Warning from France/Death by My Mother's Hand

Friday and another frenetic day. Still working to get info to my accountant - tracking down every errant entry in Quick Books is taking three times as long as it should. And tonight the Landmark Intro evening in my home with about a dozen people. I still have to clean the house, get some groceries, make two pies and prep pizza. Going to keep it simple and unpretentious.

Yesterday was challenging but I managed to keep my perspective. Call from France from a childhood friend of Luke's (the guy I dated Friday). Luke had encouraged him to call regarding a business opportunity. We immediately clicked across the Atlantic (he was raised here so no problem with language!). His ideas are interesting and sound and we soon found ourselves talking about ourselves. I could feel he felt a friendly connection. At the end of the call an awkward silence..I could tell he wanted to say something. "How much do you know about Luke?" he asked warily. "Not much," I confessed. "Is there something I should know?" "He's the smartest man I know but he hasn't had an easy life.....ask him to be honest with you about it." That's all he would say. Hmmmmm.....I hear a shoe dropping. And bad news on the office short sale - looks like it might not go through. Need a Plan B.

Last night I sang at Landmark - two songs - that sad Johnny Mercer song I always sing that tugs at my Patrick heartstrings, I Thought About You, and also a modified version of What a Day This Has Been. Changed the lyrics to What a Course This Has Been.

What a course this has been,

What a great mood we're in.

Why it's finally like being in life.

There's a smile on our face,

For the whole human race,

Why it's finally like being in life.

All the music of life seems to be,

Like a bell that is ringing just for we,

And from the way that we feel

When that bell starts to peal

Why it's finally like being,

It's finally like being,

It's finally like being in life!

Then someone asked for a report from Luke about whether he had gone on the three prescribed dates (remember last week the leader challenged him to go on three dates). When we went on our date, the very next day, and I reminded him he needed to go on two more dates that week, we strategized that we should see each other two more times that week so he could be in integrity. Three dates but with the same person!  

But we didn't - I had the Baltimore trip and he had stuff so I was surprised when, last night, he reported he'd been on two dates - two out of three, not bad the group agreed. Means he dated someone else after me. I, on the other hand, cancelled a Saturday coffee date with someone new after being with Luke on Friday. Didn't feel the need to look further. He obviously did. That's not OK with me. When I meet the right person, he too will feel the need to look no further. I'm not going to be someone's ambivalent settle. That's what killed Patrick and me. The whole time he was with me he always thought he could do better, even though he was head over heels in love with me.

So... sad and happy today. Sad because for the first time, I was animated and smitten by someone. We had an amazing date where we laughed and laughed, finished each others' sentences, were amazed at our commonality and the end-of-night-kiss made me weak behind the knees. Sad it's unraveling  But happy too, because, for the first time, I was animated and smitten by someone who kissed me and made me weak behind the knees. There IS life after Patrick and that is something to rejoice about (seriously wasn't sure I wouldn't be one of those fading away women who cling, like a lover, to loss).

Another thing. A doctor visit. Gastroenterologist. A nurse and a doctor watching live on a screen what is going on inside of me. The doctor's face and his words, "What the fuck!" The nurse's face - terror and then she slumps to the floor in a faint. "What's going on!!!" I cry. The doctor, "Sarah you have two enormous tumors in your chest but there's more. There are two people living inside of you. One of them is a small, sweet looking girl. The other is an enormous monster with only one eye. He is looking right at me, saying something. I can't hear him - it looks like a threat. Both these creatures are holding the tumors. Impossible and yet it's true."

Later House calls me...."What did they decide to do...operate? he asks. "No one has decided anything," I respond. "Am I going to live?" "Of course not," he responds callously. "I need you. Come to me," I beg. He rushes to me and we sit on the stoop of my house. "I've seen him before," I say. And I had - a fabric painting of a primitive character my mother created. An unearthly creature in a dress with a stick neck and a too small head. The same slash mouth I saw on the film. The same one eye. "I need to show you the painting."

Mother is in bed when we knock on her door. She is old and has mostly given up the living fight. We startle her. "Has it happened!" she starts awake. "No, I just brought someone who wants to meet you and we want to see that painting of the monster in the dress." "Yes, of course," she says. "I would know if it had started." The painting is studied. House looks worried. He had seen the film of my chest. It is him - the same one-eyed abomination. "Has there been any change in the past years," he asks cryptically. "Yes, she went away for a while and left him. That was terrible." I say things not even knowing I know them. "But she's back now and he's OK for now."

"Not for long," my mother says, her silver hair like a halo on her pillow. She gazes wearily at the ceiling of her bedroom as if she is seeing something new and unbearably sad. "I don't understand," I say to both she and House. "Why can't you just operate and take them both out and the tumors too?" Mother looks at me sadly. "You are the container. You're all that stands between him and the end of this reality we're all living in. He has to die inside of you. When he dies, he will squeeze the tumor so hard it will burst open - you won't survive it. "What about her? I ask sadly. "She'll be OK...." mother responds. "She will leave before it happens. She can come and go at will."

"I will make it painless," House offers uncharacteristically sweetly. "No, it's prophesied I must kill him," my mother says. "If you kill him, he will seep through Sarah's DNA portal into her youngest daughter. Madeleine doesn't even have to be in the room for him to make that leap. If I kill him, it destroys his legacy. I'll need your help though." With that, I'm told to leave the room - he apparently hears all our conversations. Mother and House plot my death, his death - an ultrasound while he sleeps. a sharpened knitting needle plunged into his brain through the one eye.

Thinking Kaveh will enjoy hearing about that dream when we have our good-bye appointment in Louisville a week from Monday. Just had it last night. It's fresh in my mind.

Peace,
Sarah