Blooming

"Actually maybe you should go to bed at an appropriate time tonight, because you know ... you have the ability to do that, unlike myself. I don't need or want to talk to you when I get home. I actually want absolutely nothing to do with you."

Message sent.

"Why are we even together anymore? Is it just for Mary at this point? That's what it feels like. There's no real camaraderie, there's no affection to fall back on during tough times. There's not even mutual understanding between us. It feels like we've just gotten comfortable with the way things are and are too scared for a change. You once asked me - and I don't remember when or even where - if I was happy with you. Ever since - maybe months or maybe even years since - I haven't stopped thinking "I'm not." I'm not happy with you and maybe I wasn't happy before you but I'm damn sure not happy now. So you want nothing to do with me? I hope you wake up feeling the same way."

... Message sent.

That was the beginning of the end. Or was it the end of the beginning? Fuck do I know? I'm a 30 year old divorcee. I don't even know where I fall on the spectrum of statistical stereotypes. But here I am.

Here I am.

I was somewhere else last night. I was actually in a very different situation just 24 hours ago. Things can escalate very quickly. Almost as quickly as they can be deescalated. It's like when you see a bomb being defused on television and the person doing so is deciding whether to cut the blue wire or the red one. Either one is going to lead to the next step in the process.

A year ago I had just started a new job with a big company. There were plenty of perks like catered meals and shuttles to work. It was a pretty easy job too. The big catch was that it was a temporary position that I would have to flip. I was only guaranteed several months, but I figured I'd at least enjoy those months before moving onto the next thing. Then the coronavirus hit and everything changed.

All the office perks gone. I'd have to start working remotely - from a one bedroom apartment in Los Angeles with my wife and daughter. On some days my brother-in-law, who's been living with us for a couple years, would also be home. I grew up in a one bedroom apartment with six other people. But I was a kid then. Now I was a stressed out adult. Shit started to simmer. And eventually it started to bubble.

I'm the type of person that gets pissed, thinks they can let it go by repressing it and eventually burst out with a bunch of pent up shit. I used to be worse when I drank. But at least then I was social. I wonder if different people would say different things about drunk me. "That dude was fucking awful." I could see a few people say that. "That dude was a fucking party." I could see a few people say that too. Strange how perspective works.

I'm working with another company now. I'm still working from home a year later. Well, now I don't have a home. I did yesterday. But not today. I did the same thing my father did with his family. I gave up and walked away. Even that scumbag outlasted me. But he didn't have to live with his wife in times of coronavirus.

I don't know where I'm going. We're back in New York after we gave up on Los Angeles. Maybe I could go back to Los Angeles. But that's too far. I still want to be a presence in Mary's life. I doubted my ability to be a father the second I found out my wife was pregnant. But I never said anything. Besides I did a great fucking job at it. My daughter loves me. But I wonder if that will change too?

I always said stupid shit to my wife and ended up apologizing for it. "I fucking hate you. You ruined my life. Fuck!" But I don't think I took her for granted. I did the best I could. It's funny. My father probably said the same thing. I used to fucking hate my father. Now I fucking hate myself.

And I don't even want to get into my relationship with my mother.

I'm a mess. I went into quarantine with a shiny new job and the idea that my family would thrive during a few months of staying in. How lucky was I that would get to spend more time with my daughter during her formative years? Apparently, not very lucky.

Or maybe this is a blessing in disguise. Maybe sleeping on a park bench is exactly what I need. Maybe I'll call one of our friends and see if they pick sides. This is going to be a fun conversation. "Yeah, I know it's been like half a year since I last saw you but, boy, have things changed. Remember how I said I wasn't thrilled about working from home? Well, it didn't get better. The arguing increased. The mean shit I said got meaner. The repetitiveness of both work and family life felt too big to bear even in a 3 bedroom apartment. Keep in mind this is a New York apartment, not the biggest."

I wonder if they'd laugh at that last line. I wonder if they'd even listen that much. I don't think I want to find out yet. I think I'll just sleep in the park tonight.

It's starting to get warm again. The flowers and trees are blooming as they welcome the spring. The vaccine has hit the markets and people are buying. Things are in flux. People are moving around the sidewalks, covering the city streets like ants with face masks. I wonder if things will go back to normal.

Or if it's too late.