Uncivilized
Page 83
Probably more wishful thinking on my part, but a wish is better than nothing and, right now, I have nothing to entice him to stay.
Chapter 25
Zach
My eyes roam over the classified ads with frustration, looking at the “Help Wanted” section and seeing job after job that I’m either unqualified for or that I’ve already applied to.
Nothing. Not a single call back for an interview.
I feel like such a lame-ass when I fill out the applications, really only able to provide my name, current address, and two references.
Moira and Randall. My lover and my godfather.
No education. No work experience.
No call backs.
The front door to my parents’ house… correction, my house… opens and I turn my body from my perch at the kitchen table to see Moira walk in like a ray of sunshine. She’s carrying two grocery bags in each hand and, when her eyes light upon mine, she smiles at me brilliantly.
“I got some gorgeous steaks for us to grill out tomorrow night. Randall said he’d join us for dinner. Oh, and more Cocoa Puffs for you, and I bought Lucky Charms for me.”
I want to laugh at her silly joy in grocery shopping because Moira seems to have been lit up from within this last week since we’ve moved into this house. She’s enjoying the role of homemaker, easily slipping into a new lifestyle with me. She cooks and keeps the house clean, has planted flowers in the front yard, and even repainted the kitchen and living room.
Hefting the grocery bags onto the counter, she chatters away about meeting a woman at the store that had twin baby boys. I don’t hear longing in her voice, but I do hear absolute happiness as she recounts how cute they were dressed alike, even with matching pacifiers stuck inside their tiny mouths.
And my mood turns even darker than it was a moment ago. As Moira seems to be happier with where we’ve settled, I’ve become increasingly frustrated and bitter. My life seems to be running just one day into the other, and I’m succumbing to boredom and restlessness.
Sure, Moira and I still go out almost every day to explore the area around us. We go shopping, see foreign films, take tours of galleries, and have picnics in the park. We read newspapers together and discuss the most interesting articles. We drive out into the country and take in the scenery, stopping at country diners to try southern home cooking. I’m busy every single day with Moira and yet, I find it all frivolous.
Except when I’m f**king Moira. That is the one thing that makes me happy, and there’s nothing pointless about that union. It gets so much better every single time I touch her… kiss her… stroke her soft skin, and she whispers sweet words of abandon to me. It’s what keeps me going… keeps me motivated to push forward and continue to try to find some unity with this new life I’m leading.
“So, any luck with the job search today?” Moira asks as she puts the steaks and some milk in the refrigerator.
Pushing the paper away, I sigh in irritation. “No. All the same stuff I’ve applied for already.”
Her voice is cheerful and encouraging. “No worries, baby. You’ll find something soon, I’m sure of it.”
“It’s kind of hard to get a f**king job when I don’t have any experience,” I snap at her, and then watch as her body jerks as if I’ve slapped her.
I sit poised… tensed… ready for her eyes to narrow and for her to spit words of anger back at me. Instead, she stares at me a moment, and then her eyes soften. She walks up to me and drapes herself across my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck and nuzzling her cheek against my shoulder. “I’m sorry. Please don’t get frustrated. It can take a while to find a job, even for people with a lot of experience. Besides… if it’s really important to you, you know Randall will hire you at Cannon’s.”
Bitterness that feels like hot ash wells up inside of me, and I push her off my lap. I stand up and throw my hands out to the side of my body. “Of course finding a job is really important to me. Don’t you get my frustration over this? And just drop the f**king Randall thing. Taking a job from him is like taking the f**king money he piles in my bank account. I can’t do it.”
Spinning from her, I walk back toward our room.
Yes, our room… formerly my parents’ room, but we took that one since it had the bigger bed. Moira fitted it with new sheets and a comforter done in browns and beiges… much more masculine she asserted. Reaching into the closet, I pull out the tuxedo that I’m going to have to put on for tonight’s dinner party that Randall is throwing in my honor.
Fuck, I don’t want to go to this thing. Large crowds are not my thing and I’m tired of the endless curiosity about me, and the probing questions of what it’s like to live like a heathen, and everyone being completely flummoxed that I would want to return there to live. I constantly have to justify my desires to everyone.
Everyone except Moira. She silently accepts my decision, even though I see the sadness in her eyes whenever I talk about returning.
“I’m sorry, Zach,” I hear softly from behind me as her arms slip around my waist. She presses her cheek to my back and holds me tight. “I know this is hard on you. What can I do to make it better?”
I briefly cover her hands with mine as they rest on my stomach, stroking my thumbs over her skin. She feels so good, plastered up against me. Warm, tight security. Comfort. I’ll miss f**king Moira when I leave, but damn… I’ll miss this as well. I’ve never had it in my life, and now that I’ve had a taste, I know this will be a terrible loss that I’ll have to live with when I go back.
Chapter 25
Zach
My eyes roam over the classified ads with frustration, looking at the “Help Wanted” section and seeing job after job that I’m either unqualified for or that I’ve already applied to.
Nothing. Not a single call back for an interview.
I feel like such a lame-ass when I fill out the applications, really only able to provide my name, current address, and two references.
Moira and Randall. My lover and my godfather.
No education. No work experience.
No call backs.
The front door to my parents’ house… correction, my house… opens and I turn my body from my perch at the kitchen table to see Moira walk in like a ray of sunshine. She’s carrying two grocery bags in each hand and, when her eyes light upon mine, she smiles at me brilliantly.
“I got some gorgeous steaks for us to grill out tomorrow night. Randall said he’d join us for dinner. Oh, and more Cocoa Puffs for you, and I bought Lucky Charms for me.”
I want to laugh at her silly joy in grocery shopping because Moira seems to have been lit up from within this last week since we’ve moved into this house. She’s enjoying the role of homemaker, easily slipping into a new lifestyle with me. She cooks and keeps the house clean, has planted flowers in the front yard, and even repainted the kitchen and living room.
Hefting the grocery bags onto the counter, she chatters away about meeting a woman at the store that had twin baby boys. I don’t hear longing in her voice, but I do hear absolute happiness as she recounts how cute they were dressed alike, even with matching pacifiers stuck inside their tiny mouths.
And my mood turns even darker than it was a moment ago. As Moira seems to be happier with where we’ve settled, I’ve become increasingly frustrated and bitter. My life seems to be running just one day into the other, and I’m succumbing to boredom and restlessness.
Sure, Moira and I still go out almost every day to explore the area around us. We go shopping, see foreign films, take tours of galleries, and have picnics in the park. We read newspapers together and discuss the most interesting articles. We drive out into the country and take in the scenery, stopping at country diners to try southern home cooking. I’m busy every single day with Moira and yet, I find it all frivolous.
Except when I’m f**king Moira. That is the one thing that makes me happy, and there’s nothing pointless about that union. It gets so much better every single time I touch her… kiss her… stroke her soft skin, and she whispers sweet words of abandon to me. It’s what keeps me going… keeps me motivated to push forward and continue to try to find some unity with this new life I’m leading.
“So, any luck with the job search today?” Moira asks as she puts the steaks and some milk in the refrigerator.
Pushing the paper away, I sigh in irritation. “No. All the same stuff I’ve applied for already.”
Her voice is cheerful and encouraging. “No worries, baby. You’ll find something soon, I’m sure of it.”
“It’s kind of hard to get a f**king job when I don’t have any experience,” I snap at her, and then watch as her body jerks as if I’ve slapped her.
I sit poised… tensed… ready for her eyes to narrow and for her to spit words of anger back at me. Instead, she stares at me a moment, and then her eyes soften. She walks up to me and drapes herself across my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck and nuzzling her cheek against my shoulder. “I’m sorry. Please don’t get frustrated. It can take a while to find a job, even for people with a lot of experience. Besides… if it’s really important to you, you know Randall will hire you at Cannon’s.”
Bitterness that feels like hot ash wells up inside of me, and I push her off my lap. I stand up and throw my hands out to the side of my body. “Of course finding a job is really important to me. Don’t you get my frustration over this? And just drop the f**king Randall thing. Taking a job from him is like taking the f**king money he piles in my bank account. I can’t do it.”
Spinning from her, I walk back toward our room.
Yes, our room… formerly my parents’ room, but we took that one since it had the bigger bed. Moira fitted it with new sheets and a comforter done in browns and beiges… much more masculine she asserted. Reaching into the closet, I pull out the tuxedo that I’m going to have to put on for tonight’s dinner party that Randall is throwing in my honor.
Fuck, I don’t want to go to this thing. Large crowds are not my thing and I’m tired of the endless curiosity about me, and the probing questions of what it’s like to live like a heathen, and everyone being completely flummoxed that I would want to return there to live. I constantly have to justify my desires to everyone.
Everyone except Moira. She silently accepts my decision, even though I see the sadness in her eyes whenever I talk about returning.
“I’m sorry, Zach,” I hear softly from behind me as her arms slip around my waist. She presses her cheek to my back and holds me tight. “I know this is hard on you. What can I do to make it better?”
I briefly cover her hands with mine as they rest on my stomach, stroking my thumbs over her skin. She feels so good, plastered up against me. Warm, tight security. Comfort. I’ll miss f**king Moira when I leave, but damn… I’ll miss this as well. I’ve never had it in my life, and now that I’ve had a taste, I know this will be a terrible loss that I’ll have to live with when I go back.
