I interrupted, “Hold on, did you hear this from A-Train, or from someone else?”
“The Train himself told me,” he responded, lifting his beer mug to his mouth with both hands.
“Okay, sorry Crash, go ahead.”
“Ok, let’s see…anyway, he’s uhm…he’s got a text from her. Says she’s working late. He wonders, because it’s Friday; why ain’t she coming home and going in to the office in the morning. He waits till about 8:00, and he calls her. She answers. He says she says some shit like, hey baby. Now, he said as soon as he heard that, he knew what was up. She never answers the phone like that. You know The Train; he’s all into patterns of behavior and shit. Anyway, he said he asks her a question. He says, so, what are you doing? She says driving, and she sits there, music playing in the background,” Teddy paused for effect, raised one eyebrow, took a slow drink, and put his mug on the table.
“Now, here’s where it gets good. Train says, Okay, here’s the deal, that’s ‘The Weeks’ on the radio. Ain’t no station in town play ‘The Weeks’, and you ain’t got ‘The Weeks’ CD. So, you’re either with Steve, because he’s got the CD, or he’s in your car, and you’re listening to his CD, ” he placed his forearms flat onto the table, leaned forward, and looked me in the eyes as he raised both eyebrows.
“Well, what fucking happened, Teddy?” I asked.
“She starts screaming. Oh my fucking God, he knows were together, and goes apeshit. She tells The Train, Oh, I’m so sorry, and then starts screaming at Steve that she’s sorry, and back at The Train, and the Train says, Do not come home, and she starts screaming, Oh my God, he’s gonna kill us,. And the Train hangs up. Said she called back a few times, and he didn’t answer.” Teddy stood up, wiped his forehead, and looked into the parking lot.
I was afraid of what was next. People get into relationships with another man’s wife, and don’t always consider the repercussions associated with doing so. To them it’s about sex and fun. The woman wants a relationship. The man lies, and tells her what she wants to hear. Sooner or later, people always get hurt. The maintenance of love. If people put the energy into the relationship that they are already in, most could be saved. Teddy turned, and walked back to the table slowly.
“So, Train loads his fucking assault rifle, drives to Steve’s fucking house, and stakes it out. He’s in full fucking gear, flipped the fuck out. Going around the house, setting trip wires and shit. Her car is in the driveway. Sends a message to Steve. Says, ‘If you call the cops, I will at least kill the first two on the scene, we both know that. And you will have the blood of those cops on your hands,’ cause he knows Steve’s a tree hugging Buddhist. Sends both of ‘em a text message. Says, ‘if I see your head pop up in a window, I’m gonna kill ya’. And he goes back to the street, gets in his truck and sits and waits - with night vision goggles on,” Teddy pushed his palms down on the table, and straightened his arms, pressing his massive chest outward.
“Well, what happened? Jesus, Teddy.”
“He sat there three fucking days. From Friday night till Monday night. Nobody came out, nobody moved. Doubt if anybody slept. Steve says he sure didn’t. Said the adrenaline and such, plus no sleep and no shower had him smelling like a wet monkey. Said he smoked six packs of cigarettes. Took six packs. Said when he smoked the last one, he started the truck, and sent a text, and said, ‘It’s over. I don’t care what you do, I’m done,’ Teddy stopped, and exhausted the breath from his lungs in an exaggerated fashion.
“Well, what’s happened since?” I asked, wondering what became of Steve, A-Train’s wife, and A-Train himself.
“Well, you know The Train. Strange fucker right there. He just lets go. He says, fine, fuck it. No big deal. He files divorce paperwork the next day. Say, Tuesday. And then calls Steve, and says he wants to meet. Steve says fuck no, calling the Train crazy. And Train says, dude, you fucked my wife, you owe me this. Steve is scared it’s a trap, and don’t wanna meet. Train convinces him it ain’t a trap, tells him he will meet in a pair of shorts, and flip-flops, with no shirt – to prove he ain’t packing. Crazy bastard. And he said Steve agreed. So, he meets him at that coffee shop up the street here. Rides his fucking chopper. In God damned shorts, no shirt, and fucking flip-flops. He gets off, stands out front, and waits for Steve. Steve pulls up, walks up to Train, and asks what he wants. Train shakes his hand. Tells him, sorry for the grief I put you through at the house, it was uncalled for. And then tells him good luck….and he gets on his bike and leaves. In flip-flops and fucking shorts,” Teddy slapped the table with his hands as he finished the sentence.
“So, is that it?” I asked.
“Well, ain’t that enough?” Teddy responded, raising his eyebrows and grabbing the handle on his beer mug.
“Yeah, just wasn’t sure if you were done. Damn. Yeah, A-Trains a piece of work, that’s for sure.
“Well, that’s all I got. That’s all that’s happened. That and fucking Heather,” Teddy said.
“Well, you know, it’s a damn shame about Train. Kelli and I were talking about this just the other day. People don’t ever put into a relationship what they need to maintain it. Trains wife could have been happy with him forever; he’s a damn good dude. But, she decided to stray, and get some cock somewhere else. Probably thought it would never amount to anything but getting some stray cock. And, once they start screwing around, they never stop. And, it never ends well, no matter what,” I shook my head and took a drink of water.
“So what are you and Kelli gonna do? I mean, you two gonna be in it for the long haul?” Teddy asked as he looked into his empty beer mug as if it really wasn’t empty.
“Well, I don’t know for sure. She is so much different, to me, than anyone I have ever been around. I don’t know how much of it is her, how much is me, and how much is just because of the timing or whatever. I guess it doesn’t really matter. She does for me what I always have thought a girl never could. She makes me want her. She makes me want to be with no one else, ever. She actually makes me stop even thinking about other women,” I realized as I spoke about her how much she meant to me.
“Yeah but you’re a fucking weirdo about that house. Your mom’s house. You don’t really let people in it, do you? You still like that, Doc?” Teddy asked.
“Well, I haven’t, no. You know, I grew up in that house. Then, off to college for what, twelve years? And then came home, and mom was killed. She and I are the only two that have ever lived there. It’s tough to think about someone else in that house.” I responded, feeling almost offended that he had asked.
“Doc, maybe it’s time you let go. You know we all have talked about it. Your mom and all. You always been a tough fucker. In school, now. Hell, you grew up as a kid and was the man of the house. Damn, I always admired you for that. Never really knew you real well till after high school, but, knew of you. But, after your mom passed, you just let go of making any kind of progress in life. You just stopped,” Teddy stood as he finished talking, and began to pace back and forth.
“Keep talking, if you have something to say,” I said, realizing he was uneasy.
“Well, you don’t let people in that house. You run around fucking girls and not ever getting close to them. When they like ya, you ditch ‘em. Hell you tie ‘em up, slap ‘em, beat ‘em, and all that crazy shit you’re in to. And they agree. You really think they are agreeing to do all of that because they just like it? Hell no, they ain’t. They’re agreeing to it because they wanna make you like ‘em, Doc. Fuck, I ain’t even a shrink, and I know that. You know it too, you just tell yourself otherwise. You’re a fucking doctor, for Christ’s sake. And you’re a doctor for the brain and all that shit. Knowing how a person’s mind works. If anyone knows what people are thinking or ought to be thinking, it should be you. We all just want you back, Doc. We want you happy,” Teddy stopped pacing as he finished speaking, and looked me in the eyes.
I stood, put my hands in my pockets, and thought. Kelli was, to me, different. I actually
not only enjoyed my time with her, but looked forward to it. She was a person that I felt as if I could spend time with and never reach a point that I didn’t want her around. Having her live in the house with me was a totally separate issue.
“Brother, I am making progress. I think this girl is a good thing for me. Let’s see what happens with her. These things, these changes…they take time,” I said, actually believing what I told him.
“Well, let’s do this. Let’s take the girls on Saturday’s poker run. Heather and baby girl. Let’s take ‘em with us,” Teddy said as he stopped pacing and looked me in the eyes again.
“Are you fucking serious?” I asked, offended that he even suggested it.
“Yeah, dead serious. If you’re serious about her, bring her around the fella’s. Introduce her to the club. I’m taking Heather anyway, we already discussed it. If you won’t bring her and show her off to the fella’s, you ain’t serious. So, you gonna bring her,” he asked, both eyebrows raised, his hands raised in the air.
“You’re talking Heather?”
“Yup.”
“On the poker run?”
“Yup.”
I pulled my hands from my pockets, and picked up my glass of water. Holding it, I stood and thought. Bringing a girl around the bike club was a huge step. An introduction of her to the fella’s was an acceptance of sorts. Acceptance of the girl by her male counterpart, and acceptance, immediately, by the club. Bringing random women around the club - the entire club, was not something that was done, allowed, or accepted. I stood and thought about Kelli, and the discussion we had at the coffee shop about love.
“The answer ain’t in that water cup, Doc,” Teddy said, chuckling.
“Fuck it. Fine, I’ll talk to her,” I responded.
“Bring her, god damn it,” Teddy said.
“I’ll talk to her about it,” I responded, taking a drink.
“Tell her, don’t ask her.”
“Alright.”
“So, you bringing her?”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“Shake on it. Shake on it, Doc.”
I walked around the corner of the table, and met Teddy half way around the table, arm extended. As we shook hands, he pulled me into him and gave me a hug, patting me on the back.
“Love ya, brother,” he said as he hugged me.
“Thanks brother, for everything,” I responded.
ERIK. I finished my workout, and sat at the end of the weight bench. I stood, and walked into the living room of the house. This house, for the last thirty-five years, remained unchanged. I thought of my discussion with Kelli about Freud and Jung. Psychosexual development. I stood, looking around the house, and thought.
As a boy, I struggled for acceptance from my mother, and in the absence of a father, became my own father. I accepted myself as being able, always being considerate and sensitive of my mother and her needs.
I communicated my feelings to my mother, and although she accepted my feelings, she never accepted me as that fatherly figure. She loved my father, and never accepted his untimely death. She never remarried or dated. She was unable to accept me as that fatherly figure, and unable to accept me as a child, her child. I was raised by my mother and never accepted as her child, and never accepted as the fatherly figure I tried so hard to develop.
I struggled for possession of my mother, and she struggled for acceptance of me becoming the fatherly figure. And neither came. We are a product of our exposure in life. Our parents are the largest part of life, as children, that we become exposed to. Their involvement or lack of involvement, in our upbringing, alters who we become. Who we are for the rest of our lives.
I stood at the door of her room. Looking in at the room, it appeared the way it had for my entire childhood. The bed was still made with her favorite comforter. The photograph of my father remained on the dresser.
I stood in realization, as I looked at the photograph, that although my mother never accepted me as that fatherly figure, she accepted me as her partner. Her partner in life. Her soul mate. Her significant other.
I stood and stared. And thought. The reality hit me. Although I never accepted my mother as being enough, for not being a mother and a father, she accepted me as being her child and her husband.
And I cried.
ERIK. I couldn’t change who I had become, or who I was. I could, however, accept it and embrace it. Honesty, realization, and acceptance are the three steps that are required to allow us to work through our character defects.
If we exhibit certain traits, characteristics, or behaviors that are inherent to who we are, we must be honest, admit it, realize that it is so, and accept it as being part of who we are. This honesty, realization, and acceptance allow us to make adjustments in our life. Having this understanding to be who we truly are allows us to embrace it, accept it, and live a healthy life. Denial leads to an otherwise miserable existence.
In taking my own personal inventory, and being truly honest - I realized, and now was trying to accept, that I had developed through my psychosexual developmental stages, into a person that wanted to take out my frustrations, unresolved issues, and lack of acceptance of my mother, as a whole, in my sexual partners. This was part of who I was, and was not going to change.
I can be in a healthy relationship, I am certain of that. I am not a violent person. No one, in a relationship with me, would be subject to harm. But, it is important for me to know what it is that I would require of a partner. It is of further importance that I bring it to the attention of my potential partner, and get her acceptance of my desires as being part of what she wants, desires, or requires of me.
I looked up at the disco ball, took a drink of my coffee, and realized; I am not broken, I am an individual.
I grabbed my phone and sent Kelli a text:
Baby Girl: What are you going to do when I tell you to do something?
I placed my phone on the table, and took a drink of coffee. The phone beeped. I picked it up, and looked at the screen.
Baby Girl: Do it, and smile.
I read the text and smiled. I typed another text, and pressed send.
Baby Girl: What are you willing to do for me? To make me happy?
I held the phone in my hand, and turned toward Warren. He looked up from the espresso machine. Warren knew who he was. No different than Kelli or I, he enjoyed pleasing others. By serving them the best coffee in town. He embraced his inner being, and loved who he was. He returned the smile.
The phone beeped.
Baby Girl: Whatever you tell me to, Big Daddy. I will do anything for you to make you happy. ANYTHING.
I typed one last message, and pressed send.
Baby Girl: I own you, Baby Girl. I own you, and I am proud. Know that.
The phone immediately beeped. I looked at the screen.
Baby Girl: :)
I read the message and smiled. Warren looked at me and smiled.
“What are you smiling about, Erik?” Warren asked.
“Oh, this girl I’ve been seeing,” I responded.
“Baby girl?”
“Yes, baby girl,” I responded, smiling.
“What about her?”
“Well, just trying to decide what to do with her, Warren,” I responded, looking at my phone.
“Do with her what you do with all the girls, Erik.”
“I’m thinking not, Warren…not with this one…” I responded.
KELLI. My lease agreement was up in two weeks. As always, I had procrastinated as long as I could to consider moving out, making arrangements to move, and getting ready for grad school. I needed to make a decision about grad school, and I needed to do it now. I know my father would just die if I didn’t go to school and take over the family dealership. I didn’t want to disappoint him, and I didn’t want him to be upset with a decision I had made.
I feel like Erik and I can be in a relationship and make it work if he would consider it. I know we won’t ever be in a relationship if I go to
grad school at Columbia. He wouldn’t be able to, nor would I expect him to wait.
So much has changed this summer. I have spent my entire life, sexually, needing no one. I have always felt like I could just roam from one man to another, using them for what I wanted from them, and that want was sex.
I have always said, being single is smarter than being in the wrong relationship.
Being with Erik wasn’t wrong. What I want a man to provide me isn’t typical of a woman. I know now, after talking to Erik in the coffee shop, that I am not broken. I am not weird, or strange. There is nothing wrong with me. I am just me, and I need to accept myself for who I am. I need a man to sexually treat me the way I like to be treated without exposing myself to the dangers of abuse. When I find that man, I need to hold onto him like he is my means of survival, because he will be.
Erik Ead is that man.
When I was a little girl, my dad would sleep with me. I held his finger in my hand. I didn’t hold it because he was my dad, I held it because it gave me an assurance that he was there, and that he loved me. I told myself that as long as I had his finger in my hand, we were connected, and that he loved me. I never told him why I held it. I kept it a secret.
When I would wake up in the middle of the night, sometimes it would be gone. I would reach around in the dark and find it, and grip it in my hand. Squeezing his finger was my way of telling him I loved him, and knowing that he loved me.
I thought about it, and I wanted to talk to my dad, and I wanted to talk to Erik. I owed it to my father to talk to him about this, and to Erik. I opened my text screen and scrolled to Erik’s name, and typed him a text.
ERIK EAD: Part of me has been missing my entire life. I have lived with a void in my soul. You fill that void, and you fill it perfectly. I love you, and I don’t want to lose you. Life without you in it is not living. I need you in my life to survive.
I read what I had typed. Love. We had not discussed love. Erik was a very deep person, and although he had a very sensitive side, and could be very caring, he was not one to be pressured into anything. In fact, he had proven many times through what he had done, and stories that he had told, that he would walk away before he would allow anyone tell him or try to convince him to do anything.
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