Tuesday, November 19, 2002

We’d been talking about her

We’d been talking about her friend all through dinner.  I’d met her once or twice, a striking woman in every respect, articulate, intelligent, highly educated, very easy on the eyes.  I learned during supper that she had gotten into an unhealthy relationship.  This woman and the guy in her life are both musicians and had made music together - nothing more.  But he had no car, lost his job, did a lot of crank… and he would rant, hours on end, cursing the world and the impediments with which it had strewn his path.  She was having trouble seeing her old friends - even their mutual friends.  She’d bought all the instruments for their sessions and paid all the rent on the rehearsal space.  He was starting to get possessive.  Of the stuff, the space - of her. 

We finished supper and got back in the car on streets littered with old Wayne Newton albums and shredded spanish fly boxes, had just started driving when her phone rang.  It was the friend we’d been discussing.  “Dan had some great advice for you.” I was put on the line - on the spot.  First, I thanked her again for a lovely party I’d been lucky enough to attend at her house, and then admitted that I didn’t know her well enough tto have any advice for her, and didn’t know this other guy at all, so I was disqualified from holding any opinion about him.  But I could offer a few reflections.

I mentioned that men on speed, without job or car, who are selfish emotionally and materially, could put even an intelligent and capable woman into a bad situation.  She agreed, and we concluded together that she had to get out of the relationship.  The decision was irrevocable and salubrious.  The question was her exit strategy, and she’d already done some good thinking on that score - but to put her plan into effect she had to wait a few more days.  Meanwhile, he was still calling her, getting antsy; she wanted it over, needed to move on.  The delay was excruciating. 

I mentioned my broken wrist, how it didn’t hurt right at first but soon grew to be ferociously painful, and how I had to wait a few long hours before it could be reset - had to wait with my fingers in wire net traps, my wrist bulging and misshapen, a 20 pound weight dangling from my elbow as the orthopod waited for the muscles to relax enough for him to be able to reset the bone.  I was uncomfortable, wishing it were over, and when the time was ripe for action it hurt like nothing I’ve ever experienced.  But then I felt my joints snap into place and started feeling better right away; I went from injury to recovery in a single searing moment.  She was still waiting for that perfect moment to endure the pain of facing a shattered part of her life, but the wait was important and the recovery would begin forthwith.