This Fish Needs A Bicycle

wednesdays & saturdays

J called the other night while the girls and I were on our way to dinner.

“I’m driving back from my parents’ house,” the message said. “And I just wanted to call and tell you that I really miss you.”

He’s a sentimental one, that J.

I remember taking that same drive back from his parents’ place on the Cape (I’d been gardening with his mother while the men worked on the project car in the garage), Dashboard Confessional’s Shirts and Gloves playing on the CD player.

I think I miss you most
On Wednesdays and Saturdays

“That’s when I’d miss your guts out, too,” he’d said, drumming on the steering wheel. Always drumming.

“Laundry night?”
“Yeah. And days like today.”

On Wednesday evenings, I’d trim his hair and then he’d lug my laundry to the big, not annoying Laundromat on Brighton Ave, where he’d help fold -- everything but the underwear. Underwear made him nervous. Then we’d watch really bad reality television. The night was significant in its own way, and when I finally sent that, “I never, ever want to see you again,” email last February, I remember thinking, What am I going to do on Wednesday nights?

I think the first week, I took a Xanax with a half a bottle of wine and went to bed early.

I was a sentimental one, too.

Posted by This Fish at June 22, 2004 09:39 AM