mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- getting it He has called on the phone before, but not like this. He has shown up on our doorstep at strange hours, sometimes to see my sister, sometimes with plastic bags of laundry, sometimes because he was hungry and had no money for food. I have always avoided him like the plague, found a reason to lock myself in my bedroom or hang up the phone. I have spent the past ten years first in utter fear that he would come back and then, not thinking of him at all. For five years after the divorce I had nightmares that my mother would let him move back in, strange dreams where I came home to find that he had transformed my family into alligators or lions or wolves, David fucking Friedman the leader, chasing me down and licking his teeth. He called for my sister today and when I told him she wasn't home he began to ask me questions about my life, sad old man, sounded high or brain-damaged or both, weak and senile and I thought, the last time I spoke to you I was begging you not to hurt my mother. The last time I looked into your eyes was when the police led you out the front door in handcuffs. He said he heard that I was driving, asked where I was working these days and I wanted to say, you motherfucker, I still hate you. But I couldn't, because his life has caught up with him. He is lonely and sad and addicted and crazy. He got his. 7:09 p.m. - 2007-06-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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