I wanted to call her today so badly.
I wanted it to be like all the other times I called her just to vent. She’d answer the phone and I’d tell her that I just wanted to bitch and she’d tell me to hold on while she got some fresh water and got comfy beside one of the dogs on the couch. And I’d hear the flick of her lighter and the sound of her inhaling that first drag and then she’d say, “There now. Okay, what’s up, chickie?” and I’d let loose and ramble on about all the stupid things that were pissing me off. And she’d listen and say all the right things and when I hung up the phone I’d feel like all was right with the world again.
I wanted to call her today so badly and tell her about the shiner Julia gave Oliver when she bashed him in the face with a plastic bowling pin this morning. I wanted to tell her about the fucking bitches that work at the cold deli at the grocery store and how every time I’m there they treat me like dog shit and make me feel guilty for having the audacity to have them cut me a half pound of roasted turkey breast and how I’m not going to shop there anymore, ever again, and how I got the store manager’s name and phone number so I can call him during his next shift and tell him why he is losing a longtime customer. I wanted to tell her how I try so hard to stay calm and keep my cool with Oliver but sometimes he is so difficult to deal with, and it overwhelms me, and how there are times when he’s screaming and kicking and hitting and I don’t know what the right thing is to do.