29 - Train Wreck

     "You are an absolute train wreck!" she said to me.  "What the hell is wrong with you?"
     "First things first.  I'm just a moderate train wreck.  Things aren't as bad as they seem.  Haven't you been reading the diary entries?"  I asked knowing that I had been slacking.
     "That's what I mean you selfish bastard, I don't hear from you anymore, I read about you in some e-mail you send.  I can't tell if these are things that really happen to you or this is just some wild fantasy you are dragging me through."
     "Maybe it's both."  I knew before I said it that it was the wrong answer.  She looked beautiful, but she always looked just a little better when she was pissed off.
     "Just answer a few questions for me.  Why can't you be more consistent?  I get like six or seven of these little stories in a row and then nothing for six months.  Why don't you just write a book?"
     "Life is inconsistent."  I thought about having a cigarette but it's been almost a month.  She hates it when I smoke anyway.  "I write when the urge hits me.  A book would take far too fucking long.  I've only written 43 entries and it's been almost three years! Can you imagine if I tried to write a two or three hundred page book?"
     "The bear accident, the bomb scare, the latest car accident how much of that shit is true?"  She was twirling her hair with the index finger of her left hand.  She doen't even know she does it.  I love that shit.
     "All true.  I don't have any scars from the latest accident to show you but I do have this headache that won't go away."
     "That's what I mean.  You are a train wreck."
     "I'm more of a 'change oil soon'/'maintainence required' type of light.  I'm there just to remind you that things are ok but they could be better."
     "Who the hell is this Stotler you spend so much time with?"  She said, almost jealous.
     "I've known Stotler for almost thirty years.  He used to be my moral barometer.  Let's say that I was thinking about doing something or someone I shouldn't, I'd run the idea past him.  If he thought the idea was crazy or out of line I knew I was ok to do it.
     "Speaking of which, is your back ok?"  I cracking my knuckles.
     "That's evil," she said positioning herself in front of me.  "You know you are the only one who gives me a good massage."
     "You know the rates have gone up, right?
     "How much?"
     "This time it's going to cost you a kiss."
     "You're not going to write about this are you?
     "You won't know til you check your e-mail on Monday now will you."

That Beautiful Black Man