Saturday, July 05, 2003
GETTING MY STUFF, Sex and Lies continued...
Acquiring things never held much interest for either of us. There were no arguments about who gets to take the stereo. The house was the only material thing of any value that we owned in common. We had the usual things most people have; TV, a car, and the random accumulation of ten years of marriage. There was the incredible doll house that Pete and I made secretly in the basement for Erika on the Christmas when she was four. We built it in wood from scratch. It had everything including a wall-papered bedroom to match her own. It still had an honored place in her room.
I had moved all of my art supplies, canvas, easels, paints and paintings down to my Fort Point loft weeks earlier, before Pete knew my move was permanent. I still needed to get a few things, including my clothes, to make life possible. After our last contact in his car at Government Center I had some anxiety about going back to the house. He would barely speak to me. He made it extremely difficult for me to have any contact with Erika.
We finally made a deal where one Saturday he would arrange to be out of the house with Erika. He would give me an hour to come in and get my stuff. Bill had been providing a sympathetic ear and was well informed about the situation I was in. He offered to give me a ride and wait for me while I went in the house and rounded up my things. It was the first time I'd been inside in weeks. The kitchen was kind of dirty, there were piles of laundry not done. I wanted to start cleaning up. I was worried that Pete and Erika would not be able to keep the mundane stuff going but there was nothing I could do about it. I would have been willing to come back once a week to clean and do the laundry but he wouldn't let me in the house. They would need some hired help for sure.
I realized there was not much time and I didn't want Pete to come back and find poor Bill sitting there and think that he had anything to do with my leaving. I grabbed the last of my clothes from the closet, my electric fry pan from the kitchen and 3 towels from the bathroom. That was it. The sum total of goods. I needed the fry pan since my loft had no kitchen. I cooked on a two burner hot plate and the fry pan was a necessity for someone who likes to cook.
I tossed the stuff in the car and Bill took off. We headed down the Mass Pike back to Boston. There was a sudden welling up and bursting inside of me. Release and relief and anticipation, like an escaped prisoner with a whole new world of possibilities.
Acquiring things never held much interest for either of us. There were no arguments about who gets to take the stereo. The house was the only material thing of any value that we owned in common. We had the usual things most people have; TV, a car, and the random accumulation of ten years of marriage. There was the incredible doll house that Pete and I made secretly in the basement for Erika on the Christmas when she was four. We built it in wood from scratch. It had everything including a wall-papered bedroom to match her own. It still had an honored place in her room.
I had moved all of my art supplies, canvas, easels, paints and paintings down to my Fort Point loft weeks earlier, before Pete knew my move was permanent. I still needed to get a few things, including my clothes, to make life possible. After our last contact in his car at Government Center I had some anxiety about going back to the house. He would barely speak to me. He made it extremely difficult for me to have any contact with Erika.
We finally made a deal where one Saturday he would arrange to be out of the house with Erika. He would give me an hour to come in and get my stuff. Bill had been providing a sympathetic ear and was well informed about the situation I was in. He offered to give me a ride and wait for me while I went in the house and rounded up my things. It was the first time I'd been inside in weeks. The kitchen was kind of dirty, there were piles of laundry not done. I wanted to start cleaning up. I was worried that Pete and Erika would not be able to keep the mundane stuff going but there was nothing I could do about it. I would have been willing to come back once a week to clean and do the laundry but he wouldn't let me in the house. They would need some hired help for sure.
I realized there was not much time and I didn't want Pete to come back and find poor Bill sitting there and think that he had anything to do with my leaving. I grabbed the last of my clothes from the closet, my electric fry pan from the kitchen and 3 towels from the bathroom. That was it. The sum total of goods. I needed the fry pan since my loft had no kitchen. I cooked on a two burner hot plate and the fry pan was a necessity for someone who likes to cook.
I tossed the stuff in the car and Bill took off. We headed down the Mass Pike back to Boston. There was a sudden welling up and bursting inside of me. Release and relief and anticipation, like an escaped prisoner with a whole new world of possibilities.
