OK, I think the week from hell is over

My brother came home from the hospital on Sunday. I had expected to go over there, run some errands for my Mom, come home and bang out a post. Only while there I was sitting on the sofa, stood, and didn't realize my foot fell asleep. When I put weight on it, it rolled and popped and hurt pretty bad, so instead of going home, I headed to the ER to be diagnosed with a bad sprain. Because I had to end the week with a bang, right? So I didn't get home from the ER until like 11:30 last night and then I was in no mood to write, so obviously no post today. What does this mean? Well, I'm supposed to be resting it all week and I can't go to the gym for two weeks (bummer) But, Jer can't take off all week from work, so I still have the kids during the day, but the rest of the time I'll be sitting on my butt. I'll have a post up by Friday (hopefully sooner, but giving myself a longer deadline just in case) and then hope to be back on schedule by Monday (so another post on Monday.) Again, I'm sorry. I know you guys understand, but I don't want this to be another blog that gets derailed. I just got thrown for a little loop but I'll be back on track :-)

Whatever Wednesday: I didn't want to stop whining this early.

Monday's post will probably be late. I'm sorry. I really didn't want to do that with this blog, and I had it handled by being ahead, but then I got knocked off kilter with the news of my cousin. Then, this morning, I woke up to more bad news: My brother had a heart attack. He's fine, now, or at least should be, but it was a pretty bad heart attack. His heart stopped, and they had to place a stent. He almost didn't call the squad (and actually hung up while calling them, but they called back.) He'll be in the hospital for a couple days, so I'll be there and here, and then my cousins wake is this Friday (and her funeral is Saturday, but I can't go to that.) I know you all understand, but I wanted to let you know what's going on. I'm still going to try to get it up on Monday, but it really just depends on how stuff is going. Again, I am so sorry. I really didn't want to start postponing stuff, ESPECIALLY this early, but I just didn't expect any of this.

New post below

Sorry it was later that it got posted. I've had it done since last week, and meant to post it this morning. Then I got a phone call from my Mom that my cousin on my Dad's side was struck by a drunk driver and killed last night. Now, my Dad's side of the family and I aren't close. We used to be, when I was younger, and then when my Grandma died it just all kind of fell apart. I had a lot of anger about it for a long time (I may have even talked about it before) because I feel like they should have made more of an effort (I was only in 5th grade when my Grandma died, so it wasn't like I knew enough to stay in touch.) Now I guess I'm just too bitter to re-build a relationship with them, but it does make me sad, especially when something like this happens. I'm not really sad for me, if that makes any sense. I knew Elissa's older sisters pretty well because they were closer in age to me, and I remember when Elissa was born, but I wasn't particularly close to her, and I honestly couldn't tell you the last time I saw her. But it just threw me for a loop. For one - she was only 19. For two, she had just had a baby girl, and now her daughter is mother less. I kept thinking about my kids - if it had been them that died, or me who died having to leave them. I kept thinking about her Mother, and sisters, and how very sad this whole situation is, and for what? I know people tend to say that suicide is the most selfish thing you can do, but I don't think that's true. Yes, suicide is pretty selfish. Yes, it hurts those you leave behind. But you don't take anyone with you. All Elissa was doing was riding her bike - and now she's gone, and why? Because some guy who was TWICE her age wanted to go out and have fun and couldn't be bothered to arrange another way of getting home. Couldn't be bothered to call a cab, call a friend, sleep it off in his car, or call one of the services who will come to where you are and take you home in your OWN car. Yes some of those means of getting home cost money, but alcohol isn't free, so you better budget it in or stay at home. A mother lost her daughter, a daughter lost her mother, sisters lost a sister, and many people lost a friend. Was it worth it? Of course it wasn't. It never is. But people keep doing it, and why? I know I've heard all the reasons - they don't think they're that drunk, they don't think it could happen to them, but why would you even want to take that chance? You want to gamble with your own life - whatever, but you shouldn't gamble with someone elses. So here's another story about someone who didn't think it could happen to them - and it did. I know the world is saturated with them, but apparently we still haven't learned our lesson. Please, PLEASE. If you think you MIGHT be a little buzzed, just call someone to get you. I know, I know it's a pain in the ass to find a ride, to find a way to get your car the next day, but what my family is now going through, making funeral arrangements and grieving is an even bigger pain in the ass, not to mention the jail time that hopefully the man who hit her will get.

Hand me a slice

I know it might seem like Slice of Life was handed to me, and I guess in a way it was, but that didn’t mean that Sunny and I didn’t bust our asses working for it. I didn’t even get a chance to grieve before I was thrust into the mess that Slice had become.

My Uncle had employed a small staff that tended to rotate about every four years. High school kids would come in as freshman and start out as dough tossers or bus boys and move up the ranks to delivery drivers. It was sort of an unspoken agreement that when you graduated, you moved on, and left your space for a freshman to take over and start the process all over again. So, when things got bad with my Uncle, there was no one really to take over the reins and try to get everything under control. I don’t want to imply that the kids didn’t care about the shop – the pizza place was a huge presence in our little town. My Uncle sponsored high school teams, helped with fundraisers, and it was also the local hang out spot. Parents didn’t mind their kids coming to hang out there because they knew my Uncle would keep an eye on things, and the kids respected him too much to bring trouble into his shop. It’s just, as kids, they didn’t know anything was going on – and if they did, there wasn’t much they could do about it.

The only two adults that my Uncle employed were M&M – an old married couple named Mona and Maurice. They had been around as long as I could remember, my Uncle joked that they came with the building when he bought it. They lived in the cutest little house around the corner from the shop. Maurice was officially the head chef, but unofficially, he was also the handy-man. If Maurice couldn’t fix it, you knew it was time to scrap it and replace it. Mona did a little bit of everything. Cooking, answering phones, back office stuff, and mothering the crap out of everyone that walked in the door (but she was the kind of mother you always wished you had). She once even filled in for a delivery driver when the driver had to have an emergency appendectomy. My Uncle probably could have done without Mona and Maurice, but I knew they reminded him of his parents, who had died, and he liked having them around. Everyone liked having them around.

Everyone except Richie.

I didn’t know it when I met him, but Richie was the trouble with the shop. I can’t for sure say that everything was his fault, but I have a very strong hunch that he started it, or at the very least contributed to it. I didn’t meet Richie until after my Uncle had died, and while I was surprised my Uncle had hired on another adult, I did think Richie seemed like a nice guy. The story goes that Richie offered to paint a mural on the side of my Uncle’s building, and then managed to get hired on after and even moved in to the spare room at the back of the shop. At first it seemed like a legit story, and he seemed to be really helpful, but then things just got…. Weird. When I first took over the shop, Richie seemed really helpful. He stepped up and filled in, even without us asking him too, and I was grateful. However, slowly, he started getting more and more possessive of the shop, and was dropping hints that he wanted Steph and I to let him manage it while we went back to school. I was not comfortable doing this, and neither was Stephanie. Richie was becoming more and more aggravated because of our hesitation. There was also an issue with the books. I don’t know if it’s because my Uncle was drinking more and just keeping shoddy records, but the numbers just weren’t adding up. It appeared as though someone had been stealing money from the business. I couldn’t say for sure that that’s what was going on, and I also couldn’t say for sure that my Uncle wasn’t in on it, but I do believe at the very least, Rich was too – because it started happening shortly after he showed up. One morning I came in to find that Mona and Maurice weren’t there, which was highly unusual. It never seemed to matter how early I came in, Mona was always there, wiping down tables and Maurice was in the back cooking breakfast and yelling at me that coffee was on. I was worried at first that something had happened, after all Mona and Maurice both were older and while they seemed in good health, you just never really knew. Still, I knew that if anything really bad had happened, someone would have gotten word to me, so I left my coat on and decided to swing by their house just to check.

When Mona let me in, I could tell she had been crying, and it broke my heart.

“Mona what’s wrong? Did something happen to Maurice?” I asked, placing an arm on her shoulder. She shrugged it off – which was when I really felt my heart crack. Mona was a very touchy feely person and I don’t think she ever rejected physical contact from anyone.

“Richie came over last night and gave us your message. I know you’re upset about your poor Uncle, but he was like a son to us and you a granddaughter. I know we’re old, and I know in this day people don’t want old people hanging around, but you could have told us in person Melanie, you or Stephanie.”

“Mona, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t tell Richie to tell you anything. What did he say?” I was truly bewildered. Richie had cornered me the night before to talk about some “changes” he had in mind – wanted to run them by me, but I had told him it would have to wait to be discussed later, and we had never gotten around to talking.

She studied my face for a moment, to see if I was telling the truth, and then nodded slowly.

“I didn’t think you could do something like this. I see now. Come in, eat some breakfast, and I will explain.”

Mona fixed breakfast, but I never got around to eating it, because as Mona told the story I lost my appetite. Apparently Richie came to their house after closing last night and told Mona and Maurice that he and I had talked and decided that we wanted to take the pizza shop in a different (younger) direction. He said they were no longer needed, and not to bother coming to the shop the next day. Mona had told him she wanted to discuss this with me, and he was insistent that she leave me alone – that I didn’t come because I didn’t want to be the one to hurt them, but that my decision was final and to leave me alone while I dealt with the mess the shop was in. I was angry when I left. Not only because Richie could lie like that, dismissing two people who I loved and who had worked very hard for my family, but also because had I for some reason not caught it… He could have opened us up to a lawsuit. You cannot fire someone because of their age, which is essentially what he did – or at least what he told them. I had sensed some tension between the M’s and Richie, and I suspected they knew what was really going on behind the scences, so he wanted them gone.

When I got back to the shop from Mona’s house (after telling them to take the day off while I dealt with Richie, but to please come back the next day,) Richie was there. And I could tell by the look on his face that he knew exactly where I had been and exactly just how angry I was.

“Lanie, I can explain, I tried to talk to you but…”

That’s when I exploded. I started by telling him that only my friends called me Lanie, and he and I were certainly not friends (which was a little juvenile, but I was 19, so what did you expect?) I then went on to let him know that I wasn’t sure what his game was, but that Stephanie and I were in charge of the shop, and that we would not be giving him any sort of control, and if he didn’t like it he could leave. That’s when another side of Richie came out – a meaner, colder side that he hadn’t shown me before. He told me that he and my Uncle were lovers, and he entered into a verbal contract with my Uncle stating if anything should happen, he wanted Richie to have the shop. I didn’t buy it, and neither did Stephanie when she arrived at the shop and heard the story. It’s not even buying that my Uncle was gay – for all I knew he was, but my Uncle would not have handed over his shop like that, not to someone who he hadn’t even mentioned to Stephanie or I. Richie tried to call us homophobs and told us he was taking us to a lawyer. I figured we didn’t need to worry about losing the shop, we had my Uncle’s will while all Richie had was a conversation that supposedly happened, but I was worried about all the money and time spent fighting him on this – and I wasn’t sure if the shop would make it through all that. So, I brought up the books, the missing funds, and questioning him on where the money went. He tried to play stupid, but I could tell my questioning was putting him on edge and making him agitated. So I started bluffing. I told him I had evidence that he had been taking money. I also bluffed and told him that his stealing had put my Uncle under so much stress and strain that it drove him to drink and commit suicide, so if he was found guilty of stealing the money, we could also go after him for wrongful death. (I have no idea if this was even possible, but I’m a pretty good bluffer – my Mom always told me I should become a lawyer.) After this, Richie didn’t say a word, but the next morning we woke up and his things were gone, and we haven’t seen or heard from him since. When a friend asked me if I thought Richie had killed my Uncle and made it look like a suicide, I immediately said no. I know how it could sound like that, but I think Richie was just a con man who happened into a situation and tried to take advantage of it.

So yes, in a way, we were handed Slice. But it was like being handed a lump of coal and told with enough effort it could be a diamond.

Sunny and I got a crash course in running your own business. And it’s pretty simple, actually. You think owning a business means being your own boss and doing whatever you want? Ha. It means you eat, breathe, and sleep that business. It means doing whatever needs done whenever it needs to be done. I once put in a sixteen hour day and went home and slept for an hour before I got a phone call saying a pipe had burst and I had to head back in to mop up water and deal with insurance claims (and we still opened that morning.) I got jealous of my friends cramming for finals because I knew while it sucked in the moment, their lack of sleep and stress was only temporary, while mine saw no end in sight. My business was like I imagine a colicky baby to be. It cried for attention all the time, and nothing I gave it every seemed to satisfy it. But, it was my baby, and I would and did give up my life for it willingly.

What do you think?

I'm considering starting another whatever Wednesday - maybe not necessarily on Wednesday, but whenever. I'm assuming all of you are here from the other blog, and I know I talked about my kids occasionally and I didn't know if anyone would want to see/here more about them. I know some friends followed me from Cosmo's bedroom blog - I started talking to them before my oldest was born and he's about to be four here in a couple months. How crazy is that, huh? Anyway, let me know your thoughts. It may not even be every week, just every once in awhile. My boys are huge now, I think y'all would be surprised :-)

Mustaches and Memories

(Sorry for the delay, I've been home and had this ready to go for awhile and got sucked into pinterest.) I expected the guys to leave after our conversation, and was surprised when they hung around.

“We’re not keeping you up, are we?” Noah asked, and then added “or keeping you from bleaching your mustache?” with a wink.

I felt myself turn pink. “I don’t have a mustache!” I protested, and even though I knew Noah was only teasing, I had to keep myself from getting pissed off.

“Don’t worry, Mel. Hottest ‘stache I’ve ever seen.” John said, smirking at me.

“Mustaches turn you on, eh? Is that why you’ve never made a pass at me? Batting for the other team?” I shot back. Honestly, my boldness surprised me, especially when it came to John, but I had a quick mouth, and sometimes it shot off before my brain had time to filter it.

I think I saw a hint of a blush creep up on John’s face, but his skin tone made it hard to tell. I had to make myself stare him down, even though at this point my brain HAD caught up, and man was I mortified.

“Ooooh, she’s got you there, bro.” Noah said, laughing.

“Well, now if I make a pass at you, you’ll think I’m just doing it to prove something.” John finally countered back.

I’ll admit, I was disappointed, but I tried hard to hide that disappointment. I felt stupid enough, and I wanted it to come across as a joke. I was struggling with what to respond with when Noah chimed in:

“Well, now if you don’t, it’ll seem like you’re staying in the closet. But, whatever you’re comfortable with.” Noah said, nudging John on his way to the kitchen to get another beer.

“You don’t really think I’m gay, do you?” John asked.

“I don’t really know. I was just kidding, but I don’t suppose it matters either way.” I said, shrugging. John was watching me, and it unnerved me. Still, I forced myself to meet his eye.

“Well. For the record, I’m not. Not that it does matter.” He said, winking at me.

“Are you going to prove it?” I quipped back. There I went again, my mouth speaking before my brain had a chance to proofread. It was too late to take it back, so I just held his gazed and hoped that my blush wasn’t showing as much as I felt it was. John opened his mouth – actually it looked like I took him by surprise and his mouth dropped, but I didn’t have time to over analyze anything, nor did John have time to respond before Noah popped back in the room.

“So. I’m having signs made up and –“

“You’re having signs made? Can’t get your pretty hands dirty making them yourself, huh?” I said with a smirk.

“ACTUALLY, for your information, the kids made them. I knew Sunny would want to get them involved in some way. But, I didn’t know if she wanted to keep them and I also didn’t want the ink to run if they got wet, so I took them in to get laminated.” Noah was actually a teacher – which, to be honest, I think surprised a lot of people to find out when they saw him. The way he was built I think a lot of people looked at him and automatically assumed he did some sort of hands-on manly work. But, no. Noah was a second grade teacher.

“Anyway, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted,” he paused, giving me a look. “I need someone to drop them off at the Pier this week. They’ll keep them in the control booth at the ride and then hand it to us when we get on. Can either one of you do it?”

I was about to say that I would go. Owning the business meant that I put in a lot of hours, but it also meant my hours could be a little more flexible. Don’t get me wrong, I could plan all I wanted and if someone called in sick, I’d have to step in, but on the flip side of that I could also do my paperwork at home at night and take an afternoon to go in to the Pier.

“Melanie and I could go together. Scope it out? Maybe practice what we’re going to do.”

I looked up in surprise. “You and I go?”

“Yeah. I mean, unless you’re busy. I can just go by myself then.”

“No, I mean. I can get an afternoon off. What do you mean by practice though, because I’m not riding that thing until I absolutely have to.” I said, trying to recover.

“Don’t worry, I won’t force you to ride anything, but we can check out the pictures, see where the camera is, maybe check out a few games to see which is the most believable for you to lose at – though I suppose any of them would be believable considering you’re up against my awesome athletic abilities.”

“I don’t think I can go with you John, I don’t think your ego would fit in my car.” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Oh, then I guess we’ll just have to take mine.” He shot back.

“If you two are done with your pissing contest, maybe you could set a date for this little outing?” Noah asked.

“Barring any emergencies, I should be able to get out of work any afternoon this week. So it’s up to you.” I said, looking at John.

“Friday’s are the easiest days for me to get out early. So, Friday around noon? I’ll swing by and pick you up at the shop?”

“Sounds good.”

They stayed a little longer, and we all just shot the breeze, going from one topic to another. John told embarrassing stories about Noah from college and Noah let him know which ones could be used in his best man speech and which ones were banned. Then I told stories about Sunny, Noah and I from grade school and up, reliving high school. I tried to avoid the stories where my Uncle was a main part, and Noah seemed to pick up on that and avoid those stories too.

I’m sure John knew what happened, but I hadn’t been the one to tell him, nor did I want to be. There were two reasons for this. The first is the easier, obvious answer: it still hurt too damn much to talk about, and I didn’t want to bring everyone down by crying. The second reason was… Well, people usually pissed me off in their response to the story. Either they were all sympathetic – which was annoying, I didn’t need anyone to feel sorry for me, or they said something stupid like “well at least you got the business out of it.” – And yes, people did say that to me, a lot more often than you think. I know that they were just trying to find the positive in a negative, but it hurt more than anything else anyone said. As if the business was any sort of replacement for my Uncle, for my cousin who I had lost in the aftermath of it all. As if I wouldn’t give it all back and then some for him to be here with us now. So I tried to keep quiet about it, and I tried not to think about it. I know people were just trying to be nice, trying to find something to comfort me, but sometimes you need to acknowledge that there’s nothing you can say except what a crappy situation, and you’re sorry it happened.

Of course, it was easy to remain upbeat and ignore the obvious when they were both here, reminiscing and laughing. It was easy to be distracted. But, then they left to go home to their own places, and I was left with the quiet. I wanted to call Sunny, tell her about everything that went on tonight and gush about John (she was the only person to know about my sort of crush on him.) But then of course, even if I left out the marriage proposal part she’d figure out something was up. Noah and I are friends, but I can’t tell you the last time he randomly popped by to shoot the shit with me. And I’d want to freak out about spending time alone with John on Friday, and how could I explain that without it sounding like a date, which it was not? I considered, for a brief moment calling Stephanie, but... I always felt weird calling her when I was sad, she used to be able to pick up on it so well, and so what if she still could? What if she asked me what was wrong? Steph had a strict "don't talk about Dad" rule, and for awhile it made me angry, I now realized it was just her way of dealing with things.

So I did what I always did when I got like this – I grabbed a beer, I turned on some sad music, and I dug through my box of memories. My box wasn’t all about my Uncle, but he was a very large part of it – in pictures, in cards he had given me for my birthday, in ticket stubs to movies I went with him and Steph and playbills and mementos from trips we all took together.

It might seem a little depressing, or even a little morbid, and I suppose it was. But that was life, wasn’t it? Taking the good with the bad. Ripping off the band-aid to see how the wound was healing?

There will be a post up today - I decided at the last minute to add something between the last post and the one I had written for today, and it is pretty much done, I just haven't had time to post it (the new blogger is weird, and if I just copy and paste it in, it looks weird, so it takes longer to just post) I would have had it done but Eli woke up last night at 3 am with a random fever and was up for an hour. He's fine now but he slept in until 11!!! (AND I got to enjoy it because Cayden was staying at my sisters!) But, it threw me off schedule for today and I haven't had time to post it.The good news is this means that next week post is already done and won't be late :-) I also was all butt hurt because I thought no one was commenting and I was like "ohhhh they hate it!" but it turns out for some reason this account is sending comment notifications to my gmail and not my regular email, so I was pleased to come on and see that there were comments and you guys seem to like it! So, if I didn't respond, don't think I was ignoring you, I only just found them! I'm going out now to meet a friend, but look for a post probably around ten or 11 est time.

The backstory

I would do anything for Sunny, to be honest. You know when you’re growing up, and your best friend gets to do something and you whine that you should be able to as well, and your parents respond with “if Sunny jumped off a bridge, would you?” Well, my answer would be no, I wouldn’t, unless Sunny asked me to. If she asked, I would be right behind her, and I wouldn’t even ask her why. I know that probably sounds reckless, but I know that Sunny would never ask me to do anything that she didn’t need me to do – and Sunny has also been there for me, unconditionally, through some really rocky times.

We grew up in a small suburb outside of Chicago. I was the youngest of three to a single Mother who worked all the time and went to school in the time she wasn’t working. I used to be really resentful of this fact, but as I grew older I realized that my Mother wasn’t perfect and was just trying to do what she needed to do to ensure the ends met and try to better things for all of us – but that’s another story. I spent a lot of time split between Sunny’s house and spending time with my Uncle and my cousin Stephanie at his pizza shop.

Stephanie was my runner up best friend, and probably the only reason she didn’t out rank Sunny was because she was a year older, so we were in different classes at school. Sunny was my weekday best friend. Stephanie was my weekend best friend, and I spent every weekend and pretty much every holiday break I had either in the pizza shop or in the apartment my Uncle owned and lived in above the pizza shop. I grew up there. My Uncle treated me as his own, and even though I griped about being put to work or being punished for dropping an f bomb in front of him, I secretly loved it. I do think it’s true that all kids want discipline, and at my own home my Mom could barely pause long enough to plop the McDonalds bag in front of us for dinner, let alone do things like check my homework or enforce curfew, so being there gave me the discipline I so desperately craved.

I grew up at Slice of Life, and as soon as I was old enough, I was legally put to work making pizzas and then delivering them, until I was 18 and graduated from high school. Of course, when you’re 18, you not only know everything, but you also know that your home town is smothering you and you just need to get away. Stephanie had decided the same thing the year before, and had left to go to a small college in Pittsburgh. I opted for Ohio State, six hours away from home, four hours away from Stephanie. Sunny chose to stay in Chicago, near Noah.

Things were going great, and I was living up the college life – studying hard, partying harder. In fact, I was just heading out to a party to celebrate finishing my finals and moving on to becoming a sophomore when I got the text from Stephanie. “On a greyhound headed ur way. B there in n hr. Mom says we have 2 head home, won’t tell me y. Pack & pick me up @the station, plz.”

I was worried, but not insanely so. My Aunt had a tendency to over-react, and while I loved her, she had a ton of issues.

“What do you think is going on?” I asked Steph as we pulled onto the freeway that would take us out of Ohio and on our way home.”

“Don’t know. Maybe Mom’s going to rehab again.”

I snorted. “Probably, but do we really need to go home for that?”

She was quiet for a moment. “You think Dad’s alright? I tried to call him, he didn’t answer.”

It was then when I first felt the fear creep in and settle in my stomach – like I had swallowed a cold, hard stone. I tried to ignore it. I wasn’t sure why I felt it, but it was there.

“I’m sure he’s fine. Your Mom probably told him not to talk to us, you know how she is. She probably knows he’ll tell us the news and it’ll be something stupid and we won’t come home right away.”

Stephanie nodded, and though I wanted to believe my own words, I stepped on the gas a little to speed up the journey that would take us home.

I drove all night, neither one of us talking much, and despite my urging her too, Stephanie didn’t sleep. When I pulled into my Aunt’s driveway and saw my Mother’s car sitting next to the garage, I couldn’t help but take in a sharp breath. It was five in the morning. My Mother was never out at five in the morning unless she was leaving for work. My Aunt announcing she was going to rehab again wouldn’t have warranted my Mother missing work. Something was seriously wrong.

I can’t remember much about that night. I don’t remember who said what or how they said it. I remember that they didn’t even let us into the house first, instead stopping us in the enclosed porch. My Mother sat on a couch to the left with me, my Aunt and my cousin on the right side.

My Uncle had gone to a hotel room the night before and committed suicide. He was gone.

At the time, we didn’t know the why – and to be honest, the why is something I still struggle with. I hadn’t known things were bad. I hadn’t known he was sad, or struggling. I didn’t know that he had started drinking again, and that it had begun to affect his business to the point where he risked losing it. I don’t know why he didn’t tell anyone, or ask for help. Part of me thinks that he was too ashamed, part of me thinks that maybe after everything Steph’s Mom had put her through with her own drinking, he didn’t want to do that to Steph as well. But, I can’t imagine why he would have felt that leaving us would be the best thing for everyone. I still feel guilty about leaving to go to school, I still worry that he felt abandoned, and maybe if I had stayed… I don’t know. All I know for sure is that whatever was going on, he felt so alone and desperate that death was the only way out for him.

I never planned to take over the shop, even though in his will, my Uncle left it to both Stephanie and I. At first the plan was to stay the summer and try to find a buyer, and return to school in the fall. But the end of summer came and the only offers we had were for pieces of the shop – people wanting to buy our ovens or our customer list, so while Steph packed up to go back to Pittsburgh, I deferred and stayed behind, planning on returning the next semester. Then came the reality that I wasn’t going to be able to sell the shop as a whole, and the shop was in serious financial trouble stemming from my Uncle mismanaging funds while he was drinking. I had the choice. I could sell the shop off piece by piece and be done with it, or I could quit school and use my college fund to bail the shop out.

I knew I would catch a lot of crap when I decided to stay and take over the shop. My Mother lectured me on how important it was to finish college, and my Aunt worried that I was doing this because I felt obligated to my Uncle. I expected it from them. What I didn’t expect was the backlash that came from Stephanie.

I had assumed she’d be grateful, willing to be a silent partner. After all, she had grown up here too, it was her Dad’s heart and soul, and she could still go to school and chase her dreams while I did the grunt work. My plan was to get the shop thriving again, and then hire a manager and go do my own thing. I realized it would be hard work, but there was always time for college and stuff, how many 19 year olds could say that they owned their own business?

Stephanie, however, did not feel the same way. She didn’t want me to keep it, she wanted me to sell, and she thought I was being irresponsible and trying to hold on to her Dad’s memory, which was “Childish. You need to grow up and move on. He’s gone.” I wasn’t able to afford to buy her out and build up the business, and so this caused us to get into the biggest blow out of our lives. We had fought before, of course, but never in such a vicious manner. No holds barred, no blow too low, we went at it. And when we were done, and no resolution had been reached, with Steph’s threat of hiring a lawyer ringing in my ears, I called Sunny, bawling.

I let it all out. The guilt, how Steph had told me that it was her father, not mine, and that I had no right to take over like this, and how much it hurt to realize that legally I wasn’t his daughter, but I loved him like a father and I just wanted to do what I thought he would want. How everyone accused me of doing it to try to hold on to him, and if I was, so what? It was all I had left. I finally even broke about how God damned angry I was that he had left without giving any of us a reason – and how because I didn’t have a reason, I never knew how I should feel. Do I feel guilty? Angry? Hurt? Happy that maybe he’s finally found some peace?

Sunny didn’t say a word. She stayed on the phone with me until she reached my apartment, and then stayed up all night while I ranted, screamed, cried, and even laughed. She stayed with me until I finally passed out in pure emotional exhaustion. The next morning when I woke up, there was a note on my pillow that simply said:
Called Steph. Hope you like your new partner ;-)

Stephanie and I never really repaired our relationship. We do see each other from time to time, and I would still call her a friend, but she’s not the best friend that she was. I still hope that one day we’ll be able to repair what we had, but as time goes on, I’m not sure we will. There’s just so much there, and at first it was too raw to work on, and now it seems like it’s been so long that I don’t even know where to start.

I would, however, do anything for Sunny, because when I really needed her, she was not only there for me emotionally, but put her own savings on the line to help me rebuild a business simply because she knew how much it meant to me.

Sunny Days

There are occasions where I look in the mirror, and I can’t see past the ugly.

That sounds super dramatic, right? But, I think every girl knows what I’m talking about. Overall, I don’t think that I am ugly, but there are just some days I look in the mirror and can only see every bad feature that I have. My lips are shaped oddly and therefore give me perpetual duck face, my skin tone is uneven, my pores are huge, my hair is too long and there are grays… I could go on and on and on.

Sometimes when this happens, I sit and feel sorry for myself while eating ice cream. Hey, if I’m ugly, I might as well be fat too, right? Other times, tonight happens. I decide that it’s not that I’m ugly, I’ve just been neglecting myself, and I go into full on makeover mode.

First, I called and ordered pizza from the shop I own (hey, makeover are hard work, and I need the carbs for energy!) Then, I climbed into the first tee shirt I got when I worked at the shop and pulled on a pair of boxers stolen from an ex-boyfriend. I went into the kitchen and I mixed up a mayo, egg, and beer mixture that I coated onto my hair. It smells disgusting and I’m not sure if it actually works or not. It was one of those remedies my sister swore too, but I was never really sure if she did it just to fuck with me (she once told me that washing my hair with water from the toilet would make my hair shinier. This is why mothers should never put older sisters in charge of bathing their little sisters.) Come to think of it though, she did use it on her own hair, so maybe she did believe it really worked…

Anyway, after this was done, I wrapped my head in plastic wrap – which, isn’t as easy to do as it sounds. I told myself I was doing this to lock in the moisture, but really I didn’t want to drip egg onto my couch while letting it soak into my hair. Once that was finished, I slathered on some green facial mask that kind of burns a little, but I figured that just means it was working. When that was done, I sat down on my sofa, a chick flick playing in the background, and got to work taming my unruly eyebrows. I was so engrossed in what I was doing, that I almost missed the knock at the door.

Pizza. Finally. But… I touched my plastic wrap hair and felt my hardened face and remembered the green goo. Did I want to answer the door looking like this? Who was working tonight? I mentally ran through the schedule and realized it was Paul, the shy geeky kid who had a crush on me. Oh, well, maybe it’ll be good for him to see me like this.

“Coming!” I shouted as I padded over to the door. I reached for my purse and pulled out the cash. Since I owned the place, I didn’t have to pay for the pizza itself, but I did still tip the drivers – I had been a driver before, and I knew how badly the job could suck.

I opened the door, and instead of geeky Paul standing there holding my pizza, stood two very non-geeky men. My mouth would have hit the floor had my facemask not stiffened to the point where I couldn’t move my face.

“Oh, sorry Lanie… I should have called…”

Guy number one (the one who spoke) was Noah Days. I didn’t mind so much looking like this in front of him – he’s cute in your total boy next door type of way (a little short, but stocky, blue eyes, dimples, sandy blonde hair that he has a tendency of letting get a tad too long.) But he’s been my best friends boyfriend since… Well, forever. They met in second grade, and together we formed some sort of weird three musketeers – he even took both of us to prom. He’s seen me at my best, and at my worst, and so this was not a big deal.

Guy number two however, was Noah’s college roommate and best male friend, John Westover. There was something about John that unnerved me, but not in a bad way. You know how love songs always talk about birds appearing and not being able to speak around someone? Yeah, that was me with John. The first few times we hung out I couldn’t even look him in the eye – it was just too intense for me to handle, so I spent the night looking at his nose and hoping it didn’t look like I had some weird nose fetish. He wasn’t even my typical guy – he was average height, black hair that he let grow too long in the front and he had the habit of rubbing his hands through so it spiked up, chocolate brown eyes, olive skin, and a dimple on just his left cheek. But, there was something about him, something I couldn’t put my finger on, but to say I was mortified to be caught looking like this in front of him would be the understatement of the century.

“Noah… John… Hi. Uh. Come in?” I said, backing to allow them to enter. “I’m just gonna…” I said, gesturing to my face.

“Lanie I didn’t mean to put you out, I should have called, should we come back another time?”

“No, no… It’s fine, I just… I have pizza on the way, tip the driver, I’ll be out in ten.” I said, trying not to sprint to the bathroom.

In record time I was cleaned and scrubbed, wearing no make-up (I couldn’t now look like I was trying, could I?) but wearing the yoga pants that made my butt look fantastic. When I re-entered the living room, both guys had made themselves at home, sprawled out on my sofa, chowing down on my pizza.

“You clean up nice, Mel.” Noah cracked, smiling.

“If I had known you were coming, I would have ordered more pizza.” I said, taking a slice from a now almost empty box.

“And you probably wouldn’t have been in your weird girl-gear either.” Noah tacked on.

“Green’s your color, Melanie.” John added, winking at me.

I smiled sarcastically at the two of them. “I have more mask in there, if the two of you are interested.”

“Now Mel, you aren’t suggesting that I need help with my rugged good looks, are you? This is all natural.” Noah said, stroking his own face appreciatively.

“I can tell.” I said, folding myself into an easy chair across from them. “So. What brings you two studs to my house on a Saturday night?”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be home or not, but with Sunny gone at her Mom’s, I needed to talk to you alone.”

Sunshine was my best friend, and yes, her real name is Sunshine. Sunshine Meadows to be exact (and no, neither one of us knows what her parents were smoking to think that giving her that kind of name was OK.) Her name actually suited her – she not only had the long, shiny blonde hair that I’m sure you picture someone named Sunny would have, but she also had a pretty cheerful disposition. If Sunny wasn’t smiling, you better assume the world was coming to an end. Sunny and I lived together, we had ever since I dropped out of college and moved back home. Sunny was staying at her Mom’s house this weekend to help her recover from a minor ankle surgery.

“And you needed to see me without Sunny because?” I asked, taking a bite of pizza.

“I’m going to ask Sunny to marry me, and I need your help.”

“FINALLY!” I blurted out, with my mouth full. “How are you going to do it?”

“That’s where I’m going to need your help. I got tickets to the Pier. I’m going to tell her I won them at work, and invite you and John to go with us. We’re all going to ride the log ride they have, and at the drop where they take your pictures, we’re going to hold up signs that say ‘will you marry me?’ We'll make it so Sunny is in the front and won't see until we get off.”

“That’s really cute and all, but it’s never going to work. Sunny knows I’d never willingly ride a death trap like that.” I said, shaking my head. I was terrified of heights, and practically all amusement park rides.

“We’ve already figured that part out.” Noah said, glancing at John.

“Sunny knows you’re competitive, right?” John asked. I nodded. “So am I. We’re going to walk by a game. I’m going to bet you all that I can beat you. Sunny won’t care, and neither will Noah, but you take me up on the bet. I tell you if I win, you have to ride the log ride. You throw the game.”

“It works out perfectly because when we get off the ride, we tell Sunny that we HAVE to check out the pictures just to see your face, and she’ll see the signs in the pictures. I’ll stand behind her and get down on one knee, and when she turns around to look at me…”

“What do I get for putting my life on the line like that?” I asked, only half joking.

“You get to be maid of honor in your best friends wedding.” Noah said, smiling.

“And you get to walk down the aisle on the arm of a guy who looks pretty hot in a tux.” John said, winking at me.

“When does this all go down?” I said, sighing loudly and trying to ignore the though of John in a tux.

“Next weekend.”

“You know I wouldn’t do this for anyone else but Sunny, right?” I grumbled.