Psycho Bitch: A Love Story

by AJ Rico

  Me: Not really.

  Them: Why?

  Me: I'm a private person. I need to know you better before I'm comfortable sharing.

  The above is my standard answer. People accept this and let it go. It makes sense and they can wrap their minds around wanting to be comfortable with someone you're sharing bits of yourself with. It's also 100% truthful. No telltale tags of lying or other body language that make people question what you say. However, I've just misled them completely.

  The honest answer is I don't share with people as a general rule, even if I know you well. I have no trust whatsoever that you won't take the information I give you and deliberately use it against me, leaving me feeling like an ass and a fool for giving up that key to my psyche when I've been taught repeatedly exactly how risky that is. If I am sharing anything with you beyond the superficial, you've done something remarkable to get me to trust you. Period.

  Now, does the average person even deserve that answer? No, they don't. It's none of their business, but this is what I mean about the difference between truth and honesty. The truthful answer is just a set of facts; the honest answer gives you understanding. Most people don't want to expose themselves that way.

  Generalizing completely, I find that people are generally truthful and rarely honest. Some people don't want your honesty or even understand the difference. However, when someone says to me, "I need you to be truthful with me," that's my comfort zone.

  I go out of my way to be truthful as often as possible. Lying requires too much energy. And, here's another bit of wisdom I've acquired recently … every time you lie you're sending a message to your brain that your truth is not good enough. You demean yourself every time you tell a lie.

  Anyway, getting back on topic, I will be truthful with no hesitation whatsoever. However, those rare people that have said, "I need you to be honest with me," my answer is always, "that depends on what you ask me."

  Today, this lesson, which I've always understood logically, was driven home for me. I was volunteering my honesty to my friend. I knew the risks and I did it anyway. That she accepted my honesty was a gift.

  My truth has been a weapon I used liberally, but my honesty was something that I've rarely offered. I confessed my secrets today with full honesty. With my other friend, I was only being truthful. That was a life lesson in action.

  I still think not everyone deserves full honesty. We are all entitled to our privacy, but those you wish to be close to should have your honesty. If you can't be honest, then you should look elsewhere for your friends.

  At least I will be from now on.

  10. When You Least Expect It

  TWO DAYS LATER, I PACED the length of Rosa's apartment as she prepared for her date. I had that old and all too familiar restlessness. Nobody bothers to tell you that the real work comes not in making a decision to be different but in sticking to it.

  I hadn't fallen back into old patterns … yet. But, I admit, the temptation was strong. My skin felt too tight, my mind wandered, and I had a hard time focusing. When I tried to concentrate on work, I found myself clicking into my email or checking my blog for comments. Secretly, I knew I was looking for Henry. And just as secretly, I refused to acknowledge my disappointment every time there was nothing from him.

  My online friends were wonderful and I'd been immersing myself in their lives rather than writing about my own. I'd texted with SmallTownGirl, whom I now knew was Julie. She was a surprising lifeline in helping me to continue moving forward.

  My real-life friends were even better. G and Louis had taken me out for dinner to get my mind off of things. They didn't know the details, but they knew it involved a man. I'd had lunch with Greg Haldane to celebrate the impending launch of the redesign. I even had several referrals off the back of that work.

  In all ways, my life was on the upswing. I had friends. My business was growing. I'd met the love of my life who was currently snoring on Rosa's sofa. So, why did I feel so hollow? Why did I feel alone in a sea of love and caring around me?

  I was beginning to feel grasping and needy and that scared me. When I felt like that, I tended to do stupid, self-destructive things. Quelling this feeling usually led me to men. Conquest was a way of self-medicating.

  That wasn't going to work this time. I'd discovered something better. I had my new battery-operated boyfriend to handle that rather than seeking out hollow sex.

  Part of the problem was not having closure with Henry. Not knowing why he'd rejected me. I mean, I knew why. A history like mine would put a good number of people off. But, I didn't know what in particular made him reject me. He'd accepted my relationship with Adam. He'd accepted my floundering through our friendship. Why did a few more details matter?

  I stopped mid-step as it hit me … I had trusted him and he had disappointed me and … damn it … it hurt. End of story. I hurt and I wanted not to hurt.

  I sighed and Hugo roused himself to look at me. I smiled and knelt beside him, scratching him along his flanks and laying my head on his side. He gave me one of his special licks and settled himself back down.

  Hugo never disappointed me.

  "Well?" Rosa's voice was breathy and trembled, but she looked amazing and I told her so.

  "Why are you so nervous?” I asked. “You’re gonna knock his socks off. I guarantee it."

  She scrutinized herself in the mirror, fussing with her hair, contorting to check the seams of her stockings.

  "So, does he warrant sexy panties or are we going with granny panties to resist him?"

  I grinned as she flushed and swatted at me. "I am a grandmother, for goodness sakes, what a question."

  "That means sexy panties."

  She laughed and swatted me again, but I just giggled. I hoped he was a good man. In fact, that was one of the reasons I was here. I had insisted on meeting this man and giving him the Hugo test.

  After the way Hugo had been with Louis, I had assumed he was a dog who would love everyone. He seemed to be willing to accept anyone who would pet him. I had completely written him off as any kind of guard dog. Gloria cemented that notion when she told me of the pit bull breeders who used American bulldogs to guard the kennels. She had said the pit bulls were too likely to go off with anyone who was nice to them.

  However, dog trainers across the world will tell you that dogs read energy. That's why Gloria was always telling me to stay calm, but be assertive with Hugo in order for him to respect me. I had no idea what she meant until one day Hugo gave me a first-hand demonstration.

  We were leaving the park. Nothing out of the ordinary. For once, it was just Hugo and me. G's schedule meant that we weren't seeing him as much anymore since he was working nights. Rosa had been at a church retreat, so we'd been alone.

  As we walked down the street, a young man was coming toward us. He wore athletic clothes and was listening to something from the telltale cords hanging from his ears. To look at him, he was unremarkable. Average everything. He wasn’t someone you would pick out of a crowd, nor would you remember him later. The only reason he became significant to me was because of Hugo.

  When we were less than a city block length apart, a change came over Hugo the likes of which I had never seen before. He placed his body in front of me moving so fast I almost tripped over him. He was rigid from head to toe, his ears so flat against his skull they almost disappeared. His tail was arrow straight and a soft growl emanated from him.

  The man seemed not to notice, intent on whatever was being fed into his brain. He walked with the hunched slouch of those intent on blending in and nothing about his posture changed as he neared us. In fact, he moved closer to the buildings outlining the street and gave me and Hugo a wider berth.

  Hugo's growling increased, becoming a physical thing that vibrated along my legs where he pressed himself with increasing strength. As the man drew abreast of us, he looked at Hugo, his expression never changing. Just as he passed us, his eyes met mine. It was the briefest of glanc
es and it was the emptiest stare I had ever seen. I went cold deep under my skin.

  Hugo didn't relent. He turned his body, forcing me to turn with him, until the man was once more in front of us. Hugo remained immobile, tension vibrating out of him, until the man had disappeared from sight.

  Then, it was almost as if Hugo melted. Everything drooped and he gave himself an immense shake and looked up at me as if to say, "It's okay now."

  Kneeling, I gave him a hug and scratched him in all the places he loved before continuing the rest of the way home. Now, I understood.

  As a result, Javier Mendez, local business man and church deacon, was going to be tested. I wasn't letting Rosa go out without him getting the once over. She'd laughed when I told her and she tried to put me off, but I had been tenacious. Finally, she'd relented, but I knew she was just humoring me.

  As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Rosa hurried over and checked the peephole before opening the door.

  "Hola," she said as she stepped aside and let Javier into her apartment.

  "Hola," he replied as he took in her appearance with obvious appreciation causing her to blush.

  As Rosa made the requisite introductions, Hugo ambled over to Javier and began to sniff him. Javier ignored him and continued to talk with both Rosa and I. Only after Hugo returned to his spot on the sofa did he say, "Did I pass the test?"

  I blushed a little then and Rosa laughed, but I was the one who said, "Hugo gives you a check mark, but I still am going to be looking out for Rosa."

  He smiled and earned points with me when he said, "I recently adopted a bulldog for my daughter, Mercedes. I told her it was dangerous for a young woman to live alone with no one. I wanted her to have a dog. They're good judges of people."

  I nodded saying, "Yes, they are."

  After a few more moments of chit chat, I waved them out promising to lock up after I'd tended to Señor. I hadn't let Rosa do it, because I didn't want her smelling like cat food before her big date. I put out food, cleaned the litter box, and checked to ensure all her windows were secure before locking up behind us as we left. As I shut the door behind us, I couldn't help but notice the chipped paint and cracking plaster. In that moment, I knew exactly how I was going to channel this restlessness.

  * * *

  It took a week and multiple phone calls, but in the end, the landlord had agreed to provide all the necessary supplies. Of course, he stipulated he wouldn't pay for any labor or pro-rate anyone's rent. It was more than I had expected, I'd have been willing to settle for him just buying the paint. So, exactly two weeks later, I was standing outside taking delivery of paint, several paint sprayers, tarps, tape, and a whole host of other supplies.

  I'd explained my idea to G and Rosa and they'd been all for it. We each loved our little building and the family that we'd found there, but hated how run down it looked, especially as the neighborhood around us was coming to life. They'd even agreed to recruit people to help. Rosa had gone so far as to agree to cook.

  It was going to be one hell of a party. As I organized the paint supplies in preparation for the day, I felt a tremor of excitement. I was actually looking forward to this. It was going to be tedious, grimy work, of that I was sure, but I was loving seeing my idea come to fruition. More importantly, I had only fleeting thoughts of Henry in the last two weeks.

  Taking a look around, we were as ready to go as we were going to be. G and I had already spackled the various cracks and supervised the power washing of the exterior. We'd washed the walls, taped off the baseboards and ceilings, and laid tarps. The hallway was ready to go. Outside we still had more prep to do, but all things told, we were looking good.

  Wonderful, delicious aromas were filtering out of Rosa's apartment and my stomach growled. When I'd told Rosa I'd been planning on ordering in some pizza she'd scoffed and told me that junk food wouldn't be served at any party, even a painting party, that she was a part of. She'd assured me that she'd take care of everything. And she had. She'd requested thirty dollars apiece from me and G and told us not to worry.

  As I made one final survey of the supplies, checking off my to-do list, I heard the putt-putt of a small vehicle and strains of Lana Del Ray behind me. Turning, I met the enthusiastic smile of Gloria who'd agreed to watch Hugo for me, so I wouldn't have to keep him locked up in the apartment.

  I'd tried to find a doggy day care in the area where I could place him for the day, but none of the facilities I could afford were willing to accept pit bulls. A fact which had both angered and enervated me. I was finding this doing-good-deeds thing to be even more satisfying than the self-medicating I'd done through sex. I knew what my next task was going to be once we'd fixed up our building. I was joining the mission to change the perception of pit bulls.

  Gloria had given me the names of some advocacy groups to contact. As for Hugo, he was going to spend his time with her pack of Pomeranians. I had a feeling he was going to love it.

  I greeted Gloria and left her discussing the ins and outs of folk music with G, who was clearly enamored with her while I went to get Hugo. After he was safely strapped in and on his way with his nose sticking out the window and his ears flapping in the wind, I turned my attention back to the task at hand.

  People were arriving in dribs and drabs. G had managed to get several of his college friends to come. I admit, it was a nice bit of eye candy to have on hand with their youthful fitness and unaffected sex appeal.

  For all their lean-muscled bodies, and the unabashed flirting of at least one of them, I was strangely unmoved by it all. They were too young, too brash, and just too everything. But, mostly, they didn't have the kind eyes and a bottomless laugh that I still missed in my quiet moments. And, it didn't help that they had a disturbing tendency to call me ma'am.

  After I'd corralled the boys into taping off window panes and door frames, Rosa's contingent arrived led by Javier. He brought along several church members with him and his daughter Mercedes whom he introduced to Rosa. It was a pleasant surprise to find out that Javier owned a house painting company. I relinquished control to those with superior knowledge and went to help Rosa with the food.

  The church group had brought along several folding tables which we set up on the sidewalk. The ladies soon had them covered them with disposable table cloths, and stacked them with beer, soda, and water.

  Rosa had plenty of help with the feast she was making, so I pitched in wherever Javier told me to. I enjoyed working alongside a merry group of people who were all set on achieving the same goal. G and his friends joked and traded punch lines, while Rosa and her friends cooked and pampered those of us doing the physical labor.

  In the midst of it all, it occurred to me that I was the only one who didn't have outside friends. G and Rosa were my people, but I didn't feel out of place. If anything, I felt like I'd been welcomed into an extended family. A feeling made even more real when Louis showed up with his new girlfriend. She was a traffic cop who was as smooth and svelte as Louis was lumpy, but I liked her immediately. She held nothing back and it was nice to not be the only one who sometimes spoke her mind a little too freely.

  We'd been painting for several hours when Rosa called a halt and said the food was ready. We lined up and filled our plates with tamales, empanadas, and other Mexican favorites that tasted like heaven.

  I had just shoved the last bite of the most amazing guacamole I'd ever eaten in my mouth when G nodded in the direction over my shoulder and said, "Who's that?"

  Turning, I almost choked when I saw the top of a silver head exiting a yellow cab. I sucked down several swallows of water as panic washed over me. It couldn't be. But, yes, it was indeed Henry who stood on the sidewalk in front of my building.

  I had imagined the moment I saw him again many times over the last weeks. In all of them, I'm dressed to kill and prepared to remain cool and unaffected by his presence. What I am not is dressed in ratty jeans, a faded T-shirt with a ripped pocket over one breast, and
covered in paint splatters because I didn't check the nozzle on the sprayer before I turned it on.

  I didn't answer G's question as I rose and moved to where Henry stood surveying the laughing and chattering crowd outside of my building. He smiled when he caught sight of me and my heart stuttered. His eyes were still bottomless, but the rest of him had undergone an unkind transformation.

  He looked gaunt and washed out. His hair was too long and in need of a trim. He'd lost at least ten pounds and he looked exhausted.

  Standing in front of him, I said the first thing that came to my mind, "You look like hell."

  "Yes, quite right, I'm sure," he laughed and the joyful sound had a faded quality. Despite all my resolutions to remain unaffected, I felt myself melting as I had the overwhelming urge to take him upstairs, wrap him in a blanket, and feed him until he looked healthy again.

  My thoughts spiraled as I bit back the questions pounding my brain. Where had he been? Why was he here? How did he know where to find me? What about my email?

  "… pneumonia will do that to you."

  That caught my attention, drawing me out of my speculations.

  "Pneumonia?" I scowled. He'd been sick, no wonder he looked so horrible.

  "Yes, that cough I had turned to pneumonia landing me in hospital for several weeks. I only just made it through Judith's graduation before I could no longer hold myself up. I took myself to A&E and they admitted me. I've only just got back into the country last night."

  He coughed as he spoke, the dry rasping cough that tends to linger after a bought of respiratory illness.

  When he caught his breath, I asked the one question I felt I could without giving away all the hurt and pain that I had only just got into some manageable space in my mind.

  "Why are you here? And, how did you find where I live?"

  Okay, so that was two questions.

  He smiled at me before reaching out and touching my face with his palm. I froze unsure what the gesture meant, but all too aware of the electric warmth of his skin against mine and of the curious eyes watching this exchange.

  "Didn't you get my letter?"

  My scowl deepened, "Letter? What letter? I haven't heard a single word from you since my last email."