Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Oh, Be Careful Little Hands What You Dial

I tried at least once to tell myself I would laugh later. Maybe not in days but hopefully in weeks and at at the very least in years. But a woman in a closet sobbing isn't very funny.

Today was a perfect day. I got to drive to work with the top back. Sure, something blew into my eye, but big, dang deal, I had the wind in my hair and, well, who doesn't look good with the top back? And cats, me and my officemate have both had cats as pets. Something in common. She actually laughed with me today and there is a difference. A friend offered to take my oldest daughter to tennis and so I got to go to the gym right after work where some guy actually struck up a conversation with me as I climbed two miles of stairs while dripping with sweat. I love attention. Even when sweating. And then I got to take my youngest daugther to the park where I ran into one, two, three friends and we chatted. We had a wonderful quiet night at home later. We baked brownies. The girls giggled in the tub.

And then I stumbled. The day nearly done and I fell across the finish line. The little one wants to tell Daddy goodnight. I dial. I quickly say, "Emmie wants to tell you goodnight." I hand the phone to the toddler. She says goodnight and gives a kiss. I take the phone and click it off. Wait. What was all that noise in the background? A restaurant? A bar? He doesn't have... friends... Oh... my... God. I dialed the wrong number. I feel the blush begin somewhere around my middle and rush up to my head. I am crimson. I am hot. I dial back. "I am so sorry." He laughs. I tell him it isn't funny. I apologize again and he says he'll call me later. He's on business. Out to dinner. I tell the little one that Daddy didn't hear her and it's my fault and I dail the right number this time.

I tuck in the girls. I read them a book. I sing their songs. I pray their prayers. I walk to my bedroom, into my closet and close the door. I cry for twenty minutes. Great big heaving sobs. Not because I'm embarrassed, but because I should stand between their little hearts and any hurt. She asked for her Daddy and I handed her a stranger. Carelessly. Mistakenly. She smiled and didn't seem to blink any notice. But I know. I'm a poor sentry. I missed this watch.

So he does call after his dinner. He assures me he just thought for a second I was crazy and then he figured it out. He manages to make me laugh. Okay, more like a chuckle. But my eyes don't want to play along as they are still sad. He manages to convice me I'm not the world's worst mother. It's not so much his words, it's the honey and balm in the tenor, it's the warm place his words make for me. And I draw my legs up to fit inside. I lay my head on my knees and rest and listen. Odd, I fell across this phone line, and now it's my lifeline.

7 comments:

realbigwings said...

It's okay to be human and not perfect and feel things and try and mess up and think it's huge and then realize things are okay.

This is what I'm focusing on lately and the difference is miraculous.

* (that's a star for you)

~Dawn

Susan Miller said...

Of course, everything that Dawn says....I always agree with her. And yeah, there's definitely gonna be those "what was I fucking thinking" moments in life. We will laugh at them one day, I promise that, also. Damn, girl. I always seem to think, "Damn" after your posts. You do find lifelines and you do need lifelines and they will come to you in the most extraordinary ways..it is only up to you to welcome them. If my boy is going to be fine then your girls will be even better.

I believe in you, Maleah.

maleah said...

Dawn, I could use a star. Maybe a chart with stars like my girls have on the fridge. I'm so hard on myself. I think so many women are. So many beautiful, perfect, creative women are so hard on themselves. Every time I tell my girls, "it's okay, you did your best," I try and hear it, too, these days. Thank you for another pearl.

Maleah

maleah said...

Susan, Thanks, I take that as high praise. I always love your stuff. Especially about you and Slater and the relationship you have. And truly I have learned about all the support I never knew I had through all of this. I have always been so crazy independent. It is VERY hard, but it feels good and nearly overwhelmingly emotional to see so many of my wonderful friends come to me with their own stories of hurt and to offer to help me in ways that have been just what I needed at just the right time. And, yeah, even a little romance just when I need it, even if it seems nuts.

Maleah

maleah said...

Hey, if Dawn were to drive east and Susan were to drive west, we could have chips and salsa and Margaritas on the patio and listen to Lucinda Williams sing something good...

Susan Miller said...

That sounds incredibly nice. In fact, I've often thought "man, I'd like to sit out on a patio and enjoy a beer with that person while delving into anything" as one of the greatest compliments I or anyone else could give someone.

Thank you for the compliment.

realbigwings said...

I would love it, with our shoes off, talking and listening and looking at the sky.