Between The Stillness In My Heart And The Roar Of The Approaching Night

Sometimes togetherness is a wonderful thing. The sad part of our closest relationships is that the little irritants that lie between us are so rarely overlaid with patience and compassion and love and even more rarely become polished this way into emotional pearls. Instead, those little irritants fester between us, and sometimes erupt to infect every aspect of a relationship. Such is the human condition, right?
I went downstairs last night to get myself a cup of tea. I didn't even make it to the second floor landing before Robbie heard me and came running. "Gotta talk to you," he urged, and the next thing I knew I was in the bathroom listening to him soberly tell me a very interesting little story - interesting, that is, in the sense that it certainly held my attention. It was bad news for us in several senses, a business matter, nothing of course that I can discuss.
"Robbie," I finally said, interrupting his increasingly nervous recitation. "Think. Every time you asked me why do it this way or that way, and when I would explain you would tell me that I am paranoid. Looking back now...?"
He raised his eyebrows, bobbed his head back and forth and shrugged: so you were right. "So what are you gonna do?"
"I'm gonna take care of this, and then none of you are ever gonna question my ways again, got me?" I will admit that I was a little short with him. Robbie has been moody and snappish lately; he is arguing with Katherine, and the last thing I want is to be involved even to the extent of offering a shoulder to cry upon. I just wish he'd snap the fuck out of it.
I got my tea and went back upstairs. HB and I had moved on from Kung Fu Panda to a nonstop Sopranos marathon. HB was wearing only his shorts, pacing around trying to put an outfit together.
"For Jack's party tomorrow night?" I asked him. Jack is having a birthday party for David's former lover and we are invited. I don't want to go, but for some reason HB (who never wants to go to Jack's) insisted.
He nodded and regarded his new Abercrombie shirt narrowly. "Whaddaya think about this?"
I privately think that HB's developing Big Woods accent is possibly the most adorable thing ever. "I think you could wear an old T-shirt with big bleach holes and a pair of ratty skater shorts and still be the hottest thing there," I replied calmly. "Why are you stressing about this? I can't think of anything less important than this party."
He frowned. "What's with you?"
I relayed as much of Robbie's story as was safe for him to know. His frown deepened, and finally he tossed the shirt angrily down on the bed.
"That mean you're gonna take Brad to the party?" he demanded when I was through.
I rolled my eyes. "Again with the party? That's what strikes you as the important part?"
"You're never gonna listen to me about any of the rest of it," he said bitterly. "And I don't want you to take Brad. He'll hate it and be miserable, he'll make everybody else there nervous as hell and you'll want to leave early and then nobody will have a good time." He glared at the crumpled shirt on the bed. "Maybe we shouldn't go after all."
"Oy Gevalt." I slapped my forehead and dropped into my easy chair. I came extremely close to comparing his behavior to D's - that's certainly who he reminded me of right then - but believe it or not I have learned a thing or two. I kept my mouth shut until I was sure I could control it instead.
"Take Nick," he said impulsively.
"Are you serious?!" I just stared at him. "I can't think of a worse idea for any of us, Nick especially. Plus he'd be no damned use. I might as well go with nobody at all." I've seen the covert looks and seen my kids whispering together. You can't hide anything in the Big Woods, you can't hide anything from your family and no two people I know in the history of time have ever been able to hide the fact that they're fucking. Taking Nick to that party would be like tattooing one of us on his forehead in lavender ink.
"Great," HB said, relieved, as if this was decided instead of sarcasm. "You can go strapped, right? No big deal."
I looked at him, but right about then that whole train of thought occurred to me, about how irritants between lovers rarely become pearls. So I just nodded, and resolved to deal with what I'd do and who I'd take when it was time to go.
He watched me cautiously for a minute, and then said, "So, do you know what you're gonna wear?"
I exhaled very slowly - not a sigh, just letting go - and said, "I thought I'd just wear my black shorts and that black hoody I like..."

Title lyric from "Tender Is The Night" by Jackson Browne.