Monday, February 28, 2005
Jess rushed around her small apartment trying to throw stuff into a ragged duffel bag on her bed. She grabbed a flesh colored thong, a black leotard, and tan high heeled tap shoes and shoved them in the bag. She stopped in front of the mirror and sloppily put some mascara on her eyes while gathering the rest of her makeup into a bag with her other hand. She finally had a gig tonight. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. She stopped in her tracks and stared at it. The person on the other side continued to bang. A low, gravely voice called, "Jessica, there's no where to hide. You know we're just going to track you down anyway. Its time to pay up. You and Steve are long overdue."
Finally, she tentatively walked to the door and opened it an inch with the chain still attached. "Steve's not here anymore. He left," she said.
"Ah so he skipped town huh? Not surprised, I knew that kid had no thread of decency. Well too bad you're still here, and I still need my money. So I guess you'll have to pay his debts too," the guy said.
"What?!? That's impossible, I don't have that cash, you know that" she protested. Suddenly the guy reached forward and slammed his bulky frame into the door breaking the chain. Jess went flying back with the force of impact into the wall. He lunged after her and cracked his fist across her face so hard she went slumping down the wall. He loomed over her menacingly as she lay cowering on the floor.
"Too bad, find it. I've waited long enough, I need to get paid. You have till Wednesday and I better have that cash in my hand, or those pretty legs of you will never dance a gig again.
"Wednesday? That's only two days...there's just no way," she sobbed. He kicked her hard in the ribs and reached down and pulled her head up by her long, blonde hair so his face was right in hers.
"Wednesday, or else," he growled. He dropped his hold of her hair and she went crashing back down to the floor where she slumped down and cried. He turned and fixed his pin striped suit collar and casually smoothed down his dark hair in her mirror before strutting to the door and closing it behind him as if nothing had just happened.
She lay there sobbing curled up in a fetal position. Finally she crawled over to her dressing table and pulled herself up to her knees to look in the mirror. Her face was already swelling up and her side was throbbing horribly. She knew there was no point in even showing up to her gig that evening. They would never let her on stage with her face looking this way and she was in no condition to dance anyway since she suspected that she had a broken rib. She reached up and lightly touched her bruised eye and winced with the pain, oo yea RJ certainly had done a number on her. He definitely meant business this time.
She reached to the back of the dressing table and pulled out a cherry wood music box. She opened it and pulled out a small, cracked, smoky mirror and a bag of white powder. She lightly tapped the bag and poured out two lines. Then she reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a crumpled bill. After leaning over and snorting the two lines, she slowly felt the pain disappear. Suddenly, she no longer felt the throbbing in her side. She slowly stood up and walked over to her desk where she sat down and pulled out a white sheet of paper and a pen. She sat there for a second trying to find the right words in her muddled brain, then finally she put the pen to the paper and began to write,
Dear Kate,
Well it definitely has been awhile. I don't really know how to say this, I'm so sorry that our lives have gone in such different directions. I do want you to know that you have always been one of my best friends and one of the few people that understand me. However, I know you're not going to understand what I'm going to say right now. I'm killing myself tonight...
Finally, she tentatively walked to the door and opened it an inch with the chain still attached. "Steve's not here anymore. He left," she said.
"Ah so he skipped town huh? Not surprised, I knew that kid had no thread of decency. Well too bad you're still here, and I still need my money. So I guess you'll have to pay his debts too," the guy said.
"What?!? That's impossible, I don't have that cash, you know that" she protested. Suddenly the guy reached forward and slammed his bulky frame into the door breaking the chain. Jess went flying back with the force of impact into the wall. He lunged after her and cracked his fist across her face so hard she went slumping down the wall. He loomed over her menacingly as she lay cowering on the floor.
"Too bad, find it. I've waited long enough, I need to get paid. You have till Wednesday and I better have that cash in my hand, or those pretty legs of you will never dance a gig again.
"Wednesday? That's only two days...there's just no way," she sobbed. He kicked her hard in the ribs and reached down and pulled her head up by her long, blonde hair so his face was right in hers.
"Wednesday, or else," he growled. He dropped his hold of her hair and she went crashing back down to the floor where she slumped down and cried. He turned and fixed his pin striped suit collar and casually smoothed down his dark hair in her mirror before strutting to the door and closing it behind him as if nothing had just happened.
She lay there sobbing curled up in a fetal position. Finally she crawled over to her dressing table and pulled herself up to her knees to look in the mirror. Her face was already swelling up and her side was throbbing horribly. She knew there was no point in even showing up to her gig that evening. They would never let her on stage with her face looking this way and she was in no condition to dance anyway since she suspected that she had a broken rib. She reached up and lightly touched her bruised eye and winced with the pain, oo yea RJ certainly had done a number on her. He definitely meant business this time.
She reached to the back of the dressing table and pulled out a cherry wood music box. She opened it and pulled out a small, cracked, smoky mirror and a bag of white powder. She lightly tapped the bag and poured out two lines. Then she reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a crumpled bill. After leaning over and snorting the two lines, she slowly felt the pain disappear. Suddenly, she no longer felt the throbbing in her side. She slowly stood up and walked over to her desk where she sat down and pulled out a white sheet of paper and a pen. She sat there for a second trying to find the right words in her muddled brain, then finally she put the pen to the paper and began to write,
Dear Kate,
Well it definitely has been awhile. I don't really know how to say this, I'm so sorry that our lives have gone in such different directions. I do want you to know that you have always been one of my best friends and one of the few people that understand me. However, I know you're not going to understand what I'm going to say right now. I'm killing myself tonight...
Monday, February 21, 2005
Writing prompt p 84
I looked at the telephone receiver still warm in my hand. I sat there in shock as the dial tone began to echo loudly from the receiver. Finally, I slowly began to lower the receiver back to the base. It was over? How could she be so cavalier and heartless about it? How could it mean absolutely nothing to her? How could she move on so easily? Was everything that had happened in the past 4 years nothing to her? Were all my efforts and times I drove to her campus and nights I resisted girls throwing themselves at me at parties now equivalent to shit to her?
I walked across the room to my dresser and saw the pictures of her taped up to my mirror. There we were on graduation from high school, at my freshman fraternity formal, and then her sister’s wedding last year. We were supposed to be in the home stretch, we’d already done the hard part; college graduation was already next week. We’d made it through the 4 years of college together suffering the long distance and separate lives.
I shivered and realized I was still standing there in my boxers. I looked at the pile of clothes on my floor and picked up the first pair of jeans and t-shirt I saw. I glanced over to my closet in the corner where my suit for tonight was hanging. Then I looked at the night table next to my bed where the box was sitting. I walked over to it and picked it up. Inside was the engagement ring I was planning to give to her this evening.
I just didn’t understand her. She said she was confused, that she wasn’t sure this was what she wanted anymore; she didn’t know where her life was going. Well neither did I damn it! No one did. I just thought we could figure that out together. Girls are just so damn selfish. They say they want security and for us to be there for them to comfort them and be sensitive to their needs. All I ever did was try to be attentive to her and do what I thought she wanted. How many nights had I sacrificed my own fun and sat there and listened to her blubber on and on about her feelings while my friends were in the next room drinking beers and playing poker? And now she’s bored and says I’m too predictable?
I open the door to my room and see my friends look up from the couch where they’re sitting with their beers watching the game. I know they must have all heard me shouting at her, but they’re trying to pretend they didn’t. “Hey you want a beer man?” one of them asks. I shake my head no. I wander over to the fridge and open the door and try to ignore the thoughts that are floating through my mind. As usual the fridge is empty except for beer and a piece of moldy cheese in the back. I slam the door and look around and see the pile of dishes in the sink, the card table still stacked with cups and beer cans from the party my suitemates had had the night before. I knew then what I needed to do. I sprinted back to my room and slapped on a hat and grabbed my car keys and the ring. I wasn’t going down without a fight.
I looked at the telephone receiver still warm in my hand. I sat there in shock as the dial tone began to echo loudly from the receiver. Finally, I slowly began to lower the receiver back to the base. It was over? How could she be so cavalier and heartless about it? How could it mean absolutely nothing to her? How could she move on so easily? Was everything that had happened in the past 4 years nothing to her? Were all my efforts and times I drove to her campus and nights I resisted girls throwing themselves at me at parties now equivalent to shit to her?
I walked across the room to my dresser and saw the pictures of her taped up to my mirror. There we were on graduation from high school, at my freshman fraternity formal, and then her sister’s wedding last year. We were supposed to be in the home stretch, we’d already done the hard part; college graduation was already next week. We’d made it through the 4 years of college together suffering the long distance and separate lives.
I shivered and realized I was still standing there in my boxers. I looked at the pile of clothes on my floor and picked up the first pair of jeans and t-shirt I saw. I glanced over to my closet in the corner where my suit for tonight was hanging. Then I looked at the night table next to my bed where the box was sitting. I walked over to it and picked it up. Inside was the engagement ring I was planning to give to her this evening.
I just didn’t understand her. She said she was confused, that she wasn’t sure this was what she wanted anymore; she didn’t know where her life was going. Well neither did I damn it! No one did. I just thought we could figure that out together. Girls are just so damn selfish. They say they want security and for us to be there for them to comfort them and be sensitive to their needs. All I ever did was try to be attentive to her and do what I thought she wanted. How many nights had I sacrificed my own fun and sat there and listened to her blubber on and on about her feelings while my friends were in the next room drinking beers and playing poker? And now she’s bored and says I’m too predictable?
I open the door to my room and see my friends look up from the couch where they’re sitting with their beers watching the game. I know they must have all heard me shouting at her, but they’re trying to pretend they didn’t. “Hey you want a beer man?” one of them asks. I shake my head no. I wander over to the fridge and open the door and try to ignore the thoughts that are floating through my mind. As usual the fridge is empty except for beer and a piece of moldy cheese in the back. I slam the door and look around and see the pile of dishes in the sink, the card table still stacked with cups and beer cans from the party my suitemates had had the night before. I knew then what I needed to do. I sprinted back to my room and slapped on a hat and grabbed my car keys and the ring. I wasn’t going down without a fight.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Writing prompt page 39
“Now stay here and watch your sister. I’m just going to go back in and see what’s taking your mother so long,” Greg said. He turned and signaled to the cab driver to stay there. Then he looked both ways and crossed the street back into the bus station. Why did Arline always have to take so long, he wondered to himself. Everyone was sitting in the two cabs waiting for her to go to the snorkel park. He stepped into the hot, sweaty bus station and looked over the sea of people for his wife. He tried to find the ladies room but all he saw was the sign that pointed to Hombres. Where was Mujers?
“Now stay here and watch your sister. I’m just going to go back in and see what’s taking your mother so long,” Greg said. He turned and signaled to the cab driver to stay there. Then he looked both ways and crossed the street back into the bus station. Why did Arline always have to take so long, he wondered to himself. Everyone was sitting in the two cabs waiting for her to go to the snorkel park. He stepped into the hot, sweaty bus station and looked over the sea of people for his wife. He tried to find the ladies room but all he saw was the sign that pointed to Hombres. Where was Mujers?
Meanwhile, the two girls, Julie and Leigh, sat in the stifling cab. A hot wind blew in through the window hitting the strawberry shaped air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. The wind circulated the already powerful mixture of sweet strawberry and sweat hanging on the air. The driver was listening to an upbeat Spanish station with high pitched male voices singing rapidly and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Leigh leaned over and whispered to her sister in a loud voice, “It smells in here.” “Shh,” Julie reproached her, “What do you expect, it’s almost 100 degrees out and we’re in a small cab in Mexico. You’re lucky our driver doesn’t speak any English. Mind your manners.”
The Wright family was in the cab ahead of the two girls. “I wonder what’s taking so long.” Monique said. Her husband, Mark chuckled and responded, “Like this surprises you, Arline has been doing this since high school. There’s always something that holds her up. She’s probably found somewhere to shop.” “Mom, I’m hungry,” Meghan piped in from the back seat. She nudged her sister Aimee in the ribs, “Yeah me too. Why can’t Julie and Leigh just come with us?” Aimee said. “Because there’s no room in the cab. We already have four of us in here,” Monique responded as she rummaged through her purse for something to give the girls to eat. “Why don’t we just go ahead to the snorkel park? I’m sure Arline can’t take much longer and then at least we can hold a table for everyone at the restaurant for when they get there. I’m sure Julie and Leigh will be hungry too,” Mark said. “Alright,” Monique agreed. She opened her car door and ran over to the two girls in the other cab. She leaned into their open window and told them to tell their parents that they were heading over but to meet them at the restaurant at the front gate. Then she ran back to her own cab and their cab began to pull out of the parking lot on their way.
Julie and Leigh started getting fidgety in the backseat. The Wrights were leaving; their own parents had disappeared and were taking forever to come back. How long would they have to sit in this hot cab without air conditioning? The sun was blaring through the glass windows onto them. Julie looked down at her left arm which was in direct contact with the glare coming through the window; it was changing to a pinkish shade. Great, she thought, that was going to really hurt tonight and she had no sun block to put on it. It was in her mother’s purse. She was trying to cover her left arm with her other hand when all of a sudden the cab driver started backing out of the spot and driving down the street. “Julie, where are we going? Mom and dad aren’t back yet,” Leigh said anxiously. “Uhm, I don’t know Leigh. Don’t worry he’s probably just moving to another parking space.” Julie responded to calm down her sister. But the cab driver continued driving. “No he’s not Julie, where are we going?” Leigh said, starting to get upset. Julie started looking back and forth around the cab. They were in traffic now going through the heart of town. There were three cabs ahead of them, but she couldn’t see who was in them. They were driving further and further away from the bus station where her parents were. “Alta, Alta,” she screamed, in what little Spanish she knew from her 7th grade classroom, “Mis padres at el estacion de autobus. No vamos!” The driver kept driving though. At this point Leigh started crying. Julie put her arms around her younger sister and tried to calm her down. “We’re never going to see mommy and daddy again,” Leigh cried.
Arline and Greg finally stepped out of the bus station to the busy street. Arline was still reapplying more lipstick as Greg rolled his eyes behind her. Who else put on lipstick to go the beach? She looked up from her compact mirror, “Where’s the cab?” she asked. “He was right here. He probably just moved down the row,” Greg responded. They began to look down the row of cabs. The girls weren’t in any of them. “Where’s the girls Greg? And where are Monique and Mark? They wouldn’t have left with the girls,” Arline cried. She ran around the entire area looking for the girls. She couldn’t see any traces of them. Greg ran back into the bus station hoping the girls had gotten tired of waiting for them and went in looking for them. He saw no sign of their little blonde heads. He returned to the street to see his wife standing in the middle of the street sobbing and screaming, “POLICIA MIS NINAS!!”
The Wrights were driving along in their cab looking at the palm trees passing by. Aimee and Meghan were arguing over who could stick their head out the window to get the passing breeze. Mark sat in the front and was trying to talk to the cab driver in English; however the cab driver was just smiling and nodding at Mark obviously not comprehending anything he was saying. Monique sighed and tried to ignore the scene around her. She turned and looked out her own window at the turquoise blue of the water below them as they passed over the bridge. For once she had a moment of complete and utter peace. Suddenly, the radio in the cab crackled to life with a man screaming out in rapid fire Spanish. The driver picked up his own hand set and began to respond in rapid Spanish. “What’s he saying,” Aimee asked her sister. Meghan sat and listened for a second at the exchange taking place between the radio and their driver. With her twelfth grade knowledge she tried to decipher fragments of the quick sentences going back and forth. “Something about two missing girls. The mother is frantic standing in the street by the bus station.” Meghan translated. “Oh god wouldn’t that be funny if that was Julie and Leigh?” Aimee said.
Leigh continued crying on Julie’s shoulder while she tried to get the cab driver’s attention. She leaned over the seat now and continued yelling Alta. Suddenly, their radio sprung to life with a man screaming in Spanish through the speakers. Their driver picked up his handset and responded and then began to laugh. He turned around in his seat and began to speak to Julie in rapid Spanish. All she could grasp from his quick dialect was madre and padre. “Si si mis padres, back there,” she said pointing behind her towards the bus station. The driver continued laughing and turned the cab around. Leigh’s sobs slowly began to subside as she realized they were returning to their parents. Finally, the cab pulled back into the parking lot by the bus station. The girls quickly tumbled out of the cab and into the arms of their mother, as their father stood behind her talking to a police officer. Their mother sobbed into their little blonde heads, “Oh my babies. I thought I’d lost you.” The police officer and the driver laughed behind the scene as the driver explained he’d been following the other cab the whole time to the snorkel park. The driver began apologizing to Greg who nodded to what he could understand and then moved the three girls back into the cab together to continue on with their day.
Arline and Greg finally stepped out of the bus station to the busy street. Arline was still reapplying more lipstick as Greg rolled his eyes behind her. Who else put on lipstick to go the beach? She looked up from her compact mirror, “Where’s the cab?” she asked. “He was right here. He probably just moved down the row,” Greg responded. They began to look down the row of cabs. The girls weren’t in any of them. “Where’s the girls Greg? And where are Monique and Mark? They wouldn’t have left with the girls,” Arline cried. She ran around the entire area looking for the girls. She couldn’t see any traces of them. Greg ran back into the bus station hoping the girls had gotten tired of waiting for them and went in looking for them. He saw no sign of their little blonde heads. He returned to the street to see his wife standing in the middle of the street sobbing and screaming, “POLICIA MIS NINAS!!”
The Wrights were driving along in their cab looking at the palm trees passing by. Aimee and Meghan were arguing over who could stick their head out the window to get the passing breeze. Mark sat in the front and was trying to talk to the cab driver in English; however the cab driver was just smiling and nodding at Mark obviously not comprehending anything he was saying. Monique sighed and tried to ignore the scene around her. She turned and looked out her own window at the turquoise blue of the water below them as they passed over the bridge. For once she had a moment of complete and utter peace. Suddenly, the radio in the cab crackled to life with a man screaming out in rapid fire Spanish. The driver picked up his own hand set and began to respond in rapid Spanish. “What’s he saying,” Aimee asked her sister. Meghan sat and listened for a second at the exchange taking place between the radio and their driver. With her twelfth grade knowledge she tried to decipher fragments of the quick sentences going back and forth. “Something about two missing girls. The mother is frantic standing in the street by the bus station.” Meghan translated. “Oh god wouldn’t that be funny if that was Julie and Leigh?” Aimee said.
Leigh continued crying on Julie’s shoulder while she tried to get the cab driver’s attention. She leaned over the seat now and continued yelling Alta. Suddenly, their radio sprung to life with a man screaming in Spanish through the speakers. Their driver picked up his handset and responded and then began to laugh. He turned around in his seat and began to speak to Julie in rapid Spanish. All she could grasp from his quick dialect was madre and padre. “Si si mis padres, back there,” she said pointing behind her towards the bus station. The driver continued laughing and turned the cab around. Leigh’s sobs slowly began to subside as she realized they were returning to their parents. Finally, the cab pulled back into the parking lot by the bus station. The girls quickly tumbled out of the cab and into the arms of their mother, as their father stood behind her talking to a police officer. Their mother sobbed into their little blonde heads, “Oh my babies. I thought I’d lost you.” The police officer and the driver laughed behind the scene as the driver explained he’d been following the other cab the whole time to the snorkel park. The driver began apologizing to Greg who nodded to what he could understand and then moved the three girls back into the cab together to continue on with their day.
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Writing prompt on page 24
The first time I heard the song “Wonderful Tonight” by Eric Clapton was my sophomore year of high school at a school dance. I remember that I was dancing with my boyfriend, Matt, at the time and as he was cradling me in his arms and my head lay on his shoulder I felt like I had never been so safe or secure as I felt at that moment. As we slowly danced around in a circle in the hot school gymnasium I listened to Eric Clapton sing about the way a man can love a woman and find beauty in the simple practices of watching her brush her hair and rely on her to get him home to bed after a couple of drinks. The song just epitomizes the significance of a man admitting that his wife is his equal partner and still means everything to him even after years of marriage.
At the time I don’t think I realized the true meaning of these words, I was still young and foolishly romantic and just thought that the song was a silly love ballad telling his wife how beautiful she was. Matt and I had just begun dating and while that song was playing at that dance, we kissed for the first time. I remember believing, in the naïve way most girls do in high school, that we were meant to be and we would last forever. He was the first boy that I ever said I love you to. Looking back I realize that I definitely never meant it and had no real clue about what love meant at that time. Unfortunately, that night on the dance floor was one of the last times that Matt and I were truly happy together.
That song became “our song” and it was played at every sweet sixteen or school dance we attended together. He held that song over my head and used it as his ‘get out of jail free card’ whenever we were in a fight or after he had done something wrong. He would fall back on the magical words that Eric Clapton used and begin to hum the song or repeat the words ‘Oh my darling you look wonderful tonight’ and I usually would melt and forgive him like I always did. Because again I believed, in that naïve way most teenage girls and abused victims do, that he never meant to hurt me. I believed that he loved me. He just had a really bad temper and couldn’t control it. I had it coming. I angered him. After awhile I finally figured out that I didn’t deserve his treatment and he was just a horrible person who tried to control me and use me to feel better about himself. I finally broke out of the abusive relationship and became a stronger person from the lessons I learned from it.
I hated that song for a long time. Every time it was on the radio or I heard it at a school dance, the tears would begin to roll down my face or I would shudder and think of his face twisted in anger and the horrible words he used to scream at me, or the bruises and welts he would cover my arms and back with as he threw me across a room. The song that had once made me so happy was now ruined for me.
Then 4 years later I walked into a bar and sat across a table from a new male coworker on a first date and Eric Clapton’s melodic voice came floating out of the jukebox with those enchanting words again. Seth and I heard the song at the same time and he said, “I love this song”. Despite the haunting years that the song had made tears spring to my eyes and shivers creep up my spine, I found myself for the first time in a long time able to once again focus on the words. With the new wisdom of age and maturity I finally was able to grasp the meaning behind them and feel hope creep up inside me. Matt had definitely not been the man that Eric Clapton was describing in the song, but there still is someone out there for me who will love me and look at me the way the man in the song looks at his wife. As I sat there in that bar on that hot summer night gripping my icy Coors Light in my hand and saw Seth smiling at me across the table I found myself answering, “Me too.”
The first time I heard the song “Wonderful Tonight” by Eric Clapton was my sophomore year of high school at a school dance. I remember that I was dancing with my boyfriend, Matt, at the time and as he was cradling me in his arms and my head lay on his shoulder I felt like I had never been so safe or secure as I felt at that moment. As we slowly danced around in a circle in the hot school gymnasium I listened to Eric Clapton sing about the way a man can love a woman and find beauty in the simple practices of watching her brush her hair and rely on her to get him home to bed after a couple of drinks. The song just epitomizes the significance of a man admitting that his wife is his equal partner and still means everything to him even after years of marriage.
At the time I don’t think I realized the true meaning of these words, I was still young and foolishly romantic and just thought that the song was a silly love ballad telling his wife how beautiful she was. Matt and I had just begun dating and while that song was playing at that dance, we kissed for the first time. I remember believing, in the naïve way most girls do in high school, that we were meant to be and we would last forever. He was the first boy that I ever said I love you to. Looking back I realize that I definitely never meant it and had no real clue about what love meant at that time. Unfortunately, that night on the dance floor was one of the last times that Matt and I were truly happy together.
That song became “our song” and it was played at every sweet sixteen or school dance we attended together. He held that song over my head and used it as his ‘get out of jail free card’ whenever we were in a fight or after he had done something wrong. He would fall back on the magical words that Eric Clapton used and begin to hum the song or repeat the words ‘Oh my darling you look wonderful tonight’ and I usually would melt and forgive him like I always did. Because again I believed, in that naïve way most teenage girls and abused victims do, that he never meant to hurt me. I believed that he loved me. He just had a really bad temper and couldn’t control it. I had it coming. I angered him. After awhile I finally figured out that I didn’t deserve his treatment and he was just a horrible person who tried to control me and use me to feel better about himself. I finally broke out of the abusive relationship and became a stronger person from the lessons I learned from it.
I hated that song for a long time. Every time it was on the radio or I heard it at a school dance, the tears would begin to roll down my face or I would shudder and think of his face twisted in anger and the horrible words he used to scream at me, or the bruises and welts he would cover my arms and back with as he threw me across a room. The song that had once made me so happy was now ruined for me.
Then 4 years later I walked into a bar and sat across a table from a new male coworker on a first date and Eric Clapton’s melodic voice came floating out of the jukebox with those enchanting words again. Seth and I heard the song at the same time and he said, “I love this song”. Despite the haunting years that the song had made tears spring to my eyes and shivers creep up my spine, I found myself for the first time in a long time able to once again focus on the words. With the new wisdom of age and maturity I finally was able to grasp the meaning behind them and feel hope creep up inside me. Matt had definitely not been the man that Eric Clapton was describing in the song, but there still is someone out there for me who will love me and look at me the way the man in the song looks at his wife. As I sat there in that bar on that hot summer night gripping my icy Coors Light in my hand and saw Seth smiling at me across the table I found myself answering, “Me too.”
