Technically Considered a Rough Day

It began at about 6pm.

I was just about to head over to class to get in some pre audition reads with my partner, when my cell rang.

It was BU. She was calling me back.

Not ready to speak to her directly, I let it go to message. As I was packing up and heading out the door, this is what she said.

Hey, good to hear from you. Thanks for calling. I'm fine. I'm sort of an old fashioned girl, and when a guy doesn't call me back for two weeks, I sort of write him off. It's cool, no problem. I had a fun time with you, but if a guy doesn't call a girl back in two weeks, that pretty much spells it out. I'll see you around. Have a good year. Goodbye.

So, that is that. She is right, it does spell it out. I was calling her partly because I felt obligated. Now, it is done. Wish it had gone different, but still, I'm glad it didn't. I might have doubted it if it were good. Now, I can go forward.

Still, it did feel like a dump. Strange, it was a dump by someone you already dumped, but a dump all the same.

Then, at the class audition, my teacher said that we would come into the room, read for the agents, take a question, then leave. If we bombed it, he would give an adjustment. Yikes. He said he would only do that if we really bombed, because he didn't want to mess with a good thing.

I was fourth. People were going in and coming out all excited. They were doing well. The night was going strong. Just before going in, I said to myself, Fuck it. Go do this.

I walked in, did my read. Noticed one agent pull my picture out as I was reading. Thought that should be a good sign. Finished.

Then, it happened.

He said he was going to give me an adjustment.

AAAGGGHHH. Death.

I smiled. Took the note. He said go faster. Pick up the pace.

Did it. Felt it went good.

Came out.

Everyone eyed me. Well, well? Told them he gave me an adjustment. Their mouths dropped. No!

Everyone went in to read. The night ended. He brought us into the room after the agents read. Went one by one and told us how we did, and what they thought.

Everyone was loved. You did great. You'll get a call.

It came to me.

He said, Honestly, you blew it. They thought you were green.

My classmates gasped. One said, No.

I tried to give you a second shot, but you didn't really take the note. Not a bad read, just not enough.

I poured myself a tumbler of some of the extra wine. Fuck it, indeed. Me and agents. Sheesh.

The class wanted to go out and celebrate. Sorry, not me. I gotta go see my ex wife.

Got into my car and burst into tears.

Drove out to her school. On the way, she called and asked if I could pick up some more beer.

Sure.

Got to her school. Called to say I was there. Needed help with the beer. Loud music from the dj. She couldn't hear me. Told me the doors were open. I shouted I needed help. She couldn't hear me.

Her friend J came out and greeted me. Said she couldn't lift the beer due to a back injury. Turned to go get someone.

I grabbed a couple and walked in. On my way, two guys nodded, and I pointed them to the car with the beer on the roof.

Got inside. X was there. Told me she couldn't hear me. Uh-huh. Where to put the beer? Then, she was gone.

I put the beer in an office. The two guys came in, and said, You're putting it here?

I don't know where to put it. Put it wherever.

I grabbed a bottle as they took it away. Walked out into the party. Loud music. People dancing, people milling about. Nobody coming over to me.

What am I doing? I should just leave.

Then I saw.

X was standing by a guy. I knew right away. It was him. She was too free, and too close. He was nervous. Looked like Richard Dreyfuss in The Goodbye Girl. Only Jewish. Bearded, glasses, nebbish.

Still nobody came to me.

What am I doing here? What am I doing?

Then she was there. Told me even though the gallery doors were closed, the gallery was still open. Told me to go on in. It was raining, and the roof was leaking, so she had to throw some plastic over it. Told me I would still be able to see it. Then she was gone.

I walked to the gallery. Opened the door and walked in.

There before me was a 36 foot boat. Huge. Covered in plastic. Colorful. Jagged. Awkward. Amongst the muffled music could be heard a drip, drip, drip. Sounded like the creaking of an actual ship. It was quiet.

There was the boat.

When we split, X told me a story.

One of her favorite movies is Apocalypse Now. In it, Martin Sheen always says don't get outta the boat. Every time they do, something bad happens.

After we split, she was watching the movie, and she said she realized she had gotten outta the boat, but when she turned back, the boat was no longer there.

So, she built a boat.

There in that gallery, as I stood alone, with my ex talking to her new boyfriend, was my relationship, the boat, covered in plastic, and being dripped on.

Again, I burst into tears.

Made my way around the boat. Hid behind the plastic. I felt so small. I wanted to climb into the boat. I wanted to sail away, never to see anyone.

Then the gallery door opened.

Shit.

I peeked through the plastic. It was her friend, J. She asked if I liked it. I tried to wipe away the tears, and lower my voice from a crack as I said yes.

Still, she heard it.

You ok?

Yes. I thanked her for telling X to give me the heads up. She nodded. Asked if I needed a drink, saw my beer, nodded. We stood for a moment silent.

X came in. She was giddy. She had a great day. Everyone had been flattering her. I smiled.

This is why I came. To support her. Told myself to put myself aside. Told her I loved the piece. Told her I was proud of her.

Let's go dance she said to us all.

We went out.

J and another friend, E, stuck by me all night. They made sure I was alright. I fell in love with them for that last night.

The dj was playing The Clash, The Pixies, The Talking Heads, Iggy Pop, lots of punk and new wave.

E and I started to dance. Then, I went wild. I thrashed about. I threw off my jacket, and shortly after, my sweater. I sweated. I pounded. I stomped. I tried to get out everything inside.

I was electric. A girl actually came up and tried to hit on me. Didn't know who I was. I told her. She walked away.

I jumped and clapped and wiggled and kicked.

X would come and dance near me, but not with me. Not being rude, just being cautious. Polite, to him.

He stood in the corner all night long. As I went crazy and everyone at the school came by and talked with me, and her friends danced with me and shouted with me, I felt good.

I thought, Yeah, this is what she had. This crazy unpredictable bastard is what you are going to be compared to. Good luck.

At the end of the night, we walked to E apt to sleep. E had put her hand on my back and asked how I was doing. I said I was good. I smiled at her, and she back. I said I had my game face on. She nodded.

As we drifted off, X asked if it was tough on me tonight. Yes, I said. It was weird. She said she was sorry, but didn't know what else to do. I said she did just fine, but that it was weird no matter what would have happened.

How do you say, I still love you, but not enough to take you back.

Even if you would want me.

I slept hard. The floor hurt my ribs. The dancing probably didn't help either.

This morning, we got up early. Drove for breakfast with her family.

Her father, upon getting out of the car, strode right up to me and hugged me. Her mother the same.

I couldn't do this again. Goodbye was too early this morning, so I shifted. I turned on. I became the comedian, and all through breakfast had everyone laughing. I didn't shut off.

As we hugged goodbye, I choked up. I didn't say goodbye, but I felt it. I told them when I next swing through Davenport I would look them up. We laughed, but the sentence got hung up on reality and the laughter slowed down quicker than the moments before.

X and I drove back to the gallery.

She wanted me to see the piece without the plastic. I helped her take it off. The color sprang out. The immensity seemed even greater now that it was free. A man walked in off the street and looking at her piece exclaimed wow.

She asked me to read her statement.

The piece was entitled, After making some decisions, no matter how inconsequential, there is no going back.

She wrote how the boat was made with no blue print, no structure in mind. She worked on it in five separate pieces, never putting them together until the very end. She worked on each separate piece as if it was the only one, not considering the other pieces. She made each mark, every cut as it occurred to her.

Just like life.

Every decision is made in its own context. Every action taken in the moment. Then, after a while, all of these seemingly random meaningless actions add up and create a thing of significance.

I had always secretly wanted her to make a piece about me or us the entire time we were together. Now she had, and it was her best. But it was too late.

She said she had to go. We walked outside.

We stood there a moment looking at each other.

I wanted to say, I don't want to leave. Take me with you.

I wanted to hug her, and go have coffee with her, and then lay down and sleep. I was so tired and sad, and lonely. I wanted to say I'm sorry. But was I? Did I?

She asked if I was ok. I nodded. I was choking up. I couldn't hold it in. She asked if we needed to talk about this. I said no.

I told her I was proud of her. I told her I thought she was a success, and I wasn't only referring to the sculpture. She smiled weakly, and said thanks.

Then, I turned around and got into my car.

When I looked back, she was no longer there.

Like the boat. No longer there.