November 11, 2001
Fucked Up #2
Only Kelsi and I would be up at one o'clock in the morning, eating soft tortillas and drinking our prospective doctor pepper and orange juice.
Back from her house and to bed today. I don't know why but I feel all gross. And Ryan's phone call didn't make me feel any better.
I was mid-dinner when he called. So I finished chewing and managed to choke out a hello. He was in a bowling alley on base, his family was still there. Which translated to me as, had I gone with them, I would still be there. With him.
It was hard to talk to him this time. I guess I've been waiting so long for him to call that when he finally did it wasn't quite what I'd expected.
And I can't go see him at Thanksgiving. He isn't allowed visitors until six weeks after he is at the tech school base. Not like it matters. He really didn't seem that disappointed anyway.
I wonder if he even wanted to see me.
I wonder why he didn't call me earlier.
I wonder if he just told me he loved me because he's supposed to.
I wonder if I'll melt from my own tears before I see him again.
His letter yesterday was a blessing and a curse. He sent me a picture of him in his dress blues, which I jointly drooled/wept all over; but in addition to that was the news about his tech school. It starts on December 18th.
It ends in May.
Which means that I will see him at Christmas for, O, the three days when he isn't in Atlanta Fucking Georgia, and perhaps I'll see him during my spring break.
It's not like I need him to survive or anything.
I'm sure I'll be fine. I mean, look at me now.
Jill drops to the floor, lost in a seizure or a sob, her hair uncombed, her eyes wild, her face stained by the day's tears. She begins to foam at the mouth.
As usual, no one pays her the least bit of attention.
astera at 5:25 p.m.