James and I with his painting above       I awaited James in the “Buzz Cafe”. It had been more than 25 years since I had seen him in person. To say he was a friend in High school would have been an exaggeration, probably. For the most part I saw him through the smoke at parties in the late 80’s where many teenage boys with long hair and “Iron Maiden” shirts converged to “get fucked up”. I was a young woman who would not leave the side of my dream-man Dave. I followed him everywhere. Even when his band practiced, I was sitting there. I should have been studying. When a party was happening, one person would always get on the phone, the 80’s phone, the one in which the receiver is a couple pounds and you need to use a rotary to dial 7 numbers. Someone would call a friend and say, “Dude you gotta get over here.” He would name the people and I was always just “Dave’s girlfriend”.   It used to bother me a little but I was nearly silent at all times, and when I attempted speech, I stammer...
The adventures of an anxiety prone middle aged woman and her significant other.