seven
-- Part One
-- Part Two
-- Part Three
-- Part Four
-- Part Five
~ Part Six~
After that night's stunning achievement, I was understandably concerned that she would have a change of heart the next day. But she didn't. Nor did I. We were officially a couple.
She told a few of her gay friends at school. I still told no one.
By this time, I had quit my job at the industry publication and was working as a nanny. The family was going to Virginia for the holidays so I had a solid week off. I called her up and asked if she'd like me to deliver her Christmas present in person. Judging from the amount of squealing she did on the phone, I took it as a yes and booked a flight to Tulsa.
I called her the night before my trip to give her my flight details.
"I'm scared."My brother-in-law dropped me off at Newark Airport the next morning. I was relieved that he was given the assignment because I didn't want to spend any more time with my parents leading up to this trip. Time together meant conversation and conversation meant lies. I was already walking through a minefield of tall tales, half-truths and outward deceit. Even the smallest of details was connected to an elaborate and complex system of falsehoods. One wrong move and I was done for.
"Me too."
"What if we act all nervous around each other?"
"Well, we have almost a full week to figure it out. I'm sure we'll be fine... Right?"
"This is ridiculous. It's you and me, Curly. We shouldn't feel this way."
"I know but it's completely understandable for us to be nervous at first. Let's allow ourselves to be. It's normal. This is a very different visit, you know?"
"I know but I don't want to be scared of you."
"If you're freaking out when I step off the plane, just know that I am too, okay? But it's just me. You know ME. If you're finding it hard to say something, just squeeze my hand. I'll know."
"Okay. Oh my God. I can't believe I'm going to see you tomorrow!"
It was a tactic I had begun applying to all situations in my real life. The less I said, the better. I performed the bare minimum of routine maintenance on existing friendships and all but gave up on developing new ones. As open, vibrant and alive as I was with her, I was that much more isolated and closed off in real life. No one understood me like she did and I cut off all opportunities for anyone else to even try.
I stared out the window as the plane made its ascent after take-off. I grew up in the flight path of Newark Airport so the plane passed over my high school, my grammar school, my church and finally, my house. That's when my lip started to quiver. I closed my eyes to trap the tears. I wished my parents a silent goodbye as well as an apology. I was well on my way to a new life, one that would crush and devastate them if they ever found out.
I had a 50-minute stop-over in Houston. Every television in that airport was tuned to football so I couldn't rely on the boob tube for a pleasant distraction. I mindlessly thumbed through a USA Today but trying to read was useless. I was completely preoccupied with one thought that played over and over in my head:
Oh my God. You're going to kiss a girl today. Oh my God. You're going to kiss a girl today. Oh my God. You're going to kiss a girl today...I was conservative with the proposed agenda because I would have really freaked out otherwise. Besides, I'm far too much of a blusher to let my thoughts wander beyond first base.
When boarding for the Tulsa connection was announced, I literally wobbled onto the plane. I suddenly had less stability in my legs than the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz.
I was seated next to the middle teenager in a large family of brash Texans who were scattered about the plane. Her parents were sitting right behind us. When I took my seat next to the young girl, her father tapped me on the shoulder. His appearance just screamed Texas. He was built like a linebacker. He wore a tan corduroy sports jacket, had red apple cheeks and neatly-groomed salt-and-pepper hair with a side part. His voice was deep and his laugh wheezy. He reminded me a bit of Hoyt Axton.
"She likes to listen to her crazy music real loud. Don't you be afraid to tell her to turn that down. Drives us all crazy with that music of hers."It was a warning that girl had no doubt heard countless times before but the look of murderous rage she cast in father's direction was completely fresh. I looked at her and smiled and then took out my headphones in a show of solidarity.
"It's okay. We're cool."Her father chuckled and then directed his teasing at another member of his brood. That exchange somehow managed to distract me from my panic during the short hop from Houston to Tulsa.
Of course the terror REALLY set in as the plane taxied up to the gate. My hands shook violently as I tried to remove my carry-on from the overhead compartment. I tried my best to do rhythmic, controlled breathing as the line inched forward towards the jetway.
I had visualized many times in my head how my arrival would play out. I tried prepping and training myself to be cool and in control. But my mind went completely blank when I emerged and saw her leaning up against the wall. In retrospect, our actual greeting borrowed bits and pieces from each and every one of my imagined scenarios. There was a deep smothering hug, trembling hands and gasping whispers in each other's ear. I lost count of how many times we said, "Oh my God. I can't believe you're/I'm here."
Our concerns about nerves were warranted. I was shuddering, as was she. We were super spazzy while waiting for my suitcase at baggage claim. I could only look at her when she wasn't looking at me. When she'd turn to meet my gaze, I got embarrassed and looked down. When I'd recover, it was then her turn to become overwhelmed. We traded off on the tard-like behavior for several minutes. But then I took a step closer and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her, clutched her hand and gave it a squeeze. And then, as if on cue, my suitcase slid down the chute. It was time to go home.
It was about a 15-minute car ride from the airport to her house. I had never been to Oklahoma so I took in the scenery... and then a thought occurred as I surveyed the flat, wide-open land:
"Um, is there like a tornado season or can one, you know, just spring up out of nowhere?"She smiled at the look of concern on my face and gave me a brief tutorial on when tornadoes traditionally strike (not December, phew!) I then followed up with questions about storm cellars, the effectiveness of standing in doorways for protection and her opinion of Helen Hunt's performance in Twister. In case you're wondering, Helen left no real impression. I concurred.
The first member of her family to greet me was the dog. We fell instantly in love. I was then introduced to the cat. No bond was forged. I kind of just waved at her because I'm not too keen on the felines to begin with and that one had the reputation for being a right bitch. I have no regrets about not winning her over.
Me and the dog though, we had a special understanding. I even brought her a gift -- a hamburger-shaped squeak toy. The dog was a bit of a chicken so she was afraid of the squeaky noise it made. Despite the trauma I inadvertently caused her, I think she appreciated the sentiment just the same.
The house was pretty much empty the day I arrived because her parents were away on business and her younger brother was painfully shy and spent most of his time in his room. We were both grateful for and petrified by the privacy.
After getting the grand tour, we hung out in the living room. I sat on the ottoman on one side and she sat on the couch on the other. The space between us was ridiculous. I could sense her silently pleading with me to do something to fix it. I was scared out of my wits but after a few moments of staring at each other and smiling shyly, I prompted the thaw. I walked over to the couch and said, "Scooch."
We started to slowly get acquainted... and then the phone rang. It was her lesbian friend from school.
"Hello?... Oh hi. [She mouthed "It's Lesbian Friend from School" while rolling her eyes.]... Yes, she's here... A little while ago... No, not yet... 'Cause she just got here!... I have to go. I'll call you later... Okay, bye."I giggled at Lesbian Friend from School's nosiness and was pleased with my girlfriend's eagerness to get off the phone and return to the couch.
She took her seat next to me and once again, we tried to achieve that state of comfort we forged over telephone lines and in cyberspace. After one more phone interruption, she was annoyed and frustrated enough to take charge and issue the order, "Come here. Lie down next to me," as she reclined on the couch. There was no more time for shyness.
The couch was wide enough so that we could lay face-to-face. We looked at each other a long time and just drank each other in. She took my hand in hers and rubbed it against her cheek. After a few testing-the-waters kisses to her forehead and cheeks, I went for broke and finally, at long last, gave her the kiss I had been saving up for almost two years.
I know it's a cliche but right then and there, a dream came true. "I can't believe this is happening," I breathed. She responded with an intense kiss that was more magical than I had ever imagined.
The shyness was completely gone. The lack of eye contact was replaced by an inability to look away. Our hands rarely parted. If we had to be discreet, we touched in some other way. Our determination to hold on trumped all comers in Hands on a Hardbody. We just couldn't let go.
When we'd fall asleep, we slept deeply and peacefully. No worries or cares in the world. Finally, we were able to cradle each other and connect on all levels.
Her family was amazing. If they were at all skeptical of this intruder six years older than their beloved girl, they didn't let on. Instead, they opened up their home and their arms to me completely. I felt guilty deceiving them, and my own family as well, but I rationalized our secrecy as just buying time. Winning her heart was my first dream realized, gaining acceptance from our families was next on the list.
We spent an afternoon at her grandparents' house making Lebanese spinach pies. Her grandparents were Episcopalian. The statue of St. Francis in the front yard wore a Santa hat. The entire house was tastefully overrun with Christmas knick-knacks. I got the fright of my life when I went into the bathroom and a Christmas tree on the toilet came to life and sang, "Rocking Around the Christmas Tree." Good thing I was already on the bowl or I would have peed my jeans.
I heard her grandmother's lilting giggle just outside the bathroom door. She had been waiting there in giddy anticipation of my reaction to her tchatke. My audible gasp (and tinkle) did not disappoint.
Her grandmother was short and doughy. Her diminutive stature and soft voice reminded me of Mrs. Whipple on Little House on the Prairie. She took a real shine to me. The adoration was mutual.
"Now, Curly, will you be back to visit us soon? Maybe you can come back in the summer?"I spoke a little louder assuming her hearing was on its way out,
"I would love to but I can't. I'm going to Florida in the spring and that's going to eat up all of my vacation time."
"I'm sorry, dear. Where?"
"Florida! I'm going in May!"She still looked perplexed. And then I realized that my New York tri-state-area pronunciation of "FLAH-rida" was throwing her off. I switched it to the more universal (and totally unnatural for me) "FLOOR-ida" and it finally registered.
"That's too bad. We'd love to have you again."We drove to Springfield, Missouri one afternoon to meet her friends from college. They knew of our friendship but not the details. But they were intrigued by the amount of time their dear friend devoted to me and wanted to meet me in person. We had lunch at a Mexican restaurant that reportedly was the establishment of choice when local boy Brad Pitt was in town and wanted him some chimichangas. Those college friends would later become invaluable allies.
I also met her best friend the day after I arrived. Bit by bit, the people in her life came into focus. And they at last had a face to put with my name and mystique. Events were planned around my arrival. People were anxious to meet me. In her world, I was the furthest thing from the quiet, forgettable girl I was at home.
I left on December 23 so that I could spend Christmas with my own family. A week never went so fast as this one. We moved sluggishly the morning and afternoon of my departure in an unsuccessful attempt to slow down time.
We arrived at the airport a bit early so she sat with me at the gate. She rested her head on my shoulder, clutched my hand and played with my fingers. Normally I craved her touch but I felt uncomfortable in public. I felt like all eyes were on us. I stiffened up and grew quiet.
"What's the matter? Are you nervous about flying?"To this day I hate that I spent my last few minutes of that trip feeling self-conscious and silently willing her to stop touching me.
"Yeah, I hate it," I lied.
"Don't be scared," she said gently as she stepped up her displays of affection in an effort to make feel safe.
Finally it was time to board. She shuffled along with me on the ticket line until she could go no further. It was now my turn. Time was up. I collected her in my arms and kissed her on the forehead. We exchanged I love yous and I walked quickly onto the plane, refusing to look back. I knew I'd lose it if I did. I did not want to leave. I actually weighed the possibility of running off the plane and staying in Tulsa... Until thoughts of my family, friends and my job back home slapped me across the face. Reality did in fact bite.
I had a window seat on the left side of the plane so I could see the area around the gate where I had just left her. The reflection on the glass made it hard to see inside but I knew she was watching. I couldn't take my eyes off the airport window even as my vision blurred when the tears started. Lots of them. An unending stream ran down my face. The man sitting next to me looked at me sympathetically as I mopped them up. A pile of saturated tissues collected in my lap.
She stood in the airport pressed up against the window crying in the same fashion. She watched the plane take off and refused to leave until it was nothing more than a barely visible speck among the clouds.
>> Go to Part Seven
-- Part One
-- Part Two
-- Part Three
-- Part Four
-- Part Five
posted by curly mcdimple @ 3:20 PM :: permalink :: ::
