May(d/ D)ay

I read something recently and I just plain haven’t been right since. Its nothing new, my little right on cue timing- nothing new there. Nothing new in some kind of a cosmic comm link which only runs one way.


Henderson. “Henderson Cottage” and all the while I’m on Henderson as well- in a different way but there I am with Henry Mayo. These coincidences have always shaken me up where Henry’s concerned, where John Henry’s concerned its been twenty years of this, of this same thing. Over and over. Secrets I’ll probably never tell. Who would believe them anyway.

And of course those aren’t coincidences, I put those in an entirely different category because that way I can manage them, that way I can deal with that fact that I‘ve missed him for twenty years- maybe longe, who's to say.

I have to- well I don’t have to but I owe an old beau an apology . And what bothers me is I’m apologizing for something that used to be, that once was so unlike me. I couldn’t at the time figure out how we went from trading messages to full stop but then I remembered; Randy’s dad died, died back before Hurricane Floyd and we had talked about it at length.

Okay amnesia but, I just I feel badly about it. I was never that kind of person- I mean I remembered so fantastically well. The juxtaposition of these two boys I dated then, men now, makes me hyper aware of how just unfair it all is. Who and what I remembered and who I just plain forgot, and I forgot everyone, everything and I think of Randy reading that “your Dad must have really hated leaving the lake”.

A cap just flew off a spice jar- so who knows maybe Ron is still there.

But I forgot and in that I suppose I know a bit of what it is, has been to be the one I remembered because he forgets.

Randy’s been on my mind a lot probably because I saved a note and recently found it. The intense left lean of his script but what I remembered first was of course about the one the I didn’t forget and its not been for lack of trying. But what I remembered first, Randy had called right after Floyd during his separation, started calling a lot. He got married really young and the truth of the matter was I broke his heart, he broke mine too just in a different way.

It was 1999 and I was in my, largely left behind first stage of getting all the things left unsaid, said - in case the survivalists were right. I’d just finished Writing Poetry I and - well I wrote about him, the one I didn’t forget. All I remember now is “With Linderberg’s air /the fair haired- “ then total blank but I’d talked to Randy about contacting John Henry, for some reason I felt a substantial pull to. Had for over a year- Randy was - how he always was “writing is for pussies- have some balls and call him” though he started discouraging that pretty vigorously.

That’s what I remembered first, which of course led to remembering other people and specifics. Randy really knew me or at the very least - nknew where I came from. We’d both seen where the other had come from because we were each still there at the time.

And we stuck up for each other, first time he met my parents- my father in particular that’s what happened. Same with me, we wouldn’t participate in watching the other being shat upon and in that sense it was probably one of the healthiest relationships I’ve ever had. But it also had its own forms of toxicity because his protection, his presence which completely recalibrated our household it was contingent on us being an us and after a point that was the only reason I was in it. Which he eventually coppd to knowing but because he “loved me”- well that’s the reason he gave but I don’t define love like that and he be became an extension of the time I was doing, from five up all I was doing was time.

I remember when we talked, started talking after Floyd he said “My brother, Kenny?, and I we’re still not close our relationship never recovered from you”. He blamed me for that. Blamed Dusty for him owning a house that he’d bought “because of Dusty”. I remember sitting there and really wanting to tell him- not to hurt him just to say: Dude what you told me, what led to the incident that marred your all’s relationship- you told me your brother would be fiinnne, fine, fine with us being at the house- that’s how I came to be there. Only when you jumped up freaked out that Kenny and his wife were home did I get the first clue that you’d lied to me. Turned out Kenny and his wife- not at all the types to be fine with us being in a bedroom alone together. That’s when you told me- they were serious Bible beaters. And Kenny never forgave Randy for that, the relationship they had had ended and in Randy’s world - I’m sure to this day- that’s my fault. It’s not because he lied (of course it is and was) or anything that could have been responsible for that little scene.

Blew my mind- but it’s not like that’s hard.



Randy, he’s the one I’ve remembered my family through- what actually went on there, what normal was for my last two and half years of high school.

I don’t know why but - well it’s not even that it’s been on my mind, files open and there’s the video. I remembered the Sears counter first but for some reason last night I got me, walking into the mall on my way to work and spying the outfit I’d save up for- anyway.

It must have been my junior year? Right before senior year- spring or summer, school was out and I had a problem which meant I called Randy. There was no one else to call- it was how we met actually- there was no one at home for me to call- and if I did it would cost me.

There’d been something with the Corolla and I took it straight to Sears before I went to work, something with the breaks. The lead mechanic said there was no way I could drive it - it had be fixed- was dangerous, etc,etc..And I knew my parents wouldn’t accept that.

So Randy and I stood there at the counter, him picking me up because it was never worth calling my parents. The Sears guy calls either KFC or home and explains the situation not expecting to have to debate anything, but a debate ensued none the less and the mechanic started looking uncomfortable.

“The car is dangerous for her to be in,” he’d covered this before but he now delivered what he thought was the debate ender “You’re not understanding me she could die-”













Now the mechanic looked really uncomfortable and I knew what was being said, had been said, I wasn’t surprised- it only ever surprised me when he’d, that he really didn’t know that to other people the degree in which he hated his kid was - well odd.

“Okay - Someone else could die, she could be in an accident and cause multiple injuries and fatalities-”





…No I’m talking about her getting hurt I’m talking about someone else- the car has been in my shop and I will not allow her drive it - do you understand me!?.. You want to drive it- tow it- whatever but she is not leaving in that car I am NOT taking on the liability- you want to take on the liability come here and drive it home yourself”.

I remember feeling really ashamed because that was the truth, that’s who I was, I was the kid who nobody cared- well not my family at least if I lived or died.

Everyone but Kari grew to love Randy, she hated him, my Mom adored him, my father mostly hid from him - though eventually he started working on manipulating him. There was this sudden change, this warmth- the charm, the con and I knew, Martha’d fed him intel and there was only ever one thing he did with that.

“Did you tell Dad about Randy’s relationship with his father, about his father never coming to his football games?”













Yeah and twenty years with the man and she still acted like she didn’t know just where that was going, just how he’d utilize it. I warned Randy and granted it was near the end but he was lapping up the male approval which meant for me- I’m in greater state of jeopardy. Randy assured me he wasn’t getting played, but I knew he was though even I hadn’t seen what was coming, could never see as far forward with my father as I needed to.

I was called into the office one day by both the parental units, though they were more units than parental. What I was hearing was that Kari had had a boy over when no one was home, Randy had busted her to my parents. Kari had been grounded and I sat there wondering how this was going to come back on me. Kari’d been the soul of discretion where Nick was concerned, I figured she might have thrown that out there and my parents wouldn’t think twice about a month’s grounding for something that had happened two years ago. Heck one my first groundings had been because someone’s parent had been late driving me home- Mr. Bruns had me home fifteen minutes late - so I was grounded. Had made perfect sense to my parents- of course everyone thought it was nuts “Yeah but why would you be grounded because someone- because a parent was driving”. If it involved me- it was my fault, that was the law of the land.

So Kari had a boy over and Randy had told probably Mom about it and she’d of course deferred to the head lunatic so I was sitting in the office waiting to hear how this was really my fault. Nick was the only thing that had come to mind, couldn’t figure how they were gone to turn this around on me. Fact was once Randy came into the picture my groundings lessened because even though I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere but school - Randy could still drive over, would, show up unannounced even and Mom was always glad to see him.

“We’ve decided to tell Kari that you told us,” I was genuinely surprised and didn’t react so my mother took over the dialogue “See we don’t want Kari to be angry with Randy”. I just nodded my head and I guess that was unsatisfying- I didn’t fight anymore, didn’t bother but then there was that glint in my father’s eye, that satisfied grin - he was coming to something he liked, it was in his head and now he got to say the line

“She already hates you,” he said with that Cheshire cat grin. started tearing up, pushed it back.

“Is that all?” I asked as mother looked confused and neither answered - they’d apparently been expecting a show.

“Is that all?- is there anything else or can I go now?”













Yeah I could go that was all they had, for the moment. But I’d seen what apparently they’d each been missing since the beginning; Kari had nothing but daggers in her eyes for Randy. She did hate him- see he’d done something unforgivable. Kept John in check, was nice to Martha and me but then there was the coups de gras. It wasn’t directed at her- well maybe it was but he did it for me just like when the first time I met his Dad I made it clear in no uncertain terms that I was not standing for him screaming at his son. To Randy’s Mom that was outrageous “Oh that even isn’t Ron yelling”.

“Except he is yelling and I am not listening to that all day- we are leaving”.

Within fifteen minutes of pulling into the lakehouse- we pulled out. The rule held- I was around: no yelling. Randy was around- none of the various forms of my father’s bullshit. He’d been given an easy enough directive: solid food- or liquid food - you touch anyone in this house again- nothing but soft food on a permanent basis pal. But that wasn’t what Randy’s note was about, Randy’s note was when he decided it was going to stop and he was going to stop it.

We of course did go back to the lake house and I’d gotten to wear the bathing suit I’d had on layaway since January or so, cruise season. We went to the lake, came back and the suit disappeared but my things were always disappearing. Of course -well there was crossing my name out of books and writing her own and which was replaced by us receiving the same gifts. Even if we were given the same, she would have to have both. Then of course the crawl attic had to be closed up because that had proved a good stash point for a little treasure trove of my things which had been collected and gathered because- well it’s what she did. Sharing or asking her, telling her that if she asked I’d let her wear whatever just please don’t go in my room and take things…because sometimes, a lot of the time they’d just disappear, never to be seen again and I kept a neat room. It had been a problem in terms of my job at the Limited we had things that we had to wear, and all too often what I needed to wear would just up and disappear, like it walked out of the house.

Randy didn’t date the letter, the one I found, the one I kept- who’d have thought it was for lest I forget.

Everyone at work knew about the stealing thing because I’d get unnerved sometimes when what I’d laid out or was planning on wearing disappeared and I’d have to throw something together. Came into work nearly- no definitely hysterical-I’d waited until I got out of the car to lose it. My father had driven me work because - well Mom had found a lump and it was all the stress I was putting on her “You have to make Kari stop stealing”. I remember feeling like my brain would explode, that happened a lot I’d hear something so nuts I couldn’t process it; see their daughter stealing from me that was because of me because I couldn’t make her stop. She wasn’t their job- she was my job, she wasn’t responsible for her behavior- I was responsible for her behavior- everything was my job, my fault.

Randy’s note- see he’d gotten tired of it “you work all the time and then you have nothing to show for it…I care about you”. Some months it was hundreds of dollars of stuff just gone- a gift that was really dear- gone. It was my normal - had been since I was seven or so. Didn’t matter where I hid things- I couldn’t get her to stop and by the time high school came around-no one ever actually figured it out, that her friends had become the stash points, like the attic crawl space had been.

It was only when I bemoaned the “lost” suit in computer lab to Gretchen Gracy- because that’s how I always framed it- or had been told to frame it- if I couldn’t prove she stole it - I lost it, whatever it was. Nice little mind fuck my parents came up with.

But finally one day Randy had had enough, walked in the house and up the stairs towards the bedrooms- a move that made nearly both my parents blabbering and indignant. “How dare you,” they actually said that “you know boys aren’t allowed on the stairs”. With toolbox in hand he knelt down in front of my door, Kari opened hers watching this full out scene. Randy was replacing my doorknob, period and I’d have a key so I could lock my room.

“She works all the time and then she has nothing to show for it,” kari was there, red faced and furious “You won’t make her stop - so I will”. She slammed her door, she loved slamming doors, cupboards

Funny, never had anything stolen out of dryer in college- no only at home. Never had a roommate take money out of my wallet- only at home. I stopped going home because I just plain could not afford it- well that and Kari was furious when I did. See in her world I wasn’t supposed to exist and everything that was mine was really supposed to be hers.

When I was getting ready to go to college Kari told my mom that she wanted her picture or at least that’s how she framed a Renoir print that had been headed for the basement and I’d asked if I could put it in my room about six years earlier. That actually seemed to freak Mom out- Kari apparently had quite a fit- Martha couldn’t understand how Kari would and really believed that a painting that had never hung in her room, only mine and before that the living room, how she could perceive it as hers.

Technically- it made no sense but to Kari it did, to this day it still would.

I remember a guy a I dated and fell for hard asking me once “where do you see your relationship with your father going?” I was stunned then, just floored by the context- relationship? Going? And I sat there knowing - no way this guy can even develop a working concept of my father and what, who exactly that was. -Now my father- well he thought when he got a divorce he’d finally get to date his daughters. Didn’t work out that way. I remember sitting there as he started trying to run a con on me, as if he could, as if I hadn’t been paying very close attention for a very long time.

May(d/ D)ay can mean a lot of things. One is just plain: help. Another well in Kentucky it’s more the first Saturday in May and in New jersey it was May Day, like the may pole. Mom and Kari and I would make little four compartment baskets out of construction paper, fill the compartments with candy and flowers. Leaving just at sunrise we’d drive to houses of friends and leave a Mayday basket on their front door handle. No card, when she first started what became a tradition that began and ended in Jersey Mom would answer people’s questions as to who it might be from?

“Someone who knows about May(d/ Day)”