Two weeks ago, I went to the wedding of my ex-boss's sister, with my ex-employee friend Rose, who so happened to be cousins with my ex-boss's baby's daddy. Following me so far? It was your average southern Arizona wedding. Invitations created and copied at Kinkos, a cake from Costco, and a four-month pregnant blushing bride.
At a wedding this size, it's almost natural to run into someone you know. And that's exactly what happened to Rose. She ran into an old family friend and her 17-year old son, Jesse. Immeadiately 21-year old Rose was smitten and spent the entire wedding reception talking to Jesse, leaving me to babysit her annoying 16-year old sister.
The following week, Rose asked me if I would help her move into her new house. She was tired of living the life of an apartment dweller, and bought a small, two-bedroom house in central Tucson for her daughter Katrina and her. As we packed Rose and Katrina's life away into boxes, I could tell Rose was genuinally happy. She had a new home, a daughter who always made her smile, and a new man in her life. She was moving foward. And being that she was a high school drop out/unwed mother, it was important to Rose to move foward and away from being just another statistic. Her life was running smoothly, unlike the car that followed us.
On our last trip from the apartment to the house, a dark car followed us shining very high headlights and turning them off every so often. It was very cheesy-teen-horror-flick, which at first freaked us out, but when we saw it was a huge van, we laughed. How cliché would it be for the van driver to blow out our tires and harvest our organs right there in the van? As it turns out, the very idea was very likely.
Last Saturday, Rose held a birthday party for Katrina in their new house. It was a Little Mermaid party that lasted well into the night, and since I was clearly under the sea of a drunken state, I stayed the night. As did Jesse.
I was just getting ready to watch MTV's Yo Momma, when all of a sudden I heard a loud crash. Not two seconds later, a half-naked Jesse ran into the room, followed by a topless, pink-pantie wearing Rose. I stared at the two, almost stark-naked, lovers and wondered how violent that momma and her boy made love. It was then that we heard a pounding on the back door.
ME: Rose! What's going on?!
ROSE: Damien is here!
ME: What?! Why?!
ROSE: That muthafucker broke my window!
Damien was the father of Rose's baby, and apparently, just like Jesse, he was trying to make a late-night visit through the back door. Within a matter of seconds, Damien broke the door down, pointed to Jesse and attacked. It was like a live Jerry Springer show and I had front row seats. Katrina was crying, Rose was screaming, and Damien was swinging, trying to get away from Jesse's headlock. I of course, sat on the living room couch with a bowl of chips watching the whole thing.
ROSE: David! Help me!
ME: Are you kidding me? I cant scrap.
ROSE: You're a guy!
ME: Yeah, for procreation, not combat! Besides, Jesse has it under control.
Which was true. Despite being six years older and more experienced than Jesse, Damien was getting his ass kicked like nobody's business.
ME: I wonder if Damien is embarassed. Poor guy. Cant even get in a few punches. Damn! Ouch! Ok, so I guess I better mentally note not to ever piss off Jesse. Hmmm. I should also probably tell Rose she has a tear in her underwear. So not sexy. Oh God. Rose, dont fight! You're not even wearing a bra! Wow, those are big! How are Jesse and Damien not even distracted? Maybe they're gay...oh wouldnt that be a cool twist?
But the only twisting going on, was Damien's arm. Damien ran out of the house, crying and cursing Rose. Rose tended to Jesse's wounds and Katrina's crying, while I looked out into the front yard. There was Damien, driving away in a dark van.
Once the excitment had died down, I started to wonder if Rose was mad at me. When someone from your past gets into a fight with someone in your present, and your friends just sit and watch it happen, how likely would you include them in your future? The more I think about it, the more I wished I would have intervened and stopped Jesse and Damien. But I didnt and as a result, Rose recieved a broken hand and probably a broken spirit. I feel like I should talk to Damien, and tell him that if Rose had moved on, then maybe he should as well. But if I cant even talk to my own stalker (aka Paul) how can I talk to another?
At a wedding this size, it's almost natural to run into someone you know. And that's exactly what happened to Rose. She ran into an old family friend and her 17-year old son, Jesse. Immeadiately 21-year old Rose was smitten and spent the entire wedding reception talking to Jesse, leaving me to babysit her annoying 16-year old sister.
The following week, Rose asked me if I would help her move into her new house. She was tired of living the life of an apartment dweller, and bought a small, two-bedroom house in central Tucson for her daughter Katrina and her. As we packed Rose and Katrina's life away into boxes, I could tell Rose was genuinally happy. She had a new home, a daughter who always made her smile, and a new man in her life. She was moving foward. And being that she was a high school drop out/unwed mother, it was important to Rose to move foward and away from being just another statistic. Her life was running smoothly, unlike the car that followed us.
On our last trip from the apartment to the house, a dark car followed us shining very high headlights and turning them off every so often. It was very cheesy-teen-horror-flick, which at first freaked us out, but when we saw it was a huge van, we laughed. How cliché would it be for the van driver to blow out our tires and harvest our organs right there in the van? As it turns out, the very idea was very likely.
Last Saturday, Rose held a birthday party for Katrina in their new house. It was a Little Mermaid party that lasted well into the night, and since I was clearly under the sea of a drunken state, I stayed the night. As did Jesse.
I was just getting ready to watch MTV's Yo Momma, when all of a sudden I heard a loud crash. Not two seconds later, a half-naked Jesse ran into the room, followed by a topless, pink-pantie wearing Rose. I stared at the two, almost stark-naked, lovers and wondered how violent that momma and her boy made love. It was then that we heard a pounding on the back door.
ME: Rose! What's going on?!
ROSE: Damien is here!
ME: What?! Why?!
ROSE: That muthafucker broke my window!
Damien was the father of Rose's baby, and apparently, just like Jesse, he was trying to make a late-night visit through the back door. Within a matter of seconds, Damien broke the door down, pointed to Jesse and attacked. It was like a live Jerry Springer show and I had front row seats. Katrina was crying, Rose was screaming, and Damien was swinging, trying to get away from Jesse's headlock. I of course, sat on the living room couch with a bowl of chips watching the whole thing.
ROSE: David! Help me!
ME: Are you kidding me? I cant scrap.
ROSE: You're a guy!
ME: Yeah, for procreation, not combat! Besides, Jesse has it under control.
Which was true. Despite being six years older and more experienced than Jesse, Damien was getting his ass kicked like nobody's business.
ME: I wonder if Damien is embarassed. Poor guy. Cant even get in a few punches. Damn! Ouch! Ok, so I guess I better mentally note not to ever piss off Jesse. Hmmm. I should also probably tell Rose she has a tear in her underwear. So not sexy. Oh God. Rose, dont fight! You're not even wearing a bra! Wow, those are big! How are Jesse and Damien not even distracted? Maybe they're gay...oh wouldnt that be a cool twist?
But the only twisting going on, was Damien's arm. Damien ran out of the house, crying and cursing Rose. Rose tended to Jesse's wounds and Katrina's crying, while I looked out into the front yard. There was Damien, driving away in a dark van.
Once the excitment had died down, I started to wonder if Rose was mad at me. When someone from your past gets into a fight with someone in your present, and your friends just sit and watch it happen, how likely would you include them in your future? The more I think about it, the more I wished I would have intervened and stopped Jesse and Damien. But I didnt and as a result, Rose recieved a broken hand and probably a broken spirit. I feel like I should talk to Damien, and tell him that if Rose had moved on, then maybe he should as well. But if I cant even talk to my own stalker (aka Paul) how can I talk to another?
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