I dub today long distance friday.
Just as I'm settling comfortably into feeling sorry for myself and contemplating having something really horrible for dinner the phone rings with that telltale triple you should probably answer this one, ring.
Please don't be my mom, I so don't have the strength for that right now...
"Hello?"
sniffle"Monstre?"
Cristal. In tears. PMSing. Talking the bad sort of nonsense, looking for peace, the kind you don't wake up from.
We talked, we're still on the phone actually, it's been going on three hours.
She stopped sobbing about an hour ago, then it was a good twenty minutes of the sort of hysterical laughter that turns to hiccups, to threats of puke, then to a momentary calm.
Then we talked of nothing, of little things, of the farmer's market in Paris tomorrow, and now we're talking of paperwork, of the stuff she has left to resolve before she moves out here.
"I need to get out of this place, monstre."
"I need to find something different. I need to find myself."
"And I needed to talk to you."
She told me the story of walking home at two in the morning and stumbling across a homeless man sleeping in the courtyard of her building.
She told me of drunkenly preparing a package for him, her only unopened box of crackers, a tomato, a beer, two t-shirts.
She told me of trying to give it to him, only to have him get up, roll up his blanket, and take off muttering.
She told me how much that shook her. I tried to tell her why he wouldn't look her in the eyes.
She told me she felt selfish for trying to impose something on him just to make herself feel like she'd done something.
I told her it was still a far better selfishness than the sort that drives some of us out into the street in the first place.
We talked about the zombie effect, about walking through our lives wondering what happened to our dreams.
We talked of silly nonsese things, of the sort of melodrama that makes you wonder if we've permanently stapled our hands to our foreheads.
She told me how sometimes she needs to cry, I told her it's because she's always so busy being strong for everyone.
She apologized for crying to me.
I thanked her for making me feel less alone. I thanked her for making me feel needed. I thanked her for speaking to me of the deeper things, the harder ones. I thanked her for trusting me so deeply.
I thanked her for thinking of me, six thousand kilometres away, and out of an entire planet, making my phone ring.
What I needed a few hours ago was perspective.
I got that big time.
I'm feeling hugely better now.
Thank you, Erinye.
Three hour down time. Not bad for a monstre under duress. And definitely not bad for a young french lady contemplating leaving her country for her second time, alone, underpaid, scared, slightly tipsy, and badly shaken.