tampons and curly-haired girls

She slammed the phone down. Harder than usual this time. I knew what was coming next.

I sat in my room, waiting. I knew she’d be there in a minute or two.

The sound of her car pulling into my driveway was unmistakable. The squealing tires. The slamming door. I meet her outside before she could knock on the door.

This is my biggest memory of that place. Dromedary Drive. The fights.

I wonder sometimes how a person romanticizes such things. Fights. They wore me down. Beat me down, really. I wanted to love, but I didn’t know how. I think she was the same way. Damaged goods way too early, and too young, too naïve to know how to talk to each other about it.

The Flinstone vitamins are about the only thing healthy in my kitchen. Cans of beanie weenies, packages of ramen noodles and cheese nabs. It’s no wonder my blood pressure is sky high. Between the unhealthy diet and the job sitting all day in a cubicle, there’s little reason to believe it’ll get better.

If you don’t do something.

I remember hanging out at the river when I was a kid. I’d run down the giant slope from the Cuddy’s house to stand there at the side of the water. I hated hanging out with the other kids, even then. I was 8 years old.

I’d dream of building a raft and floating to the islands in the middle of the channel. I’d build my own house, I thought, and live off the land. No idea how I’d do it. Just that I wanted to.

All sorts of treasures could be found on the river’s edge. Sharks’ teeth from long-ago. Arrow heads left behind by the Indian tribes of the area. Beer cans and soda bottles. Tennis balls and flip flops. I’d collect anything. My favorites for a little while where the little pink plastic things. They’d be everywhere on the beach some days. I’d build little forts out of them and have my Star Wars action figures plot how to destroy them. Other times I’d fill them with sand and use them as projectiles for my sling shot. All I know is this little pink plastic pieces were a godsend. They took me away for just a little bit.

It wasn’t until I was in my late 20s or early 30s that I figured out what they were. Tampon plastic applicators. Ha.

The James River was always a dumping ground for awful things. Kepone being the most famous. But somewhere near where I used to play, toilets were being flushed out as well. Makes me all warm and fuzzy inside just thinking about it.

When someone picks up the phone, it can be the best feeling in the world.

Sometimes, it’s the difference between life and death. I know, because I’ve made that phone call before. And luckily, someone picked up.

So when I got a call last night from a friend I knew was in distress, I didn’t hesitate in picking it up. I knew the call would be awkward. And long. But sometimes you just need a voice on the other end that isn’t inside your head.

I think my inability to force myself to shave every morning is a general sign of why I can’t find a job outside of journalism.

“I heard a rumor,” the gals from Bananarama sang to me from my car stereo.

It was one of those free periods on the XM radio that was installed in my car with purchase. It’s funny, when I had it, I rarely used it. But when I get one of the mailings saying it’s a free week or weekend or something, I click over to it.

Something about free, I guess. When it came with the car, it seemed as if I was paying for it. And truth be told, I am still with those pesky monthly payments.

But when it’s free, it’s better.

What the fuck and I trying to say?

She always had a smile on her face. I think that’s what drew me to her, the girl in the checkout line at the Tempe IGA.

Her curly blonde hair was always a mess. And I liked it that way. You could tell she rode a bike to work, and didn’t care much for what it did to her hairdo.

Every day I would pedal to that IGA for some beer or maybe a frozen pizza and Doritoes. She was always there. We’d chat for a minute or two, sometimes longer if no one was in line. She smiled and laughed at my stupid attempts at humor. We’d talk about a movie or song.

I almost asked her out one day, but felt too weird doing it in public.

A few weeks later, she was never there anymore. I guess she got a new job. I hope she could ride her bike to that one too.

I was in Tempe not too long ago. I drove by the old IGA. It wasn’t there anymore either.