Chapter Thirteen: Don’t Channel the Gay Man
I spent the next day running errands and trying, once again, to explain to the pugs the difference between grass and rug fiber. You might be surprised how difficult this can be. I had crated them, I had used papers, “Bitter Apple”, spanking with a newspaper. Mandy had consulted a doggie psychologist the month before. The theory was the dogs were rebelling against 1) me being gone so long, 2) the extended kennel or with relatives stays, 3) having to put up with Tyke and Little Leigh’s popularity. I have a headache.
As I cleaned the tile in the bathroom for the fourth time that day (Houston’s favorite spot) I considered what I was about to do. Michael was due to arrive in less than an hour. I had offered to pick him up at the airport but he insisted on renting a car. He wanted to have his own transportation, and though I had offered one of my autos (I explained that I could only drive one at a time) he had declined. Michael seemed to be in independent type.
This lead me back to our conversation pertaining to his past problems dealing with...well, his problems. The same predicament I found myself in, a situation I wanted to alter. I pondered the wisdom of my actions, but as I was a blond with a headache I didn’t let it worry me too much. As usual I had total and complete faith that it would work out, and made damn sure my health and life insurance were paid up.
I finished with the bathroom and went to consider my wardrobe for the following day. Following Cladius’s theory Mike was bringing several outfits for coordination. Should we go blue again? No, as Cladius would say, the blue of the ocean would be enough to highlight our eyes. Red? Of course not! That’s an evening color. Shame on you!
Great, now I’m channeling Cladius. As this could be damaging to my mental health I decided to peruse another activity. It was time to face some more music. Mandy answered on the first ring. It makes me nervous when she does that.
“Hey Mandy.”
“Nick, what the hell took you so long?” Ah. Well. I guess she was expecting a more “I LOVE YOU PLEASE TAKE ME BACK” greeting.
“Well, I was three days over Mom’s due date, and I decided to never tempt the fates by breaking what is obviously my predestined time frame.” Nick logic throws some people for a loop. Then there are those who just feel I’m being a smart ass.
“Did you have to start with one of your smart assed jokes?” I told you.
“I believe you started it with your “hell”, and you know you really shouldn’t say hell. It’s not nice.” I like to fight childishly.
“YOU started it by waiting three days to call me.”
“You started it by refusing to go to Kevin’s wedding with me.”
“You started it by canceling plans we already had because your Mom was throwing guilt trips all over you.”
“You started it by calling my Mom names when I was on the phone and she could HEAR you.”
“You started it by calling me names because I wouldn’t go to your Mom’s with you.”
“You started it by not going to my Mom’s with me.”
Silence. I won! I won! I love the blame game when I win. Mandy really hates it when she looses, which was why I couldn’t hear out of my left ear for the next five minutes. I guess she thinks cussing me out has more impact when done at full volume.
I knew Mandy was really angry with me now. For one she never cusses (at me) unless she is really, really mad, and two, I hung up on her. She hates that. But the rules are clear, the winner gets to end the conversation at their desecration. Anyway the doorbell was ringing.
“Nick!” Michael had seven suitcases. I guess he took the coordinate our wardrobe thing seriously.
“Sorry man, but I had no idea what you were cooking up for the next few days, so I brought lots of stuff.” That’s right, I had invited Mike for the week. No sense in him flying all the way to Florida for just a day or two, and no sense in making AJ nervous for less than five days.
I had just shown Michael to his room when the phone rang. Leaving him with a plethora of hangers and a large walk in closet (a gay man’s dream, he informed me) I took the call in my room.
“Nick? I’m sorry. I was just mad.”
“Mandy...”
“Let’s have lunch tomorrow. We need to talk Nick.”
“I can’t tomorrow, I already have plans.” I couldn’t change them now. Michael had flown all the way here to help me. Michael had died his shirt to match mine. Michael had held my head while I puked. Michael had never called my mother a “controlling skank.” It was a no-brainer.
“You have plans?” I couldn’t tell if she was more surprised or suspicious. “OK. Fine, how about the next day?”
“I’m not sure..”
“I can’t believe this! You canceled plans with me to go kiss up to mommie, but you can’t change plans you aren’t even sure about to talk to me! When I left you wanted to work this out. Do you care about me? Do you care how I feel?”
“Of course! The last time your skin was a little dry.” SHIT. There went that smart mouth of mine. The truth of the matter is Mandy may have a temper and blow-up, but I often provoke it.
“How can you joke! I’m not one of those guys! Do you want to work on our problems? I thought you loved me.”
“I do love you. That’s the problem.” Maybe it was the truth, but it was a cruel thing to say. I hate being cruel. I hate hurting people.
“You bastard!” Yea, that wasn’t a nice thing to say either, but I wasn’t the one crying. I could tell she was trying not to, but I knew her too well.
“Mandy, I’ll call you later, OK? I think we need a day or two to calm down. I call you in a few days and we’ll talk.” I was already calm. I was just avoiding the next phase in “Nick and Mandy break up...wait! No they didn’t.” Maybe the next few days would help me break that cycle. And maybe the earth would start to rotate the other way.
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