So I woke up this morning to an empty bed, well, minus Hershe and Heidi (my two dogs, who are more like children), and a lot on my mind. For one thing, Mike worked overnight and when I woke up at 5:55 AM, he still wasn’t home. I grabbed the cordless that I had rested on the pillow next to me and called him. He answered. I breathed. His raspy voice was filled with exhaustion as he told me he had pulled off at a rest stop on the New Jersey Turnpike to shut his eyes for a little bit. I asked him how long he’d been there and he said only a few minutes but he was going to get ready to leave because he didn’t want to get stuck in traffic on Rt. 76. Now the old Tish would have agreed that traffic on 76 is a nightmare and leaving would be his best bet. But the new Tish told him that it would be far better to be stuck in traffic than dead from swerving off of the road. He agreed. I hung up with Mike, lying there just thinking. I’ll fill you in on what I was thinking about later. After about 15 minutes, I forced myself and Hershe and Heidi out of bed, nudged them down the stairs, through the living room, around the corner, and out the sliding glass door, and commanded them to go down the stairs. Heidi was quick to obey, surprisingly. Hershe just looked at me. Whatever… While they were outside I ran back upstairs and started doing all of the morning chores Mike usually handles. Quickly I realized that as I’m normally lying in bed, he’s running around taking care of our animals (the dogs and our cats, who are a handful on their own) before getting himself ready and out the door. That’s just the way it’s been for so long that I’ve never really thought about how much work it is for him. And though I hustle around in the evenings packing lunches, cooking dinner, cleaning, doing laundry, etc., it doesn’t discount what he does every morning. Yet I don’t think either of us ever tells the other person thank you. Maybe we just figure it’s implied. Or maybe we’re simply taking each other for granted. I’m going with the latter. As I breathlessly trucked up and down the stairs, filled the water and food bowls, cleaned litter boxes, swept floors, made the bed, all before jumping in the shower and getting myself ready, I grew to appreciate Mike and all he does for me and my babies a little more.
Now on to what I was thinking… A couple of days ago my friend Bobbi (who the character Charlie in my novel was built around) got engaged. Happy occasion, right? Not so much. Bobbi got engaged to her girlfriend, Jen (who the character Nikki was based on). When I started writing the film script (which I wrote before attempting the novel) they weren’t together. Bobbi had fallen for Jen previously but it didn’t work out, and I don’t think she was hopeful it ever would. Not long after the script was completed they started seeing each other. I like to think I wrote them a happy ending and now they are living it out.
Okay on to a little backstory: Bobbi’s parents have always been super supportive of her. I remember telling her years back how lucky she was to have parents who love her unconditionally. They just seemed to have this open, non-judgmental relationship that I couldn’t relate to. Not that my parents are not open or are judgmental, but my relationship with them is clearly different. I’ve heard Bobbi curse in front of her dad. Back in the day she was living with her boyfriend. They were encouraging her to join a rock band (the girl has some serious pipes). She even got a tattoo. These were all things my parents would never have accepted, ever. But hers did. Her relationship with them intrigued me. But then Jen came into the picture and things changed. I’m on the outside looking in and I can only go by what she’s told me, and I’m not going to go into all that, but what I will say is that a relationship that appeared to be so pure, easy, and connected became strained. It became complicated and the only reason I can see is that Bobbi kissed a girl, and she liked it!
Two days ago I was sitting in the chair getting my hair cut when my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and it was Bobbi. Earlier that day she told me that she was going to look at kittens and was hopeful they’d get one, so I assumed she was calling to tell me she did. But when I answered the phone without any salutation she yelled out, “I’m engaged!” I was elated for her. And since this was the same day that I got the news that Jim died, I was more sentimental than normal, hence the tears instantly welling up in my eyes. All I could think was that Jen makes her happy, and she makes Jen happy and that’s what’s important. They love each other, take care of each other, and support each other. Isn’t that what all of us in relationships should do? Isn’t that what we all search for? And isn’t that what every parent wants for their child, someone who adores them, cares for them, protects them, and vows forever to them? Do the parental essentials somehow no longer matter because the person you fall in love with is a different color or the same sex?
The following day I talked to Bobbi and she said she was angry and hurt by the reaction of her family. She called her sister, who replied indifferently, and then she spoke to her dad and mom whose responses mirrored the other’s: “Oh. I don’t know what to say.” To which my witty, matter-of-fact peaches said, “Congratulations works.” At once I felt myself getting angry with her parents for robbing her of her joy. How dare they! But then I found myself trying to make sense of it all, and trying to understand what made this relationship that I myself once envied go awry. Certainly they didn’t stop loving her, and they do like Jen, so that didn’t change. What could it be?
I spent all of yesterday, all last night, and this morning pondering this. Then I started to think about my parents and Mike’s. With Mike being white and me being black I wondered if our parents have ever wished we didn’t get married. Though no one has ever uttered anything of the sort, I wondered if in the back of their minds they wished that. And I thought, if ever they did, I want to believe it would be because of how other people treated us, or looked at us, not how they felt. Perhaps this is the case with Bobbi’s parents too. Maybe it’s the world we live in, and the ignorant glances, the mindless chatter, the rolled eyes that they don’t want their daughter to endure. The more I think about it, the more I think that’s what it is. But even with that being the case, if they’re already sensing that Bobbi’s and Jen’s love could cause opposition from others, shouldn’t they resolve to just support and love them more?
I was taught that homosexuality is wrong. Plain wrong!!! I was taught it’s not natural, not how god intended it to be, not godly. And this didn’t come from my parents, but from society. I don’t recall my mother or father ever saying anything of the sort even though I’m sure if I came home and said I was in love with a girl, they would probably react far worse than Bobbi’s parents.
I can’t seem to shake the notion that we allow others to define our happiness. Regardless of how “free” we like to think we are, often we buckle when societal lines are crossed. We follow the “norm” in fear of being ostracized, labeled, and outcast. Why do we do that?
I’ve decided that if following the norm means not supporting and loving my friend, someone who is simply living her life, loving another human being, and being happy, then I stand to be different. I will love her more. I will be there with her on her wedding day, holding my head high, proud that my friend doesn’t mind being a little different too. I pray her parents and sister are there doing the same.
So tonight is Shakespeare in the Park. I’m super excited. But as I gaze out of the window at the murky sky I have a feeling Macbeth may be cancelled due to a little dribbly, dribbly. If that’s the case, I’m off to Ikea for a new bookshelf to store the books I’m going to buy at lunch. The library’s having a $5.00 all you can fit in a shopping bag sale. Last Saturday Mike and I went and we cleaned up, but the books are sitting on the floor in my writing room because my bookcase is already jam-packed. I can’t have that. So it only makes sense to buy an inexpensive bookcase now to store my books since our plans to build built-ins won’t happen till next year. Let’s hope Mike doesn’t beg to differ.
Happy Friday!
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