I haven’t posted in a long time. I kept meaning to, but I was kind of too busy. Not exactly too busy in life, but too busy adjusting to life. And I don’t seem to have time to even articulate to someone else in a coherent way what all of that means.
It might have been a good week so far. I am not sure. I think it probably was.
On Monday, C suddenly came onto Facebook and said I think my dad won’t let me stay here and I want to call him. Well, actually she meant she wanted me to call him. Anyway, it got confusing, so I called her. I asked her some questions. I said I would see what I would do.
This proved to be highly unsatisfactory. I think I kind of checked out. I didn’t register how upset she was or that this wasn’t a problem to be solved. This was an emotional catastrophe to be soothed.
So then she posted a status update in Country X English (not totally decipherable) about wanting to have sex with her boyfriend. I told her to take it down. She said okay and didn’t do anything. We chatted about what she meant and why she couldn’t post something like that for all to see over the course of perhaps an hour. Not continually, but in that way that can happen when you chat. Four responses in an hour maybe. Something like that.
Then I called her and her phone was switched off. I guess after ten minutes, she turned it back on again, but she didn’t answer it.
I put on National Dress and walked to her house in the dark. I was really, really angry at her. If her parents think she is acting wild, they will never allow her to stay here. I won’t be able to do anything. But apparently she had taken a massive dose of fuckitol and didn’t care. So I was livid.
She came to the door and I just looked at her. I guess it was my angry look. It might have been. I thought she must have been deliberately manipulating me into coming, but she did not look like she expected me. I mean, she seemed surprised.
When she went into the kitchen to make tea for me, I came and stood behind her and stroked her hair and her neck. I said some things about why she needed to wait. Then she said go out and I will come. So I did.
I sat and thought, I guess, while the TV played. I can’t really remember. But there was an interlude. She came and asked me what I take for curry. This somehow confused me. I think because everyone else kind of knows what I eat and don’t eat, but C never asks. I guess she made dinner then. After a while she went into one of the other rooms. I went in after her. She was sitting at the corner of a very crowded desk, looking through a notebook full of National Language and stapling pages together. I stood over her, stroking her hair again, and asked her what she was doing. Looking through her friend’s notebook full of important notes.
After a minute, I went out again to the livingroom. I ate dinner. When C brought more curry for me, she began to hand it to me and then instead took it and spooned it over the rice. The look she gave me was an intense look. I couldn’t really read it. But she seemed to be trying to take care of me. I thought of the umbrella.
Her mom asked if I would stay the night—people here are unreasonably afraid of the dark. But I thought my Class 5 exam was getting marked in the morning and I hadn’t prepared an answer key yet. I had to go home.
I felt like such a lunatic walking to her house in the dark, but afterwards I was so glad I had gone. It seemed to cement something for her, maybe for both of us. For her, maybe she understood if she needs me, I will come. I am not just pretending to care. I don’t just care when it is convenient for me to care. I care all the time. And for me, I think it cemented for me that I understand her.
She felt no one wanted her—that I wasn’t doing anything about the situation, because I don’t really want her—she got into a hot state and couldn’t think straight. The idiot thing to do which, in her hot state, seemed to be the sensible thing to do was to behave like someone no one could want. Like a slut, we would say. Just embrace that identity of worthlessness totally. Either way, it has to do with her particular wound, which is a wound I know about and understand. I understand about feeling unwanted. I understand about hot states too.
You could say she was testing me. She wasn’t really. She was expressing to me in the loudest way she could think of how totally worthless she felt. And I, just as loudly, went and confirmed her worth again..