My Oma died today.
(Oma, of course, being the German word for Grandmother: in this instance my Mom's Mom.)
It wasn't a surprise at all- she'd had a stroke back in May, was hospitalized/in rehab for about six weeks, and we all knew that basically the goal was to get her well enough to come home to die.
And she did. So at least there's that.
I got the call while I was at the playground. Nathan and I had taken TLG and my best friend's son (whom we were babysitting this weekend) to run off some energy, and thank all the gods Nathan was literally standing right next to me when I got the call, able to put his arm around me and be a solid presence grounding me.
It was my mom, and her voice when she said hello- I knew. And I cracked a joke because that's how we roll, and we both laughed and cried and then I had to lock that shit down because I had two little boys I had just told I was taking for ice cream.
I'm proud of my ability to compartmentalize- it is extremely useful is emergency situations. But the problem is that it's a lot harder to unlock that emotional box than it is to lock it in the first place.
Even after we were back to our typical Family Unit of Three, with Nathan occupying TLG downstairs so that I could have some Alone Time upstairs... nothing. Numbness. And I feel like I can't talk about it with TLG until I can express honest emotion. Right now I'm too detached, too clinical. I a not a healthy model of grief.
Hence I'm now working on this blog entry, forcing myself to face and process things, and listening to sad music for good measure. Sometimes you just have to artificially jump start the emotions before they'll flow properly. Priming a pump, or something. I don't know. I don't have it in me to make elegant metaphors, at the moment.
And just like that, it's working.
6.27.2019
Counting Down 65 Days
or: Yes! I'm Pregnant Again!
Hey, remember how last time I was all, "turns out I'm really terrible about not mentioning the pregnancy while I blog,"? Well that remains a true statement, hence the extremely extended silence. But I let the fetal cat out of the social media bag this past Sunday, so here I am doing a write-up on the blog. And it's important to me that I start blogging with regularity again, since it's so fun to look back at TLG's first year of life through my in-the-moment lens. I'm trying not to shortchange this new one, whom we are calling Little Brother amongst our little family, but whom I'll call LBB (aka Little Baby Boy) on the blog (for now- the TLG -formerly-known-as-Neeps taught me the folly of expecting pre-birth nicknames to stick).
Now with that out of the way, let's hit the other Typical Questions
-My due date is August 30th (aka 65 days from now) but based on past experience, I'm laying money on August 24th or sooner.
-As you may have surmised, it's another boy! We are freaking stoked, because (as I exclaimed during the anatomy scan) this means we don't have to learn a new set of genitals! Winning. Actually I have a funny story about this- TLG was dead set on having a little sister (he wanted to name her Rosie, of all things) so when we broke the news that Little Brother was, in fact, a little brother, he wailed, "Nooooo!" I got it all on video- priceless. But we talked him around by pointing out that I have a little brother (Uncle David, whom he adores) and Daddy is not just a little brother but the littlest brother, so now he's on board with the idea that little brothers can be cool, and more importantly, little brothers look up to big brothers, who get to teach them All The Things. We'll see how long this enthusiasm lasts once the squirming larva is actually here, but for now I'll take it!
-Just like with TLG, we have no clue what LBB's Real Life name will be. We have a list of names that we'll choose from once we actually meet him, but for now... LBB it is.
-Yes, this is the Last One. Steps Will Be Taken to ensure it, I assure you.
There, that ought to cover it, for now. Here's to our future adventures as a Family of Four!
 |
| All swanky at a Work Event. |
Hey, remember how last time I was all, "turns out I'm really terrible about not mentioning the pregnancy while I blog,"? Well that remains a true statement, hence the extremely extended silence. But I let the fetal cat out of the social media bag this past Sunday, so here I am doing a write-up on the blog. And it's important to me that I start blogging with regularity again, since it's so fun to look back at TLG's first year of life through my in-the-moment lens. I'm trying not to shortchange this new one, whom we are calling Little Brother amongst our little family, but whom I'll call LBB (aka Little Baby Boy) on the blog (for now- the TLG -formerly-known-as-Neeps taught me the folly of expecting pre-birth nicknames to stick).
Now with that out of the way, let's hit the other Typical Questions
-My due date is August 30th (aka 65 days from now) but based on past experience, I'm laying money on August 24th or sooner.
-As you may have surmised, it's another boy! We are freaking stoked, because (as I exclaimed during the anatomy scan) this means we don't have to learn a new set of genitals! Winning. Actually I have a funny story about this- TLG was dead set on having a little sister (he wanted to name her Rosie, of all things) so when we broke the news that Little Brother was, in fact, a little brother, he wailed, "Nooooo!" I got it all on video- priceless. But we talked him around by pointing out that I have a little brother (Uncle David, whom he adores) and Daddy is not just a little brother but the littlest brother, so now he's on board with the idea that little brothers can be cool, and more importantly, little brothers look up to big brothers, who get to teach them All The Things. We'll see how long this enthusiasm lasts once the squirming larva is actually here, but for now I'll take it!
-Just like with TLG, we have no clue what LBB's Real Life name will be. We have a list of names that we'll choose from once we actually meet him, but for now... LBB it is.
-Yes, this is the Last One. Steps Will Be Taken to ensure it, I assure you.
There, that ought to cover it, for now. Here's to our future adventures as a Family of Four!
6.16.2019
Father's Day 2019
(How's that for a distinctive title?)
It's been somewhat of an Emotionally Weird Father's Day.
Let me explain.
It's been five years since I've had a truly Terrible Father's Day- that being the one that occurred right after the second miscarriage, and Nathan and Katie and I got lunch at Red Lobster and the clueless waitress said brightly to us (a trio of extremely quiet, mid-thirties people eating lunch at 2pm with no children in our midst), "Are you here celebrating Father's Day?"
(Read the room, lady. Read the room.)
The 19 years preceding that, they'd run the gamut from "Crying most of the day," to "Hey who wants the day off because I will definitely take your shift and get some extra money out of this stupid made up holiday!"
But then TLG came along, and the game changed. Suddenly it was a Happy Day again, with an actual reason to celebrate, and warm, tender feelings for my Lifemate in his role as Lifegiver. It gives me great pleasure to be able to anticipate the made up holiday with joy and expectation, to be able to make it into a Special Day (or at least a day with Special Moments) for my mate. The Specialness I had planned for today was helping TLG make a card for Nathan, taking him to the second service of church so he could see Daddy play, and then going out to eat wherever Nathan wanted (not Red Lobster...) Nathan obviously left the house at his usual way-too-early time (since he plays for both services, and gets there early to run through things), so I was alone as TLG scarfed his breakfast downstairs and I ruminated my Costume Choices.
In the end I felt a very powerful call to wear an old shirt of my dad's leftover from his early Air Force days (Yep, a ~40 year old t-shirt. It has exactly one tiny hole in it, the result of a too-enthusiastic cat. They do not make things like they used to, that's for damn sure.) I didn't put much thought into it, just "Yes, this is a good shirt to wear today, to remember my father in a non-painful way."
But then... someone actually asked me about the shirt.
"Okay, I have to know," says the kind substitute pastor gesturing to my back. "Who is JP 13?"
"Oh," I blink, taken off guard by the question, and suddenly realizing it wasn't perhaps totally appropriate to wear a shirt that says, "The Hell We Can't" into my husband's church. "JP was my dad. And 13 was his..." I fumble for a way to translate into Civilian Terms. "...class... thing."
"Class of 2013?" The pastor eyes my obviously late-thirties-self with a smile. "I don't think so,"
"No no," I wave my hands helplessly. "Not the year. Their class number. Like a squadron. It was from some training he did after he graduated from the Air Force Academy. They... they got to design their own patches and..." I stretch the front of the shirt out, as though somehow he hasn't already noticed, "They chose squeezing blood from a turnip. Obviously. And I, uh... I decided to wear it in remembrance of him today." Sorry about the 'hell' thing, I add mentally.
"It's a wonderful remembrance," he says, and I like him that much more.
The conversation wrapped up pretty quickly thereafter, but the shock of it- of someone who doesn't know me asking, and me actually talking about my father- shifted my brain a bit. So that rather than "Okay thought about Daddy for 30 seconds this morning now I can put all my focus onto Nathan," it became more of a balance between the two. The bitter and the sweet. And I'm not saying it's bad, or that I'm upset it happened. But it added an emotional nuance to the day I wasn't expecting. And I may or may not have teared up a bit at the end of service when Nathan was talking to the congregation about what it means to be a good father.
Anyway.
Overall it was an extremely good day. We had (a very late) lunch at Thai Orchid, and then Nathan went to the guitar store for a few hours (because I firmly believe that Mother's and Father's Days ought to be about the parental figure in question doing something for themselves) while TLG and I hung out at home. And now I'm going to bed, because I am of an age where Good Days include Early Bedtimes.
::sigh::
It's been somewhat of an Emotionally Weird Father's Day.
Let me explain.
It's been five years since I've had a truly Terrible Father's Day- that being the one that occurred right after the second miscarriage, and Nathan and Katie and I got lunch at Red Lobster and the clueless waitress said brightly to us (a trio of extremely quiet, mid-thirties people eating lunch at 2pm with no children in our midst), "Are you here celebrating Father's Day?"
(Read the room, lady. Read the room.)
The 19 years preceding that, they'd run the gamut from "Crying most of the day," to "Hey who wants the day off because I will definitely take your shift and get some extra money out of this stupid made up holiday!"
But then TLG came along, and the game changed. Suddenly it was a Happy Day again, with an actual reason to celebrate, and warm, tender feelings for my Lifemate in his role as Lifegiver. It gives me great pleasure to be able to anticipate the made up holiday with joy and expectation, to be able to make it into a Special Day (or at least a day with Special Moments) for my mate. The Specialness I had planned for today was helping TLG make a card for Nathan, taking him to the second service of church so he could see Daddy play, and then going out to eat wherever Nathan wanted (not Red Lobster...) Nathan obviously left the house at his usual way-too-early time (since he plays for both services, and gets there early to run through things), so I was alone as TLG scarfed his breakfast downstairs and I ruminated my Costume Choices.
In the end I felt a very powerful call to wear an old shirt of my dad's leftover from his early Air Force days (Yep, a ~40 year old t-shirt. It has exactly one tiny hole in it, the result of a too-enthusiastic cat. They do not make things like they used to, that's for damn sure.) I didn't put much thought into it, just "Yes, this is a good shirt to wear today, to remember my father in a non-painful way."
But then... someone actually asked me about the shirt.
"Okay, I have to know," says the kind substitute pastor gesturing to my back. "Who is JP 13?"
"Oh," I blink, taken off guard by the question, and suddenly realizing it wasn't perhaps totally appropriate to wear a shirt that says, "The Hell We Can't" into my husband's church. "JP was my dad. And 13 was his..." I fumble for a way to translate into Civilian Terms. "...class... thing."
"Class of 2013?" The pastor eyes my obviously late-thirties-self with a smile. "I don't think so,"
"No no," I wave my hands helplessly. "Not the year. Their class number. Like a squadron. It was from some training he did after he graduated from the Air Force Academy. They... they got to design their own patches and..." I stretch the front of the shirt out, as though somehow he hasn't already noticed, "They chose squeezing blood from a turnip. Obviously. And I, uh... I decided to wear it in remembrance of him today." Sorry about the 'hell' thing, I add mentally.
"It's a wonderful remembrance," he says, and I like him that much more.
The conversation wrapped up pretty quickly thereafter, but the shock of it- of someone who doesn't know me asking, and me actually talking about my father- shifted my brain a bit. So that rather than "Okay thought about Daddy for 30 seconds this morning now I can put all my focus onto Nathan," it became more of a balance between the two. The bitter and the sweet. And I'm not saying it's bad, or that I'm upset it happened. But it added an emotional nuance to the day I wasn't expecting. And I may or may not have teared up a bit at the end of service when Nathan was talking to the congregation about what it means to be a good father.
Anyway.
Overall it was an extremely good day. We had (a very late) lunch at Thai Orchid, and then Nathan went to the guitar store for a few hours (because I firmly believe that Mother's and Father's Days ought to be about the parental figure in question doing something for themselves) while TLG and I hung out at home. And now I'm going to bed, because I am of an age where Good Days include Early Bedtimes.
::sigh::
4.05.2019
Milestones (and Their Observation)
In order to gear myself up to write an Epic Marriage Milestone Post, I (reconstructed and) listened to "There In Spirit"- aka our Wedding Soundtrack*. And then, excellent music piping directly into my ears, I read back over the blog posts tagged "musings on marriage". And then I sat and stared at the screen for a while, stumped for something else to add... and then put all that aside and, you know, actually celebrated our Ten Year Wedding Anniversary.
It was pretty low-key, as far as these things go- I've said before that a wedding is not a marriage: it stands to reason that neither is an anniversary (no matter what Big Diamond would like us to believe). My Lifemate and I have been a bit too busy having an extremely full and chaotic life together to worry about making an Artificially Big Deal out of a party that happened a decade ago. Which is not to say we made no deal of it- we played hooky from work, loaded all four of us into the car (yes, Isis got to come), and headed out on a three-hour road-trip to Newport for some fresh fish-n-chips and a visit to the Aquarium at the Coast, a treat we've been promising TLG for a long time now.
When we left the Aquarium it was shockingly sunny and lovely out, so we decided to hit the beach...
...where it promptly hail stormed on us. But then, considering it rained on our actual wedding day, I chose to take it as a little wink-wink-nudge-nudge from the Powers That Be.
(And then tried real hard not to take it too personally when it stopped the second we made it back to the car after a half-run up a suddenly-much-longer trail...)
From there we went to get some ice cream ("Just what you want when you're wet and freezing," Nathan joked, but ice cream had been promised earlier, and therefore ice cream would be had.) (I had something called Oregon Trail and it was delicious) and then it was back on the road.
We'd managed to time just poorly enough in regards to Rush Hour that a stop at the outlet mall was a welcome distraction, and I ended up getting a pair of long-needed winter boots for a very nice price (happy anniversary to me). TLG fell asleep for the last half-hour of the drive, which means I got to just pour him directly into pajamas/bed when we got home, and Nathan and I actually got a chance to watch a movie together (it was Aquaman, and it was on the enjoyable side of okay).
So yeah, I don't know that I have anything Truly Profound to say about being married for ten years. No new insights, nothing particularly poetic. Just... I'm glad I married him. Glad he's been there holding me for the best and worst days the past decade has held. Maybe there really is something to the whole Entanglement thing, that my falling in love with him as a teenager had less to do with who were were at the time and more to do with the many years we'd spend as partners in the future. ::shrug:: Or maybe I, art-major-turned-financial-advisor, really have a fundamental misunderstanding of theoretical physics. Who knows it's a mystery I guess.
One last thing to share- the "traditional" theme for gifts for the ten year anniversary is tin or aluminum. Originally I booked a lesson in tin-type photography for Nathan, but the people I booked through lost their classroom space, so we switched it to a family portrait done in tin-type. I'll share that once we actually get it done... Nathan's mind was working along similar lines, and he got three of our Bonnie-and-Clyde-themed Engagement Photos (taken by my Katie!) printed on aluminum in matching heights, so I can make a nice display at my office (or in the new house- we'll see!). (For the record, we would never go on a mass-murder spree.) (And if we did, we'd be a lot smarter about it.)
So there you have it- ten years of marriage in the books. But now that I've already written an entire entry, I'm suddenly feeling the need to keep going just a little bit longer... so let's break those ten years down into smaller Milestones, shall we?
A little over one since I changed careers. Three-and-a-half since our first child was born. Nearly five since we lost Koopa. Nearly six since we lost the first baby. Seven since we brought Isis home. Eight since we moved to Vancouver and bought our first house together. Nine since our first trip overseas. Ten since our Wedding Day.
But... that's not really where it began, is it? Let's go further back.
Ten years and two weeks since we eloped to the courthouse, giggling like fools. Eleven-and-a-half years since I packed up my life and relocated 3000 miles to see if we could work as a couple. Nearly twelve since we had the conversation that would lead to said move. Nearly fourteen since we decided we could never be together because of our different faiths, and had our first (and what I thought would be our only) kiss. Twenty since I confessed I was in love with him and he told me he didn't think of me that way- but we stayed best friends anyway. And twenty-four since we met and bonded over bouncing crawdad eyeballs in Freshman Biology.
So yeah. We've had a lot of Milestones over the full course of our relationship with just-as-much-if-not-more importance than "a decade of marriage". And I look forward to hitting many, many more on the way. Cheers!
*I actually put together over four hours of carefully curated (and mixed!) music for our entire wedding/reception (oh hello there control-freak-nature), but for the Album Itself (which was sent to those of our Nearest and Dearest who couldn't make it to the Official Shindig) I pared it down to a mere Twenty Significant Tracks:
Heart Asks Pleasure First (Ahn Trio)
Sunrise, Sunset (from Fiddler on the Roof)
Wedding Day- Duet With Heidi (Seal)
Love You More (Alexi Murdoch)
And I Love Her (The Beatles)
Hairy Trees (Goldfrapp)
Wildflowers (Tom Petty)
Lucky (Jason Mraz feat. Colbie Caillat)
Alabama Chicken (Sean Hayes)
Wontcha Come Home (G. Love & Special Sauce)
Untitled (Interpol)
Bitter Sweet Symphony (The Verve)
Holding Out for a Hero (Frou Frou)**
Singin' in the Rain (Mint Royale)
I've Got You Under My Skin (Ella Fitzgerald)
Sweet Home Alabama (Lynyrd Skynyrd)
Gamble Everything for Love (Ben Lee)
Surfer Girl (The Beach Boys)
Delirious Love (Neil Diamond)
Let's Get It On (Marvin Gaye)
**I can't actually get this version on Spotify, so I had to pause my Official Soundtrack and pop over to YouTube...
 |
| Cheeeeeeese! |
 |
| ROAD TRIP AAAAHHHHH! |
 |
| Boy loves him some "chips". |
 |
| TLG was pleased as punch to spy a megalodon. |
 |
| Life sized. For real. |
 |
| The wind was up! |
(And then tried real hard not to take it too personally when it stopped the second we made it back to the car after a half-run up a suddenly-much-longer trail...)
From there we went to get some ice cream ("Just what you want when you're wet and freezing," Nathan joked, but ice cream had been promised earlier, and therefore ice cream would be had.) (I had something called Oregon Trail and it was delicious) and then it was back on the road.
 |
| (we DID get this conciliatory rainbow on the way home) |
 |
| Exxxxcellent |
One last thing to share- the "traditional" theme for gifts for the ten year anniversary is tin or aluminum. Originally I booked a lesson in tin-type photography for Nathan, but the people I booked through lost their classroom space, so we switched it to a family portrait done in tin-type. I'll share that once we actually get it done... Nathan's mind was working along similar lines, and he got three of our Bonnie-and-Clyde-themed Engagement Photos (taken by my Katie!) printed on aluminum in matching heights, so I can make a nice display at my office (or in the new house- we'll see!). (For the record, we would never go on a mass-murder spree.) (And if we did, we'd be a lot smarter about it.)
 |
| LOOK AT WHAT BABIES WE WERE! |
A little over one since I changed careers. Three-and-a-half since our first child was born. Nearly five since we lost Koopa. Nearly six since we lost the first baby. Seven since we brought Isis home. Eight since we moved to Vancouver and bought our first house together. Nine since our first trip overseas. Ten since our Wedding Day.
But... that's not really where it began, is it? Let's go further back.
Ten years and two weeks since we eloped to the courthouse, giggling like fools. Eleven-and-a-half years since I packed up my life and relocated 3000 miles to see if we could work as a couple. Nearly twelve since we had the conversation that would lead to said move. Nearly fourteen since we decided we could never be together because of our different faiths, and had our first (and what I thought would be our only) kiss. Twenty since I confessed I was in love with him and he told me he didn't think of me that way- but we stayed best friends anyway. And twenty-four since we met and bonded over bouncing crawdad eyeballs in Freshman Biology.
So yeah. We've had a lot of Milestones over the full course of our relationship with just-as-much-if-not-more importance than "a decade of marriage". And I look forward to hitting many, many more on the way. Cheers!
*I actually put together over four hours of carefully curated (and mixed!) music for our entire wedding/reception (oh hello there control-freak-nature), but for the Album Itself (which was sent to those of our Nearest and Dearest who couldn't make it to the Official Shindig) I pared it down to a mere Twenty Significant Tracks:
Heart Asks Pleasure First (Ahn Trio)
Sunrise, Sunset (from Fiddler on the Roof)
Wedding Day- Duet With Heidi (Seal)
Love You More (Alexi Murdoch)
And I Love Her (The Beatles)
Hairy Trees (Goldfrapp)
Wildflowers (Tom Petty)
Lucky (Jason Mraz feat. Colbie Caillat)
Alabama Chicken (Sean Hayes)
Wontcha Come Home (G. Love & Special Sauce)
Untitled (Interpol)
Bitter Sweet Symphony (The Verve)
Holding Out for a Hero (Frou Frou)**
Singin' in the Rain (Mint Royale)
I've Got You Under My Skin (Ella Fitzgerald)
Sweet Home Alabama (Lynyrd Skynyrd)
Gamble Everything for Love (Ben Lee)
Surfer Girl (The Beach Boys)
Delirious Love (Neil Diamond)
Let's Get It On (Marvin Gaye)
**I can't actually get this version on Spotify, so I had to pause my Official Soundtrack and pop over to YouTube...
3.21.2019
A Woman Walks Through a Park
I'm on my habitual Afternoon Walk, a 20-30 minute affair that takes me through the neighborhood closest to my office, and includes a portion of a trail that loops around a local park. I'm on the phone with my Mom, whom I haven't had a good conversation with in almost two weeks, so I have a lot that I'm blathering on about, both personal and business, all at a reasonable volume.
I'm not sure when, exactly, the blond man gets onto the path ahead of me- I'm not paying particularly close attention to him or any of the other half-dozen people in the park, most of whom appear to be itinerants. But I do notice him walking, ponytail swinging, maybe ten feet ahead of me. He takes a side trail out of the park into the neighborhood, the same one that I typically follow.
When I exit the park, now out of sight of the others, there he is- standing still, watching me intently. It's a little creepy, but hell- maybe he's meeting a friend. I walk past him, still talking loudly to my mom about mutual fund families (don't judge). As I pass him (within grabbing distance, I now realize, but I wasn't thinking in those terms at the time) he says, "You're really pretty."
"Thanks," I say, somewhat curtly. I appreciate the compliment, but I am, quite obviously, on the phone.
"What are you doing later?" he says to my back.
"Working," I say, with more of an edge of my voice. It's 3pm and I am wearing a business suit.
"Hey, can I get your number?" He calls, now that I'm over a block away.
"I don't think my husband would like that," I say, not turning, but raising my left hand to let my ring flash in the sun. One the other end of the phone my mother says, somewhat incredulous, "Are you being harassed right now?"
"Yep," I say, teeth gritted. He doesn't say anything else, and he doesn't follow me, so that's the end of that, fortunately.
Sort of.
Because, you see, now I'm annoyed. I'm annoyed at the guy for being so rude as to talk to me when I'm already having a conversation, but mostly I'm annoyed with myself.
Why did I even answer him when he asked what I was doing? And if I was going to continue to respond out of some bizarre sense of politeness, why did I fall back on the coward's excuse of a male partner's displeasure? Why didn't I just say, "No." like the independent, unapologetic woman I am?
Why why why.
I mean, I know why. Because if you say "No" they want to know why not. Always. Or maybe they just call you a bitch, thereby jumping ahead to the exchange's natural end. If you throw up a "hey-another-male-has-already-peed-on-this-object" excuse, they have a salve to their pride that lets them retreat gracefully (or sometimes they perceive it as a challenge, but that's another set of stories altogether). So yeah, I know why I did it, but if anything that only increases my annoyance with myself: what the hell, O. Way to take the coward's way out.
(Or, to put it another way, the safe way out.)
It's so hard, sometimes, to live up to our own ideals. I'll just have to try to do better, next time.
(Because, sadly, there's always a next time.)
I'm not sure when, exactly, the blond man gets onto the path ahead of me- I'm not paying particularly close attention to him or any of the other half-dozen people in the park, most of whom appear to be itinerants. But I do notice him walking, ponytail swinging, maybe ten feet ahead of me. He takes a side trail out of the park into the neighborhood, the same one that I typically follow.
When I exit the park, now out of sight of the others, there he is- standing still, watching me intently. It's a little creepy, but hell- maybe he's meeting a friend. I walk past him, still talking loudly to my mom about mutual fund families (don't judge). As I pass him (within grabbing distance, I now realize, but I wasn't thinking in those terms at the time) he says, "You're really pretty."
"Thanks," I say, somewhat curtly. I appreciate the compliment, but I am, quite obviously, on the phone.
"What are you doing later?" he says to my back.
"Working," I say, with more of an edge of my voice. It's 3pm and I am wearing a business suit.
"Hey, can I get your number?" He calls, now that I'm over a block away.
"I don't think my husband would like that," I say, not turning, but raising my left hand to let my ring flash in the sun. One the other end of the phone my mother says, somewhat incredulous, "Are you being harassed right now?"
"Yep," I say, teeth gritted. He doesn't say anything else, and he doesn't follow me, so that's the end of that, fortunately.
Sort of.
Because, you see, now I'm annoyed. I'm annoyed at the guy for being so rude as to talk to me when I'm already having a conversation, but mostly I'm annoyed with myself.
Why did I even answer him when he asked what I was doing? And if I was going to continue to respond out of some bizarre sense of politeness, why did I fall back on the coward's excuse of a male partner's displeasure? Why didn't I just say, "No." like the independent, unapologetic woman I am?
Why why why.
I mean, I know why. Because if you say "No" they want to know why not. Always. Or maybe they just call you a bitch, thereby jumping ahead to the exchange's natural end. If you throw up a "hey-another-male-has-already-peed-on-this-object" excuse, they have a salve to their pride that lets them retreat gracefully (or sometimes they perceive it as a challenge, but that's another set of stories altogether). So yeah, I know why I did it, but if anything that only increases my annoyance with myself: what the hell, O. Way to take the coward's way out.
(Or, to put it another way, the safe way out.)
It's so hard, sometimes, to live up to our own ideals. I'll just have to try to do better, next time.
(Because, sadly, there's always a next time.)
2.18.2019
Judith Slays Holofernes XXX
I bore silent witness over the evening as Holofernes’s personal aid hustled drunken men from the room, one by one, until only the four of us remained. And then he let himself out, shutting the flap securely behind him.
Holofernes leaned over and whispered something in my Slayer’s ear. Her face colored prettily, but she smiled and said, in a condescending tone I’d never heard from her before, “Ku-Aya, remain where you are until you are called for.” Then the two of them rose, each bearing their flask of wine, and retreated to what I assumed must be Holofernes’s bed chamber.
A sickness began to roil my stomach, but I told it sternly that whatever happened in that chamber was nothing more and nothing less than what my Slayer wished, and if she needed me, she would call me. But she would not need me- warriors do not need scholars in the midst of a battlefield, nor widows their handmaidens in the boudoir.
They were not so far off that I could not hear, faintly, the murmurs and sighs of pleasure, the rustling and jostling of silks and skin. I turned my eyes to the tent’s ceiling and recited a few particularly archaic Egyptian spells to myself in a futile attempt to keep my mind elsewhere. The movements I heard became more frantic, and then- dear stars, it sounded as though they’d torn down the bed curtains in their passion. Now my face burned, and to this day I could not tell you if it was embarrassment, shame, or envy.
And then- silence.
“Ku-Aya,” my Slayer called softly. “Bring us towels.”
My eyes flew open in shock, but I quickly shoved it to one side. I was a maidservant, after all- although she’d never requested such ministrations of me during her husband’s lifetime. I set my jaw and found the towels, wet one with perfumed water, and brought them into the bed chamber. As I’d thought- the bed curtains had been pulled down around them. Holofernes, wrapped contentedly in the hangings, appeared be sleeping already, head burrowed in his pillows. My Slayer, however, sat straight-backed on the other side of the bed, naked but facing away from me. I walked around to her, careful not to trip on any of the strewn covers.
Because I was watching the floor so diligently, I did not at first see what my Slayer held. No, what I saw was a think trickle of blood making its way down her ankle. I felt a surge of rage that she’d been so treated, and as my eyes flew up to her face I did see, at last.
It was a head. The head of Holofernes, those cold eyes now blank with death, was cradled in my Slayer’s lap.
The fingers of her left hand were twined tightly through his black hair, in her right she held, loosely, a curved blade of bronze. Both it and her torso were stained crimson.
“Will you wrap it for me while I clean myself?” she asked softly.
“I- I-” I stammered, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
“It is best done quickly, Ku-Aya,” she said gently, “So that we may be away.”
The realization that we had never been in more danger shocked me back to my senses, and I took a renewed grip on the towels. “Of- of course, my Lady,” I said.
“Thank you. Then place it in the satchel, and help me dress.”
My head was swimming with questions, but I did not ask them. I felt… I felt that, Watcher or not, it was not my place to know. All I needed to know- all the Council needed to know- was that the water demon was dead by decapitation. It mattered not the specific circumstances. I took the head in one of the towels, then wrapped it in another, and did as my Slayer had bade me. She, for her part, cleaned first the sword, and then her body, until she looked no more or less rumpled than one might expect after a night of drinking and… excess. The sword she replaced where it had hung by the head of the bed.
“It’s a pity,” she murmured. “It felt beautiful in my hand.” She gave it a final, loving caress, then turned away, face unreadable.
Once everything was arranged so that no casual observer would take alarm, we removed ourselves from the tent, ignoring the sidelong, knowing glances of the guards. As we had done every night, we walked out into the desert, me with our sack of provisions on my back. No one thought to stop us, just as no one thought to order a chaperone for us. After all, if Holofernes himself had not thought it necessary, why should they?
2.12.2019
Judith Slays Holofernes XXIX
The next three days were much the same- we spent the day sequestered within our tent, sleeping for the most part; the early evening feasting with Holofernes and his men; and the night next to the magicked spring, praying (or in my case, gritting my teeth impatiently). Putting aside the fact that we were surrounded by soldiers who wished to slaughter our town, it was not a wholly unpleasant time. The men of the camp became more friendly towards us, and less suspicious- although they eyed my Slayer with no less lust. I was grateful we had the protection of Holofernes upon us, for I was not certain how well they’d have restrained themselves, otherwise.
But I was not entirely certain how long that protection would last, either. I watched him watching her, and watched his cold eyes slowly warm. Demon he may be, but apparently even he had his mortal appetites. When I tried to warn my Slayer of this on the fourth night beside the spring, she nodded with satisfaction. “Yes,” she said. “It is as I’ve hoped. And I think tomorrow the God of gods will use that to our benefit.”
“Oh excellent,” I muttered to myself as she immersed herself within the wall of water. “I cannot wait to see how we’re to turn rape to salvation.”
When the invitation for that evening’s meal came, there was altogether a different tone to it, on that was more formal, more… expectant. My Slayer smiled and said she would, as always, be honored to sup in the presence of the great Holofernes, and said, shyly, that she had in her possession a bottle of wine- perhaps, if the messanger thought Holofernes would not take offense, she would bring it. The messenger assured her that his master would never take offense at a beautiful woman drinking wine, be it her own or another’s. After the man had gone, my Slayer had me help her with her robes and makeup, preparing herself much as she’d done the night we’d “escaped”. But there was one subtle difference, something that had more to do with her carriage than her adornment; whereas before she had appeared beautiful but distant, like the untouchable stars, there was now an unmistakable invitation about her appearance, one I did not like.
“Stop scowling, Ku-Aya,” she said softly. “You were the one who taught me a Slayer must use every weapon she can lay her hands on.”
I opened my mouth to argue this point, found I could not, and shut it again. And, with great effort, stopped scowling.
I preceded my Slayer into the tent, and found that the wine was already flowing quite freely. It was a smaller gathering than normal, and as I took my accustomed place in the corner I quietly made note of who was in attendance. Only his most favored aides and officers, it seemed, all of whom, when they saw my Slayer, shot Holofernes looks of mingled pleasure and envy.
Once she had seated herself and the servants had poured her wine into a goblet, my Slayer raised it in toast to Holofernes.
“These few cakes and this flask of wine are the last of my provisions, my Lord,” she said, her voice soft and dark as soot. “I trust that by the time I finish them tonight, you will have what is due to you from a servant as humble as I.”
The men cheered at this, and Holofernes did not quite conceal a smirk as he raised his goblet in return. The two of them drank deeply, eyes locked on one another. I saw a small shiver cross my Slayer’s skin, and I wondered at her anticipation. Was it for the kill? Or for another, equally primal urge?
Then again, they say that for a Slayer, the two are intertwined.
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