That's what I tell myself 1995 Writing Started 2001 Six years in mourning, six years in denial, six years in silence. I'll soon know if I'm finally able to write it, or not.
Add four years in darkness while I was mourning my first love, and I've wasted ten years of my life wanting what I'd already been denied. I did so many things in those years that most people would call it life. Not me, I'm not one of those people. I require heart piercing love to be alive. I'm only a shell without it. 4-15-2001 - six years to the day
Here we go, the long avoided story of the end of BB. I miss them so...
When they were here we enjoyed working on our house, turning it into our home through the joint experience of bringing it back to life after 28 years abuse by the brain deads. Together, in the three front bedrooms and bath, we tore out the odd things people had done and repaired the walls. We scraped the popcorn ceilings and gutted the bath, leaving only the bare tub. It took a year of weekends. I found a contractor to spray new popcorn on the ceilings, my attempt was worse than bad. At Paul's Hardware we'd picked 'Rice Paper' as our interior paint color. Tired of waiting, I painted by myself. It was sad doing it alone, but BB were happy with the surprise. They were not shocked like I was when the color looked mildly pink on the walls.
Three bedrooms and one bath done, we started on the master bedroom. I wanted to surprise them with progress and was tearing out the original black tile shower when Greg showed up. He and I did the shower demo. Greg even stuck around for the clean up. I tore out the crappy little sliding glass door that let too much light into a sleeping room, and installed a steel door with a small window.
The intro wasn't too hard, but I fear writing the rest will take weeks and kill me emotionally.
Add four years in darkness while I was mourning my first love, and I've wasted ten years of my life wanting what I'd already been denied. I did so many things in those years that most people would call it life. Not me, I'm not one of those people. I require heart piercing love to be alive. I'm only a shell without it. 2001
Here we go, the long avoided story of the end of BB. I miss them so...
BB were bringing a new bus motorhome, borrowed from Bren's parents.
We planned a month long cross country trip together, starting with a tour of the entire west coast. Basically, we were going to explore our Navy haunts to see how much remained of them and of our old selves. From Seattle we planned to head east all the way to Boston, where we'd shock Bev's parents with 'Us.' Then off to Ohio to do the same with Bren's family, where we'd return the bus and fly home. Out of the closet with their families after twelve years of hiding, BB knew they'd be able to finally start our lives together.
They agreed to call every time they stopped. I got the first call from Bren alone, fueling the bus near her parents farm. Next was a few hours later, a call from both at the airport when Bren picked up Bev. They were so happy to be two women in love starting a cross country adventure together.
They planned a stop in a town about a hundred miles away, to stock up on groceries. That call never came. It was five or six hours and I worried. When the call came they explained. The bus broke down and they had a big adventure as a result. They were some distance from it after hitchhiking to get help with the bus.
Hours later my last communication with the women I love, was full of excitement over their big adventure. The bus was nearly new and not far from the dealer. The dealer agreed to send their service truck in the morning. BB had groceries and were waiting for a taxi back to the bus. They planned a big dinner and had video tape movies to watch that night. Last thing, they promised when the bus was fixed they would immediately stop to call me. I didn't know when it might be but thought it would take at least 24 hours, until late the following afternoon.
I wasn't too worried when they didn't call that afternoon, assuming it was taking time to fix the bus. They'd be comfortable in the bus and they were having fun together. I only wished I was there so we could all share the experience. I have wished I was with them for six years. I died with them either way. Yes I'm fucking crying too hard to continue.
Add four years in darkness while I was mourning my first love, and I've wasted ten years of my life wanting what I'd already been denied. I did so many things in those years that most people would call it life. Not me, I'm not one of those people. I require heart piercing love to be alive. I'm only a shell without it.
2001
Here we go, the long avoided story of the end of BB. I miss them so...
Weeks have passed, let's try again.
I was concerned by the next afternoon, but thought it was better to wait in the bus than hitchhike just to call me. Wanting to surprise BB with progress, I was standing in the middle of the master bedroom, surrounded by tools and materials and remodeling debris, when the phone ran. I had the cordless phone sitting on a pile of stuff in the TV nook I was building. I rushed to answer it. A man introduced himself as a cop from Ohio. I knew, I didn't dare think it, but I knew they were dead. I was overcome with the most horrific sense of loss that I've lived with six years now, and is certain to never leave me. Bye. See you in a few weeks, or never. I might be done.
Weeks later
All eleven of the surviving silent crew carried ICE cards. (In Case of Emergency) Each had their partner listed first, a crew member second and paternal family third. The cop did what's expected and called me first. He was evasive and I instinctively panicked, telling him to get to the fucking point of his call. Standing in our bedroom I heard him say each of their full names followed by the word dead in the next sentence. I quietly listened to the story of how they died. The only important parts are this; it was instantaneous, they didn't see it coming and they were in beds at opposite ends of the bus. The separate beds didn't surprise me. We had never been together in any combination other than all three of us. It bothers me that they each died alone while so close, and it was for me. Fuck. Bye again.
Add four years in darkness while I was mourning my first love, and I've wasted ten years of my life wanting what I'd already been denied. I did so many things in those years that most people would call it life. Not me, I'm not one of those people. I require heart piercing love to be alive. I'm only a shell without it.
I miss them so... 2002
It's been another year and much has finally happened, I think partly because I started writing this. I'm whoring all over the valley looking for a special woman. I'm sort of enjoying reliving my younger years. I can't find anyone near my age with the slightest spark of life remaining. Hard bodied 20 somethings are all the dating sites offer me unless I date women with nothing to offer intellectually. Not complaining, but it's not my goal. I have to get BB out of my heart and off my mind. It's been seven years, I'll never have a life again if I don't find a happy place for them. This writing is my best shot at it.
Let's get it restarted...
I closed the bedroom door and haven't touched it since, seven years. I know it looks the same in there and can't imagine ever seeing it again. The memory is still too fresh in my mind. A white five gallon plastic pail is in the middle of the room, containing I don't know what, it is so vivid in my memory... piled with blue shop towels... 2002? 2003?
Sometime in 1996 I got a call from a prosecutor in Ohio. The truck driver was up for sentencing and the prosecutor was looking for anyone willing to stand up in court, for a victim's impact statement. I told him I wouldn't be able to maintain composure, I'd only make a fool of myself. I emailed him what he called an incredible statement. I presume it was used, but never heard from him again. He promised to let me know the sentence given to the drugged out jackal.
1999 I got a call from a prosecutor in Tennessee. The truck driver got out in no time and skipped out on his parole. He got a license under an assumed name and already repeated what he did to BB, killing parents and their kids. The prosecutor wanted me to go to Tennessee to testify, to finally get the man locked up long term. When I couldn't, he offered facts I didn't know. The truck driver had a very long history of hurting people while DUI, back to when he was sixteen years old. Like the first, this guy didn't do as promised, he didn't tell me the sentence. I only know that he was convicted again. 2005
I put this to bed for three years, it's 2005 now. I think it was 2003 when Lexi began telling me about a boy she knew who lived here. She gave drunken unwelcome graphic descriptions of sex with him, in every room of the house.
I couldn't stop her, she's built like a bull moose and acts like one too. She bulldozed her way through every room while I followed trying to get her to leave. I panicked when she headed for the master bedroom. I screamed no and stop repeatedly as loud as I could. Her drug addled brain registers nothing. The outside of the door was painted along with the hall. Fresh paint for so many years had the door glued shut. I was relieved when it didn't open, but didn't think fast enough. Lexi said the door was locked and without thinking I replied that it was just stuck. She body slammed the door and it opened with a crack from the dried paint breaking loose.
Rushing in she was stalled by the scene inside. Somehow she realized nobody had been in there in a long time. It was eight years. She came to her senses, stopped the bull moose routine, accepted that it was none of her business and got the fuck out of my house.
I closed the door again, intending never to open it. Incredibly, soon after Greg pulled nearly the same stunt. Standing there, he acted as if he had a right to an explanation. I gave him one he didn't like. It's none of your fucking business. 2010
It was put to bed again. It's nine years since starting this. I haven't added to it since 2005. It's 2010 now so I guess it's done.
It did no good. BB still rule my heart alongside Tami and Vicki. Susan is in my life, but I can't figure out if either of us actually loves the other. We have a full life and that's as much as most people ever get.
I often tell myself I'm lucky to have four incredible loves in my heart even if none are in my life. From observing others and discussing it with them, I'm positive that even one true love is uncommon in people's lives.
