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February 26, 2003 - Fish and Company
We jump off the train in New London. Huge bag slung over my back, tiny baby girl strapped to my chest. The ferry's looming in its slip; we've got fifteen minutes to buy our tickets and get on. We woke up in D.C. this morning and the ferry never figured in our plans. Jogging through the long-term parking lot, bag leaden and thumping against my back, Asha silent and feather-light, amazed at our speed. I press my lips to her miniature ear and tell her, we're free, you've freed me. Because of you I'm no longer tied to any time or place or day of the week or spot on the face of the earth. I am tied only to you, and you are small and I can carry you and we can go anywhere, you and I. It is true that there are other ties. Leaving Toby alone in the double seat wasn't easy; he hadn't been expecting to go home to an empty house. But there's no clock waiting for me to punch it, no phone waiting for me to answer it, no pompous idiot waiting to grind me under his heel, and I'm doing this - hopping off this train on the spur of the moment - purely and principally and beautifully because I can. We went to D.C. to see Ben and Shana. And Ruby was too precious to leave with a dogsitter - Toby postulating possible heating failures, possible passionate, lonely, neighbor-disturbing barking, so there was nothing to be done but to get on the ferry for Jerk Town, all of us, to take her to my parents. This was Sunday. Monday we were supposed to go home, but on Monday morning there was already a foot of snow on the ground. Snowbound. Dad and I ventured out foolishly to try to bring Violet home from Kelly's house and ended up stuck in a drift. If the man with the bulldozer hadn't come along when he did ... I swear, I will never go out in a blizzard again. We made it back to Providence just in time to leave again for D.C., but those were such strange days because of what was missing. Ruby - I kept expecting to find her everywhere. I woke up in the middle of the night to find a half-awake Toby trying to push Lucifer under the covers, into Ruby's accustomed place. Our household wasn't whole without her, and I didn't want to wait until my parents decided to visit again for her to be returned. The train line stops right by the ferry terminal and I just decided that when we got there I'd get off. It amazes me, still, this freedom to let my life fall out as it will. The trip to D.C. was unnerving. On the one hand, it was nice to see Shana. On the other hand, Ben did his level oblivious dunderheaded best to remind me just why it was that I was so desperate to get away from him all those years ago. Toby's holding Asha, Shana and I have just settled in to look at a photo album. Over Asha's screaming, Toby calls something about a pacifier. It's in the diaper bag, I call back. Ben says, and I quote, "Why don't you get it for him? Why don't you get it for him? Why don't you get it for him? Why don't you get it for him? Why don't you get it for him?" Now what I should have said is, why don't you fuck off? Instead I got up and got the diaper bag and handed it to Toby and retreated to the guestroom. I don't know which disturbed me more, Ben's incredible rudeness or my own failure to stand up to him. He gave a command, and, like a puppet, like the scared little girl who lived with him almost a decade ago, I jumped to do his bidding. I don't have to do what he says, ever again. But I did, and I have to live with that now. Toby persuaded me to come to the table for Chinese takeout. Unwisely, I was seated next to Ben, and when I dumped the small remainder of the bag of noodles onto my plate - are you ready? - he reached over and grabbed half of them - right off my plate -without saying a word. I kept my mouth shut, too, just raised my eyebrows and left them raised. I took the plastic lid off my food, tried to fit it underneath the aluminum takeout tray, found the parts didn't quite mate, and set the lid aside. Ben grabbed the tray out of my hands and jammed it into the lid, and said, don't do that, you're getting grease all over the table. I retreated to my room for the second time. And Toby brought me back, and this time - this time, folks! - I didn't even make it into the room before he found a way to insult me. I'm closing the baby gate behind me, operating on the principal that baby gates should always be closed, and Ben goes, "you don't have to do that, you don't have to do that, you don't have to do that." Apparently they keep it open after their daughter goes to bed so that the cats can get to their food. The funny thing is, he really never meant to upset or insult me. He just treated me the same way he treats everyone else. Plus their kid whined for three days straight and said nothing but "no", and that only when the pacifier could be pried out of her mouth. They're coming up in April, and I'm not exactly looking forward to it. The train trip was a mixed bag. Parts of it were difficult - ask Toby about changing a diaper on a moving train in a filthy bathroom with no flat surface bigger than one foot square. Parts of it were heartbreaking - we went through Baltimore, my first time back since we left, and seeing the skyline in the distance was like seeing the face of a beloved friend thought long dead. And parts of it were strangely romantic, Toby hand-feeding me cheese and crackers while our daughter slept in my arms. Winter can't break me. When I'm alone in the car I'm still driving with the window down, letting twenty-degree breezes freeze my fingers and tousle my hair, singing along with the radio at the top of my lungs. |