Thursday, August 16, 2012
Thelma and Louise
Thelma: Hey Louise, better slow down, I'll just die if we get caught over a speeding ticket. Are you sure we should be driving like this, I mean in broad daylight and everything?
Louise Sawyer: No we shouldn't, but I want to put some distance between us and the SCENE OF OUR LAST GOD DAMNED CRIME!
[Thelma laughs and screams]
Thelma: Oh man! You wouldn'ta believed it, it was like I was doing it all my life, nobody woulda believed it.
Louise Sawyer: Think you found your calling?
Thelma: May-be... may-be.
[gets up in her seat]
Thelma: The call of the wild!
Days of Sobriety: 338
I have been trying to talk myself out of writing this blog all evening and now it's time to go to bed and I could be curled up reading Fifty Shades Of Gray (to my commenter, grateful: Of course, I'm reading that book, and we'll compare book reports later), but this damn thing just won't be put to rest. Mainly because I'm worried about my best friend, Sherry, who just got evicted from her apartment.
I was out for a walk this evening and I passed a neat little older home, two story with a wrap around porch and a stained glass transom light over the front door, and I thought to myself, "If I won the lottery, I would buy that house for Sherry." And then, of course, I started making stipulations. The list kept growing. She couldn't move her dogs in, especially the one that poops on the floor every time it barks which is every 37 seconds. She couldn't move her kids in, especially the one that steals her money so she has to put it in her robe pocket and sleep in her robe every night. She couldn't resale the house for cash. She couldn't drink.
Well, there goes that deal out the window, we all know that last one's a deal breaker.
I think I've told you about my best friend. We're so alike in so many ways. We were both born in this same little dusty cow town. We grew up in middle class neighborhoods with parents that stayed married and older brothers and sisters. In high school we both existed on the fringe of the popular crowd, we weren't friends then but we knew of each other. Later on we both worked at the hospital but in different departments, then Sherry transferred to the OR and we found out we had one more thing in common, we both loved to drink, and our friendship was forged.
We lived in the same neighborhood, we both had three boys and unhappy marriages. By day we were dedicated scrub nurses, by night we were two boozy bosom buddies trying to escape our humdrum lives. Thick as thieves we were, lying and cheating and covering each others tracks no matter where they led.
But there were always differences. I won't go into them but I think if Sherry and I were Thelma and Louise, I would be Louise and Sherry would be Thelma. It was as if, like Thelma and Louise, we were both on the same road trip but there were different views out our windows. My side had pastoral meadows, gently rolling hills, babbling brooks and all kinds of bucolic shit while hers was all craggy cliffs, sharp drop offs and beware of falling rocks signs.
I don't know about you, but when that movie ended, I always liked to imagine that Louise jumped out of that car before it went flying over that cliff. At the last minute, she saw there was no way in hell they were going to make it, she looked over at Thelma and said, "Sorry babe, you're on your own.'' and then threw herself from the car, did a couple of somersaults and then stood up, dusted herself off and walked back to the Harvey Keitel character and rode off into the sunset in an RV.
As for Thelma, I always thought even if she jumped from the car and saved herself that time, she was going to end up back at the edge of that cliff over and over again, and someday she was going to wait too long to save herself.
And I know, that no matter how good the view was on my side of the road, that if I hadn't quit drinking 338 days ago someday I would have ended up at the bottom of that cliff with Thelma.
I'm glad I jumped out of that damn car.
As for my friend, Sherry? I need your help. I don't know how to keep her from plunging off that cliff.