ruby

March 18, 2011

Its been 962 days. You’d think I cook better. Not as if I cook badly. Its just that she’s much better at it. That witch Charles sent me to told me to write and the best damn thing I can think of to say is how bad a cook I am. What the hell am I even suposed to write in these things? You want me to write about my felings? You want me to write out my damn feelings as if this is suposed to make every thing better? As if it take everything away? Just like that? Bad evough that I have to use the damn computer. Damn tecnology never makes sense to me. Confusing as hell.

March 25, 2011

What am I supposed to talk about my day? Its the same everyday. The alarm wakes me up at 6. I take my pills with the water I leave on the stand because my joints ache most in the mornings, I can hardly make it downstairs. I eat brekfast, I read the paper, I go to the store, I come home, I watch those god aweful programs of hers, I eat dinner, I watch the news, I take my pills, I go to bed. So theres my day. Sounds like a grand old time right sweetie?

April 1, 2011

Went to that witch again today. She wants me to write more often. I wonder if she’ll ever even read this? Went to the store. Saw a gorgeous woman there. She was wearing a yellow dress and she was wearing her hair in a way that made me think of the good old days. I smiled at her, and asked her about her outfit and she gave me the bird. Women became so volger. The ladies back in my day were smart and elagant. What hapened to them now?

April 10, 2011

Jason and the kids came over today. Lillian was at a checkup with little Janey, so Jason dropped off the kids here while he went to work. So that’s something new. They was playing on the growd with the little plastic toys she kepped in an old peanut butter jar for whenever they came round. Liza loves the spotted puppy one and Jack’s favorite is the chicken. I don’t know why because is looks like it’s a deformed donkey. But he doesn’t go for the donkey, he goes for the chicken. Well they like to go out in the dining room with the stone wall and pretend there toys are going on adventures. Its cute but can get a little noisy. I just turn on the ball game and talk to Jason. He suggested I talk about her in this thing. And I guess that’s the whole reasonBut what am I even supposed to say about her?

April 29, 2011

I’m sick of this. Its not even doing anything. Am I supposed to feel better? Am I suppose to be happy? Talking does nothing. Writing does nothing. Nothing does nothing.

May 13, 2011

I got yelled at for not writing. Happy now you witch?

Jason told me what the little squiggles are underneath some words. Damn technology. So maybe my spelling with be better now. I never cared about whether my writing was good or not anyway. She’s the one who always proofreads resumes and things like that. She’s a reader. I’ve never been one for books. Rather be working with my hands. But she’s a thinker. She’s a creative one. In our younger years she was always learning some new instrument or doing some craft or writing some lines. She always wanted to make something of it all. But I guess life hit her fast. We got married, we had kids right off, and that soaked up her time for the next 20 years or so. I wonder if she was sad. I wonder if she wished she hadn’t married me, maybe she could’ve done something with her life. She could’ve done anything she wanted to. Hell, she was even beautiful enough to do one of those modeling jobs in France or wherever. I bet she could’ve done it. But I held her back. I wonder what mad her stay. I wonder if she ever regretted. I wish I would’ve asked her. But I don’t think I would want to know the answer.

May 24, 2011

Trevor came by today. He drove himself. He’s getting so big. We were talking cars and how his dad paid for half of his. At least the boy spent hard earned cash on the ting and he won’t ruin it. I hate it when brats are just bough cars and they trash them. Had to deal with a lot of that in the shop when I was younger. Just figures that his pig of a father would baby his son like that. Kid won’t grow up strong and responsible babying him like that. But Trevor’s a good kid. I’d say he takes after his mother more and a good thing too. Lucky that bastard of a father hasn’t been around lately and my little Wanda has found a respectable husband that treats her right. I like Tim. He’s better for Wanda and Trevor.

Me and Trevor were talking about her. It was nice hearing from him.

May 27, 2011

I’m writing in this thing too much. Actually, I’m surprise I even remember to write in this thing, Damn minds going. She always bought those little word puzzle books for me to keep me sharp. There entertaining sometimes. She didn’t have to do anything to keep her sharp. She was always a witty one. Cracking jokes at just the right time, always remembering where the keys were, never forgetting a recipe her mother taught her 50 years ago.

June 10, 2011

This damn thing isn’t doing a thing. Jason claims it is, but I can see any difference. I’m still here alone. I still cook myself dinner. I still watch our kids and our grandkids grow up. I watch everyone around me leave me.

Charles is in a bad way. He had a heart attack. And I still have to do this damn thing because that witch he recommended is keeping tabs on it. It’s his fault I have to do this. I have to take the time to write on this damn machine that doesn’t work have the time and criticizes me on my spelling and my grammar just like she used to. Just like she’s yell at me for eating too much and picking up smoking and being moody after the war. Well damn it woman if youd stop and listen to me for one second then maybe we could’ve have a little more happiness together just for a little while and we couldva laughed intead of yelled and kiss istead of fight and goddammit woman!

July 3, 2011

The kids all came over today for the holiday. They was resimicscing and such about their mother. I just played with the kiddos. Trevor’s growing up. He sat at the grown-up table. He’s turning into a responsible man. And Lillian’s looking good after the birth. It’s been almost five months now. Little Janey’s not so tiny now. She’ll be grown-up soon too. Elizabeth and Jackson are full of energy. But Jackson’s hanging around Trevor a lot more than playing with Elizabeth. But they al still come to be for treats. That always makes this old man smile. Tim’s fitting in nicely. We’ve all welcome him to the family. And god, are we happy Wanda not with that bastard anymore. I’m proud my little Wanda’s found a nice, respectable husband for herself who treats her right. And he treats Trevor right too and really that’s what the kid needs, a father who treats him like a person and not a baby. Who teaches him stuff and gives him good advice and makes sure he gets to church.

We raised our kids right. Sure mistakes along the way, but at least we got good people out into the world.

July 4, 2011

There was a time when she’d wake me up in the morning because she’s always been a morning person. She’d sit on the side of the bed and kiss my forehead of cheek. She’d rub my arm or chest with her thumb going in little circles. It’d be partially her cold hands that woke me up, but then I’d see her beautiful face. She was beautiful even in age. She never thought so. I told her when we were kids that I’d think she be smoky even when she was an old lady. She never believed me. God, I’d take her at her ugliest right now.

July 8, 2011

I had scrapple today. She hated scrapple. She couldn’t stand the idea of it. It’s good is all I care.

Jason came over today just for a visit. We was talking about her again. He was talking about how she used to dance into their rooms singing that god awful song of hers to wake the kids up. Oklahoma was one of her favorite movies and when she watched it for the first time she swore she’d sing that song every morning to her kids. I think I was there but honestly I’ve been hearing the story for so long I don’t know if I just made up the memory.

He thinks I should visit her. He’d offer to go with me.

July 14, 2011

Charles is doing better. I went up to the hospital and visited him today. He just has to take it easy. Apparently the office is giving him some trouble. Hell, I’d have a heartache too if I had a patient like me. Hell he has terrible patience not just me. Anyway We talking about the ball games and my meetings with that witch he told me to go to. Apparently she’s a friend of his. They go to church together or something. He asked me to come back but he knows I haven’t gone since. We talked about her for a long while. Is talking about this damn thing the witch is having me do and he told me to talk about her. What am I supposed to say? He told me to talk about our life from the moment I met her. That was so long ago I wonder if I can even remember. She was the rememberer. She remembered everything. She told all our stories like it happened yesterday.

But I never been much for words. That’s her thing. She chatters on like a nutcracker at Christmas. She’s always been the friendly one, always smiling and greeting the bag boys at the store. She’s done that forever, ever since I met her. We were both just youngsters, and I was bagging groceries at the market. Pop knew the manager and talked me up to him. He had be washing windows I think to test me out, then he gave me an apron and set me up bagging. That first day, I saw her for the first time. Really saw her. I’d seen her at school, she just a year below me. She was with her momma, checking out through the line that I was bagging for.

She says hello to me and after a few quiet whispers with her momma she asks what school I go to. I say Grove and I’m in 10th grade. And she looks all surprised as if she doesn’t know that already. She asks about my classes and if I’m going to college. I tell her that I haven’t even thought about college and that I’ll probably be stuck in this store for the rest of my life but that I thought about the army when I trun 18.

That cashier—I forget her name now—must have chewed me four or five times that order. I hardly heard her. I’m surprised I wasn’t fired that very same day. I should’ve been the little slacker I was.

July 18, 2011

When I met her that first time, I hadn’t thought about talking to her. She was too pretty and happy and perfect for a Joe like me. I tried to put her out of my mind. Guys were always going for her. I didn’t stand a chance. I tried going for other girls, but they didn’t really work out. She was always there, beaming and shining and laughing her wind-chime laugh. I had to remind myself of that guy I always saw around her. I didn’t know if they were steady, but he was gaining for it. But one day at school I caught her staring at me. Not like a glance up and catch someone’s eye. She was staring at me. I couldn’t see her face too well cause my eyes were starting to go bad by then, somehow I knew it was me she’s looking at. I automatically pull my gaze away, but then go back. She waves. And I cant see, but I can imagine her smile lighting up her entire body. She smiles with her whole body. Its quite a talent. That blond guy comes over to talk to her, and she stops looking, but I don’t. I watch, and I hear a little voice inside my head that doesn’t sound like my voice telling me to go over and talk to her. My legs on their own bring me right next to her. The blond guy’s eyes go wide and he takes a jerky step back. She turns and smiles again with her whole body.

And I ask her to the movies. She turns from the blond kid and starts walking right beside me. We talk until she reaches her class and waves goodbye. I stand outside her class for a good five minutes.

Am I doing this right? Is this what I’m supposed to do?

July 20, 2011

Wanda visited today. She’d gone to the store and thought she’d check up on me. That’s what I call a good daughter. She thinks I should start dating women again. As if any decent woman would want to go with an old geezer like me. I’m not good looking. Not any more at least. I’m not rich and couldn’t please her anyway. Can’t even cook for her. I don’t think her mother would like that very much. She’s very jealous and a bit suspicious actually. When I was over in the war, she heard so many horror stories about not just husbands getting killed but husbands missing their women and fun times so much they get with whores from the other side’s women. She’d write to me and swear she’d kill me if the gooks didn’t if I ever took a whore. Damn woman just couldn’t share. But I never woulda slept with a Korean woman anyway. I like my blue eyed brunetts.

I’d never be able to be with another woman cuase every time I’d be with her I’d comparing it to her. I’m just best alone.

July 22, 2011

The therapist lady says I’m making progress. And she says she proud that I’m writing. Then why do I feel like hell? Like Satan chewed me up and swallowed me and spat me back whole again.

Jason called today. He calls a lot this time of year just checking up and seeing that I’m ok. He still thinks we should go visit her. The boy is persistant. And know exactly where he got that from. Lord help him because he had to stubborn parents.

July 25, 2011

Friday is the anniversary. Jason still thinks it’ll help me to visit her. It’s not her though. It’s a rock. A cold, hard rock. It doesn’t smile with it’s whole body. It doesn’t giggle like a wind-chime. It can’t be jealous. It can’t sing or dance or write of sing or draw. I’t can’t love me.

But I’ll go for Jason. I think he needs this more than me. Maybe it’ll make him feel better that at least he can see his old man finally put to rest on the subject.