Thursday, December 09, 2004

Celia the Girl

“Dad! Hey Dad! Wake up!”

My five-year-old daughter, Lillie, was sitting on my chest. “Can I watch television?”

“Yeah . . . okay . . .” I hear her brothers playing in the next room. Maybe I can catch some more sleep with the TV on. I reach for the remote and check the time. 7:15am. Jesus, why are they up so early?

I realize: oh yeah. School day. I’ve overslept.

I get the lunches made and the kids dressed very quickly. They even get breakfast and brush their teeth. We make it to the school just as the bell rings.

As I walk back home through the park, I remember talking with Celia the night before.

It had been a tiring night. I had housecleaning to do, and dinner to make. Jason needed help with his homework. After I got them to bed, I zoned out to “West Wing,” then called my teen daughter Rachel to commiserate on the anniversary of John Lennon’s murder.

(She is a Beatles fanatic, which I encourage; Ringo is her fav, which I don’t understand. Everyone knows the proper order of preference is John, George, Paul and Ringo, in descending order. She got a mind of her own, this one—kids today, I tell ya.)

Afterwards, I poured a bourbon and set to work on my blog. I flirted with Bridget and Marla via instant messages. Then I took my bourbon and a book to bed.

Around midnight, my phone rings. It’s my Celia. So she knows how to use a phone after all!

We talked for a long time. Unfortunately, I was drunk and can’t remember it all. Fortunately, I keep a “drunk book” handy to take notes.

She talked about how her art making was going, and her upcoming trip. She filled me in on more of her life. She recalled how horny she had been as a young teen, when there was no one to fuck.

In the course of things, I out myself as a secret admirer. I confess that I not only like you, you see, I REALLY like you, and that our weekend together really felt special to me.

Blame the drink.

She wasn’t freaked out. She didn’t sit me down and say, look, we have sex at orgies, but don’t go falling for me.

Nope. She didn’t mind at all that I like her.

Today, she called me for no special reason. Just to talk.


Dacia said...

"Drunk book"? That's why we get along so well, my dear. I have one of those too.

Jane Vincent said...

george, ringo, john, paul (duh!)