Yes, they definitely have been. Laura has been wonderful. As far as she goes... She... Well, good riddance. That time with her was confusing.
I look around, and try to understand where the hell Laura could be. SHE gets off at four. It is six. Dinner is supposed to be on the table. SHE should be lying down on our brown couch, reading an 'Esquire' or something. Goddamn it, I'm hungry. And just one question keeps bugging me like a sore. I want to know. What did I ever do to HER...
I don't like to think about it. Even so, I keep replaying chunks of it in my head; feeling like a gramophone with a broken needle. I especially happen to remember how we first met. Me and my buddies went out to see a Giants game one night. It was a cold night, and the wind was blowing empty beer cans and other ballpark junk around the parking lot. We were just tailgating, you know, drinking some brew, when this black Chevy with girls drives up, and parks right next to us. So, the women climb out and start up a conversation.
We talk and drink some, and end up buying our tickets together. It was when we were standing in line that I'd picked the one I wanted. She was a bit smaller than me, and was wearing a Bugs Bunny jacket. She had full lips, wavy blond hair, and perfect brown eyes. But it was the Bugs Bunny jacket that really nailed it for me.
"I love your jacket," I say, as we ride the elevator up to the ballpark.
She blushes a little, but smiles.
"Thank you. The girls find it childish, but I like it."
That night we sat together and watched baseball. I don't know, but I think it was one of the happiest nights of my life. We just sat there and talked about things. She told me her name was Miriam. She had a pretty name.
"Hey, babe. Sorry I'm late. Did you make yourself something to eat?"
Laura walks over to the couch where I'm sitting and puts her hand on my shoulder. Then she sits down next to me. She takes off her gray overcoat and dumps it onto the carpet. Miriam never threw her coat on the floor.
I look at Laura. She looks exhausted.
"Maybe we go out for dinner?" I ask, and take her hand. "How long has it been since we've been out to dinner?"
"Yeah, some Chinese, maybe."
"I was thinking more along the lines of a hamburger. I really have a craving for a hamburger. How does a hamburger sound to you?"
She runs her hand through my hair, and looks me in the eyes.
"What are you thinking?" asks Laura.
"I don't know," I say.
I never knew how to answer a question like that.
Our first kiss was when Bonds hit a homerun. It was the last thing I'd expected when I stood up to cheer, but she just gave me a little peck on the cheek. It was a blast in the bottom of the ninth that won the game for the Giants. The crowd rocked the place, bleachers and pavilion were shaking like hell, people high-fiving each other all over the place. It was after she kissed me on the cheek that I turned around, because I was kind of surprised. Then she nails me right on the lips. It'd been the most dramatic game I've seen in a while.
"Why are you looking at one place?" asks Laura. "You aren't even blinking. Are you O.K? You're spacing out like crazy. Is something wrong at work?"
I fiddle a little with the soy sauce bottle and crack open a mussel.
"Dear, it's nothing."
She shrugs and turns away. I can't help it if I don't like to talk about nothing.
We talked about things that night. She was different from the others, there was passion in her. Her thinking and talking were intense; there was something about that intensity that made me almost delirious. It turned out that she was more than a Bugs Bunny jacket. She told me how she grew up in a family of six, and how their father would come home drunk and drugged and beat his children and wife, then go out and cheese up some more before falling asleep at some curb. She told me how her boyfriends in high school would dump her for some cheerleader bimbo, and how bad it would hurt her everytime. She told me how her boss fucked her in the stock room. She even told me that sometimes she didn't feel like living anymore. I found that sad.
And after all that she kissed me. I definitely wanted to see her again. Even though I didn't understand why she had such a horrible time in her life. I wanted to make her happy. I wanted to make it all better. Instead...
"Jesus, Bob, tell me what's on your mind!" Laura yelps. "Please... We haven't talked all evening. Ever since we got here you've been moping."
The food arrives. The waiter puts the plates on our table, and smiles courteously. He then goes to wipe off a neighboring table. With short strokes, he waves the crumbs onto the empty dish tray. He studies us over for a second, and, seeing that there is nothing worthy of his interest, sits down at the clean table.
"I'm not moping," I tell her.
"So what do you call this?" she asks, and copies my blank stare.
I shrug and take a sip of tea. The food here is pretty good.
I dated Miriam for a couple of months or so before we decided to move in together. The dating was great. We went to Giants games, watched movies together, and basically had fun. She was the one talking most of the time. I got a little bored at times, but all it took was one glance at her for me to... Oh, I can't explain it. She would sometimes come over to my house in her car, and just take me away to some place I'd never been before. There were a lot of neat things she knew -- little Indian restaurants filled with curry aroma, abandoned hills where we could just sit and kiss, spacious grass valleys just beyond the Golden Gate Bridge. There was nothing to it then, we just loved to hang out. We thought it would work out great when she'd move into my apartment. What a great person, she was.
One day, we were driving past the San Francisco Zoo when we see that the street is blocked. She wants to know what's going on. I want to get to where we are going, which is a baseball game. She insists. I say no. She insists some more. I give up, but tell her to hurry it up. I put the car near a curb, and she starts running towards the crowd. I stay in the car. I doze off. She comes running back, and tells me that an elephant had escaped from the zoo, and this makeshift crew of policemen and firemen and zoomen is trying to bring him back in. She is as excited as I'd ever seen her. I tell her that we'll be late. She wants to stay and watch. I tell her that we'll be late.
"Say, Bob," she goes. Do you even care about anything but baseball and beer? Do you even know that a somewhat interesting world spins by you while you sit on your couch and munch on peanuts? Ever thought about that?"
"Miriam, what's wrong with you?"
"What's wrong is that you are pouring your life down the drain as if it was a carton of spoiled milk."
She begins to sob. I don't like to see her like that.
"What are you talking about? Miriam, what's going on?!"
"It's beyond you..."
I get out of the car. I try to hug her. She just pushes me back to the curb.
"Miriam, what's wrong? Why aren't you happy?"
"Because! You're such a fuck-up, Bob, such a goddamn fuck-up. Why should I be happy? Give me one reason anyone should. What's the reason? Where is it written I must be happy?"
I have not a clue of what she's talking about.
"Why do you have to be so downright depressing all the time? Look at the positive side of things, love, see the light and just be. Don't ask why"
"We all have to be happy, or something's horribly wrong with us, right? No, Bob, I can't be like that. Not contentment, not happiness... They don't make the world go round, be sure of that. I could die, I could get killed, and what then? What will you do? Will you still try to be happy? Will you pretend that the world is great? You are pretending, we all are, and that's because we can't find what's real. Your happiness is not real. It has no substance. It's based on illusion, and will lead you to nothing but confusion once the illusion disappears."
She was sobbing by now.
"You are like a manic depressive of some sort," I say.
"Don't interrupt me," she goes, "you've been moron enough for one day."
"Sorry..."
"What we could have had was real. Think about it. What it means... We all live solitary, confined lives. When can you ever see outside yourself? How about see clearly? Only when you love and when you see beauty. People don't know this, don't see this, they are too afraid to see bliss or misery, something beyond confined contentment. And so they walk on, day after day, sunrise after sunset, hoping for the best, looking towards the star-crossed tomorrow, cherishing the good and dreading the bad, promenading along the same filthy walls... There is nothing wrong with being happy, Bob, I was happy with you to a point. It's the complacency, the contentment, the blindness towards ideals that I have trouble dealing with. You'll find out, Bob, that at points contentment is much more tragic than misery."
I don't know what she meant, but she moved out the next day.
Today is another bright day -- not a cloud in the sky. I get into my car, and realize that everything is going to be OK now. It is OK. Laura will be home once I get there. We love each other.
I drive by yesterday's restaurant, and happen to catch a glimpse of yesterday's waiter. Funny thing is, I think he's sitting at the same table.