Tuesday, September 13, 2016
I'd give this a C+ at best, if it were a short story that ended this way
I have several unfinished posts that just haven't gelled. Not sure why.
Meanwhile, I don't dream about Katie much—or if I do, I don’t remember the dreams.
Last night was a rare exception: we were about to go somewhere, the three of us. Katie was in one of those teenage moods, just being a complete and utter terror. We were all in the kitchen getting ready to go; Anita said something mildly to Katie, who snarled back and stalked out to the car. Anita looked at me and said, “I tried, now you need to talk to her”, with the unspoken addendum “…because this [wherever it was we were headed] is supposed to be a family outing, and the way she’s acting, it’s not gonna happen”.
And with that, I was right back in the hell of that last year: day-to-day ups and downs worrying about her, feeling bad for her that she was hurting, not knowing what to do or how to help, huddling with Anita trying desperately to figure out things to try. Not that I wouldn’t give a lot for the chance to be back in it now, but our lives are very quiet nowadays by comparison, so it was a shock. I sighed and reached for the doorknob…
…and then the garbage truck arrived in the court outside and woke me up.