Wednesday

Went to London yesterday for my monthly check-up following the laser eye surgery, and all is well. Have been a bit worried, since my vision’s been somewhat blurred at times but they say all is normal and I’m healing well. It’s apparently blurred ‘cos there’s still some astigmatism in my left eye (at 0.75, from 3.00) and they say it might require further treatment if it hasn’t settled in three or four months. That’s okay by me; I’d be quite happy to give it another go. Next time, though, I want a video. Everybody got to see what was going on except me!

            Then I came home and worked – and made some half-decent progress on Part Two (while becoming at the same time aware of how much better I could make things if I just had more time) – and after that Perlilly and I went out for dinner. I said, “where do you want to go?” and she said, “wherever you want.” I said, “okay, then, let’s walk up into Headington” – and with that she threw a strop. She didn’t want to walk; she’d already cycled ten miles and had a game of squash. Not that she couldn’t, though (I ascertained), just that she didn’t want to. And she got in a bad mood and off we went then not really talking.

            That was about the final straw for me.

            Fifty metres or so out the door I stopped and asked her if she was going to cheer up.

            She said something about not wanting to walk, and made it clear that she wasn’t (going to cheer up).

            “Fine,” I said, throwing my hands up in frustration, “but I don’t want to spend my time and money on sitting there with you like this. I’ve had enough. You’re behaving like a child.” And I made to go back home – and then I thought better of it, remembering that storming off isn’t really a very sensible thing to do. And then it all came out.

            I told her I thought she was being selfish, and I was tired of her being so cross with me. I told her I thought she was narcissistic – and not that I knew what that meant, I’d have to read up more – but that’s what I thought. I told her all this not expressing her feelings, and being so cold and mean all the time wasn’t working for me. I told her all – and when I say, “all,” I mean, a condensed, boiled down version – of the things that I’ve written about in this journal of late. And then, when I’d got it all out there, I felt better, and clearer, and actually quite fond of her. She was visibly upset, and all quiet and internal, and I put my arm on her back and tried to be consoling. But, at the same time, unbending in my assertions.

            We ate dinner. The food was good. And we talked.

            She cried a bit. She talked about how hard it was for her to express herself. She told me things that I’d done wrong too (nothing wrong with a bit of attack being the strongest form of defence in this kind of situation). And we sort of got closer. She surprised me with how well she took things. And I felt nothing but affection and sympathy for her.

            I listened. She cried. We ate. And we even made some jokes.

            Later, I said maybe I could help her, thinking back to Shane and his Mexico, “how do you feel?” technique that had done so much for me, and I wondered if I could pull it off, never having been that keen on it in the years since. She wants to, though; she knows it’s real. Even her singing teacher has said something about it. And she wonders if that’s where all the lyrics she’s unable to write are hiding. The heart of the onion. It may be time, soon, to have a go at peeling back the layers…

            Is life always this continuous process of expressing and getting out? Or is there a better way, given how momentarily messy and uncomfortable it can be? Or perhaps this is just normal. I do know, though, that her parents don’t express either – and I see where that led, her dad leaving without ever saying why, except in a letter afterwards detailing all the things he perceived her mum had done wrong over the years – like ironing too much – so it’s no surprise she’s like this. At the same time though, I do believe that one of our jobs in life is to take what our parents have given us and to improve on it. And to then pass it on to our children so that they may improve on it further still. So it’ll be good if she can crack this. And if I can somehow help her, that’ll be good for me too.

            We were in good spirits then; the best for some time. We went home and watched an episode of Max and Paddy, and laughed. We fell asleep, and then woke up an hour or so later, and had some good hot lovin’. I felt wonderfully fond of her. She’s a great girl. And all thoughts of “narcissism” and “selfishness” are, for now, put to one side and forgotten. The world is anew and who’s to say what the future brings. She sleeps now and I don’t know who she’ll be when she wakes up. A person can change in a moment. And so I’ll see what comes later.

            Tschus!