Don't Leave Me This Way: Or When I Get Back on My Feet You'll Be Sorry by Julia Fox Garrison Page B
Authors: Julia Fox Garrison
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times, get up eight times.”
“It’s pretty obvious what my goal will be,” you say, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. “I want to be a glamorous Hollywood movie star.”
He laughs. You stare at that lifeless, blank doll and then color in the right eye, resolving to heal your broken body.
The next time he brings you the most beautiful candy from Chinatown. Each piece is a work of art. They could have been glued in a frame. You don’t want to eat them because they’re so pretty, but then you decide to go for it. You take a big bite, expecting the beauty of the candy to enchant your tongue.
It doesn’t.
“What is it?” you ask as you try to think of a way to spit it out without hurting his feelings. Yoshi says, “It’s bean paste.” As soon as he says that, you don’t care about feelings. You only care about saving your taste buds from this foul trickery. You blast it right into a napkin.
After that episode, you enjoy offering this oriental “confection” to your guests.
YOUR FOLKS FILL ANY GAPS in the meal schedule. Dad brings you many meals. He calls too and says, “What do you feel like?” Then he goes to the pub below his office. You know he enjoys picking out your meals, because he orders all the things he enjoys but shouldn’t eat. Sometimes he brings elaborate meals and other times it’s something simple, like a burger and fries. Sometimes you’re so hungry, you’ll eat anything.
Except bean paste.
JASON, YOUR YOUNGEST BROTHER, doesn’t bring you meals. Instead, he brings you a steady diet of humor. He usually brings his milky morning beer breath too, while describing his single-life escapades. The rehab hospital is, conveniently enough, right next to the T station which is J.V.’s primary means of transportation. He is living at home with the folks in Andover while completing law school. On weekends he comes into Boston. He hangs out with his buddies, and then he strolls into your room on a Saturday or Sunday morning all ratty looking. Sometimes you get his funny visits coming and going.
You call him Bubbalubba. He describes his personal dating scene. One date he knew had ended early because he saw her slip out a side door with another guy. Once, you ask him what happened to the woman who had achieved girlfriend status (because he had more than one date with her).
He says, “I think we broke up.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because she had a party and didn’t invite me.”
Apparently she didn’t know she had a boyfriend.
The support system seems infinite. Between family and friends, you’re taken care of. One friend brought your absolute favorite chocolates, Stowaway Sweets. Not as pretty as the flower candy Yoshi brought, but it’s edible. And it’s real chocolate! To keep yourself in check, you make Jim keep the box out of reach and out of sight (“Put it on my left side”) and dole out two or three onto a tray before he leaves. You savor those chocolates every night and feel like a princess as you do.
You want to make sure that you don’t have any visitors who have a “pity attitude.” You don’t want the negative comments: “Oh I can’t believe this happened to you, Julia.” You want to keep yourself—and everyone else who crosses your threshold—positive. It’s a form of protection. Jim spreads the word. Your close friends understand.
Mom is in the room when Jim is working. Mom oversees the meal and visitor schedule. If you don’t have a lunch coming in with your brothers or friends, she’s there with a home-cooked meal—and it is never roast chicken on the bone! She is always mothering: straightening and cleaning the room, bringing in necessities, laundering your clothes, taking clothes home, washing them, folding them, putting them back, hanging cards, putting pictures up—you really appreciate her efforts. You know she has suffered, seeing her only daughter in this condition. You know that, for you, it would be agonizing to watch
“It’s pretty obvious what my goal will be,” you say, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. “I want to be a glamorous Hollywood movie star.”
He laughs. You stare at that lifeless, blank doll and then color in the right eye, resolving to heal your broken body.
The next time he brings you the most beautiful candy from Chinatown. Each piece is a work of art. They could have been glued in a frame. You don’t want to eat them because they’re so pretty, but then you decide to go for it. You take a big bite, expecting the beauty of the candy to enchant your tongue.
It doesn’t.
“What is it?” you ask as you try to think of a way to spit it out without hurting his feelings. Yoshi says, “It’s bean paste.” As soon as he says that, you don’t care about feelings. You only care about saving your taste buds from this foul trickery. You blast it right into a napkin.
After that episode, you enjoy offering this oriental “confection” to your guests.
YOUR FOLKS FILL ANY GAPS in the meal schedule. Dad brings you many meals. He calls too and says, “What do you feel like?” Then he goes to the pub below his office. You know he enjoys picking out your meals, because he orders all the things he enjoys but shouldn’t eat. Sometimes he brings elaborate meals and other times it’s something simple, like a burger and fries. Sometimes you’re so hungry, you’ll eat anything.
Except bean paste.
JASON, YOUR YOUNGEST BROTHER, doesn’t bring you meals. Instead, he brings you a steady diet of humor. He usually brings his milky morning beer breath too, while describing his single-life escapades. The rehab hospital is, conveniently enough, right next to the T station which is J.V.’s primary means of transportation. He is living at home with the folks in Andover while completing law school. On weekends he comes into Boston. He hangs out with his buddies, and then he strolls into your room on a Saturday or Sunday morning all ratty looking. Sometimes you get his funny visits coming and going.
You call him Bubbalubba. He describes his personal dating scene. One date he knew had ended early because he saw her slip out a side door with another guy. Once, you ask him what happened to the woman who had achieved girlfriend status (because he had more than one date with her).
He says, “I think we broke up.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because she had a party and didn’t invite me.”
Apparently she didn’t know she had a boyfriend.
The support system seems infinite. Between family and friends, you’re taken care of. One friend brought your absolute favorite chocolates, Stowaway Sweets. Not as pretty as the flower candy Yoshi brought, but it’s edible. And it’s real chocolate! To keep yourself in check, you make Jim keep the box out of reach and out of sight (“Put it on my left side”) and dole out two or three onto a tray before he leaves. You savor those chocolates every night and feel like a princess as you do.
You want to make sure that you don’t have any visitors who have a “pity attitude.” You don’t want the negative comments: “Oh I can’t believe this happened to you, Julia.” You want to keep yourself—and everyone else who crosses your threshold—positive. It’s a form of protection. Jim spreads the word. Your close friends understand.
Mom is in the room when Jim is working. Mom oversees the meal and visitor schedule. If you don’t have a lunch coming in with your brothers or friends, she’s there with a home-cooked meal—and it is never roast chicken on the bone! She is always mothering: straightening and cleaning the room, bringing in necessities, laundering your clothes, taking clothes home, washing them, folding them, putting them back, hanging cards, putting pictures up—you really appreciate her efforts. You know she has suffered, seeing her only daughter in this condition. You know that, for you, it would be agonizing to watch
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