Cancun Nights (February 21, 2008) Wednesday

I have to remember to pack my French grammar book so I can study and not make a complete fool of myself, when I leave for Paris in February. At least I'll never forget how to politely order coffee in Paris. I wonder what my sister would be like in Europe. She hasn't bee back in 15 years, and she is much more Americanized than I am. And, she is less tolerant of people, and she hates easily.

In Cancun, there was a boy named Damen (Damiano in Italian), who was from Calgary, Canada. He was nice enough, but made some comment about the girl who was sharing his hotel room being a last resort lay. Those words were his death sentence in my sister's eyes. I looked past that comment, entertained by his interest, I was condemned to stifle any hint of attraction. Every minute it was another snide comment. They served as reminders to "not try anything." One night, we all went to a foam party at a club called, Basic. I was doing my usual rounds, dancing and kissing total strangers (sometimes not even bothering to ask them their names). I also danced on an elevated platform, which had a pole running through the center of it. I wasn't wearing a shirt (just a bikini top). And, then the bartender who was watching me danced propsed we do some body shots. My friends would go first, Mike and Nick. Nick at the time was my sister's boyfriend's 18-year-old brother who crammed his neck between my legs to suck out the contents of a shot. Then, my friend Mike asked Damen. He looked as hesitant as I did as I quickly scanned the dance floor for my sister. Grabbing the lime from in between my lips, I could feel his tongue lingering, and he kept it wedged in there much longer than "necessary". A few more rounds in, who does my sister see me with? Damen. She calls me a slut, and calls him an asshole, and prepares to lecture me, completely slaying the ambiance. I ignore her, and find a skinny Brit to dance with.

Noah. I can't stand him. Especially since he tried to kiss me and stroke my hair on an excuse he called a bed. I tried to distract him by feigning interest by inquiring about the art that was hanging on the walls.  

February 23, 2008 Friday

Arguments over drumsticks colored our house red over the holidays. Someone always ended up leaving the table with broken teeth. Every birthday, christening, Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter were celebrated at our home. Naturally, because it was the largest and in a painfully dull suburb 20 minutes outside of Manhattan. We were the 4 star hotel for our out of town family members. My parents bought this house when I was half way through elementary school. My father paid in cash. It's on a quiet block overlooking the bay with neat and uniform upper middle class homes. Every house has a veranda and a swimming pool. And, lawns and roses are in a constant, but unspoken competition. Neighbors are greeted with generic "Hi's" which are followed by some rehearsed comment about the weather. Our house has an inviting pull. It's brown, white and old brick, and has carved roses and other floral accents on the main door and shutters.

Break the quiet. Tired of the shouting.
She desperately wanted to get out.
Her silences were always broken by church bells. 

February 26, 2009 Monday

I haven't heard from Will in a couple of days, he must be on vacation I keep telling myself. What I would give to see him play his guitar one last time. Paradise would be men and him, ageless, timeless, romping around Eden. God could make everything forbidden except him.

I don't know why, but I've always had a strong urge to please my father. I guess this is where Freud would come in with something clever about my childhood. And, he wouldn't be completely off. Growing up, my sister, Lenna was my father's favorite. She was pretty and thin with big hazel eyes. She was his spitting image. I was awkward and chubby, my head always buried in a book. I spent most of my time cooped up in my room, away from the rest of my family who sat together in the living room. I felt unwanted. I felt like an imposition. I often wondered if it's more likely that my mother slept with some other man. Their marriage has always been rocky and turbulent. In it's last years it was violent, dangerous and destructive, emotions were charged and everything hung precariously off a single fragile thread.

I won't lie. I'm slightly nervous about my procedure tomorrow. And, I know I should shave and be ready to present myself in the buff to some complete stranger. I really hope he's not a man.

February 25, 2008 Sunday

Satuday Night Out. In the city with the girls, Kimon and Andrew. I should make sure Christie and her boyfriend can come.
Tomorrow- Brazilian consulate
St. Mark's Place
Buy bowl         clean room
Shave legs
LX
Green tea pills
Buy 2 marble notebooks
Memory card from Staples