The Leaves Were On Fire Too

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. Everything was vibrant and alive. She followed me out, fumbled her jacket and umbrella. Shereached for my hand, but the gesture felt forced and I quickly snatched my hand away and shoved it in my pocket. I tried to take a James Dean posture or at least look like the cover of a Dylan album, but at my age and this face it just made me look like an old hunchback or like Gollum.

The conversation inside didn't go as she planned. I know she was only trying to make me feel better, but as usual it was on her terms and on her playing field. I hate these places and I could care less that the tea was a new pumpkin spiced brown sugar squirrel in a sweater whatever.

She looked beautiful in her mask. I almost prefer her this way. I like the mystery of her face.

She steeped her tea and unfortunately began to speak.

"Why don't you just call the front desk and ask them what the rules are?"

"I'd rather just call my Aunt and get the information that way"

"But why not just call th...."

"Because I don't really want to know. I don't really want to visit. If I call the desk then it's .... I don't want any of this"

I turned away and looked out the window. The weather fit my mood. Everyone looked like cotton Ninjas in their hoodies and masks as they jumped from their cars and ran towards various doors trying not to get wet. I could feel my eyes welling up. Sadness and anger were grappling for top position. I was glad that anger won.

She's ex-military. That combined with a Hiroshima divorce and custody battle has shaped the way she deals with feelings and situations. I admire it at times. This isn't one of those times.

I adjust my legs and the table shakes. Her tea stays in the cup. I flick the lid towards her.

"Amy didn't deserve any of this. It should have been someone else ... and why can't you keep your gaddam lid on?"

I'd like nothing more than to turn this into a fight and the lid seemed like a golden opportunity.

She unlooped the strap from one ear, raised the cup, blew on it and our fight, then took a sip.

"I know how you feel about Amy. I'm going through something similar with my dad and ...."

Perfect. She got sidetracked into her own issues and I encouragingly listened. This would go on for a while. I hoped it would continue until the weather changed so I could go outside and get out of here.

It continued, then it took the inevitable turn towards me.

"...and what happens if this happens you? You don't have health insu ..."

"I have health insura...."

"I'm not going to take care of you. I'm all done taking care of ...."

"Whoa. I'm not asking you to take...."

"...cuz I'm not doing it. And you don't make enough money to..."

We always wind up here. I could come home and tell her that the doctor said I had an inoperable brain tumor made up of super cancer. The kind of cancer that cancer gets and somehow it would come back to the fact that I don't make a lot of money.

"...I know you love it, but seriously, would anyone in your family live this way? Do you think your mother or aunt would? I don't think so! Do you think for a minute that ..."

Our eyes meet when we got to the chorus about how Amy would never live this way.

It got quiet.

I looked out the window and noticed a line forming at the Urgent Care next door. Everyone standing under the awning shuffling uncomfortably and trying not to get dripped on. No one is 6 feet apart. There's always one hippy girl that decides to start dancing in puddles. Trying to be free. Normally I find them really cute even if their full of crap. This one I disliked immediately. This one is twirling and splashing and her fake happiness and 'look-at-me' independence is muzzled by her stupid tie-dyed mask.

The mist. The air. Everything and everyone (even the hippy chick) are just grey.

The talking continued. The tone was becoming more compassionate which I'm sure would be short lived.

I watched as the hippy chick attempted to wave her arms seductively at her boyfriend. His eyes are glued to his phone. The crowd is indifferent with her dancing. Their attention is on their own screens.

She is slowing down and seems beaten. Defeated. She sees me looking at her and for a moment there's a glimmer of hope that she has meaning. That her freedom of expressive movement matters.

I wipe my nose and look away.

"Wasn't this supposed to be you cheering me up or something?"

"I know. I know. I'm sorry, but ..."

It's always 'but', like that excuses all the bile and resentment meant for so many others. I laugh at how I don't make enough money yet I've been picking up the tab of others for years.

"What's so funny?"

I contort my mouth and eyebrows as if I'm trying to explain myself with interpretive face dancing.

I turned towards the window again. I was done and I wanted to go. Umbrellas were closedand hoods were dangling on the backs of necks. No more running from cars to stores. The hippy's boyfriend finally looked up and his eyes relayed his annoyance that once again his girlfriend was standing in a puddle.

The sun was finally out.

"I'm all done" I said and just got up.

"Wait. Please!"

There's something about a woman's pleading eyes that just owns you in the most welcoming way. I sat back down. My leg hit the table and this time some tea spilled. I took at as a sign that the tea was on my side. I took it as a sign of victory.

"There's nothing you can say here. I don't want to move on from THIS. I don't want to feel better. I WANT to be angry. I'm tired of everyone trying to help me feel better. Move on. I don't want to feel better! I don't want to MOVE ON! And I know that's messed up, and I don't care! I'm embracing that and right now I love how it makes me feel. I'm bitter. I'm angry and EVERYTHING is vibrant and alive!"

"Wait. Please stop. Don't go..."

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire.