My heart has become a raw and open wound. I can't help but be reminded of a particular episode of Ren & Stimpy where Stimpy must go against the Village Idiot in a Battle of Witlessness. In said battle, the VI takes a cheese grater to his elbow and leaves a massive wound on his arm. As if that wasn't bad enough, a bottle of lemon juice and a shaker of salt were produced and generously poured into the open wound.
My heart feels like that after Sunday. After today.
My professor handed back our essays tonight, a week earlier than I anticipated...and I wasn't ready to have it right in front of my face just yet. I find it kind of interesting that the thing that is hurting me most right now got me a 4.0 on my essay.... here it is, for everyone to read.
One, two, three car doors slam, echoing through the parking structure.
�Piggyback! Piggyback ride!� I hear Robert yell. He jumps up and down excitedly behind me, arms stretching to grab onto my shoulders.
�Not right now, kid. We�re in a parking lot, you have to hold my hand,� his father tells him, holding his hand out for Robert to hold. The three of us walk to the stairwell and head down the stairs. Watching Robert take each stair one by one makes me wish we had stopped for the elevator. I attempt to race Robert down the stairs to speed things up. Exaggerating the last few stairs, I let him win. He turns around with a grin from ear to ear on his face, giggling hysterically, as if beating me down the stairs was his biggest accomplishment to date. I tousle his hair playfully, smiling back at him as I step around him to walk out the door and onto the street.
�Piggyback ride! Please?� Robert begs me, tugging on the back of my shirt. Giving in, because I hate saying no to the five-going-on-six-year-old, I bend down to let him climb up on my back. As he situates arms around my neck and his legs around my hips, his father whispers in his ear, and mine too, given the close proximity of our heads, telling Robert to pretend I am a horse.
�Giddy up, horsey!� Robert yells. He kicks his feet into my sides before I even have time to protest. I turn my head and glare at Tom, thanking him in my own way for telling Robert to do that. Robert kicks again and I�m off running down the sidewalk, bouncing Robert on my back like a horse might trotting along on a trail. I stop at the corner to let Tom catch up to us. Robert and I taunt him with silly faces hoping he�ll walk faster, but it only makes him go slower.
Standing on the corner waiting for Tom, I notice the nervous feeling developing in my stomach. I�m nervous and excited at all once, not to mention out of breath after carrying the dead weight of a small boy on my back. I glance across the street and notice the store, the reason we are here, is closer than I thought. I turn back around, hoping Robert doesn�t notice the giant robot standing in the display window, and to see how much longer we have to wait for Tom. The nervous anticipation growing inside of me makes me realize just how heavy Robert is becoming and I carefully set him down on the ground. Tom grabs Robert�s hand. Robert looks up at me and grabs my hand as we step off the curb. We make our way across the street.
The three of us stop just outside the door to see if Robert can guess what kind of store we are going to. Struggling to pronounce the name of the store, Robert produces strange w-sounds. I read it to him. �Its called Wizzywigs. Cool name, huh?�
�What is it?� he asks.
�It�s a surprise,� I tell him. �You�re going to love it!�
Tom pushes the door open, letting Robert run in ahead of us. The nervous anticipation I felt out on the street corner intensifies, as I worry whether or not Tom and Robert are going to like the comic book and anime store I found. I attempt to show the two of them around the store, hurriedly pointing out exactly where I found the book I picked up for Robert the last time I visited Wizzywigs, and explaining to them all the different kinds of Japanese candy you could buy. When I realized the two of them were only partially paying attention to my exciting tour of the store, the nervous anticipation left and made room for slight disappointment to set in. Not saying a word, I followed them around the store like a shadow, secretly hoping they loved the store and would approve of me wanting to show it to them.
* * *
To cure Robert�s craving for pizza, we stop and ask for directions to the nearest pizza place. As we walk into the restaurant, rather than being greeted by the smell of greasy pizza, a hostess approaches us to take us to a table. I was expecting a small restaurant comprised of a few tables and chairs scattered across the main dining area with a large glass counter housing five or six pizzas perfectly sliced for single servings. Instead, we follow the hostess through one main dining room into another towards a row of booths along the side wall. A few people are scattered amongst the booths on the opposite wall. As the three of us parade through the restaurant, I wonder what these people must think of us. How many of these people think Robert belongs to me? How many of them think I�m just babysitting him? I wonder to myself.
The hostess sets down our menus and walks off. I hesitate before climbing into the booth, waiting for Robert or Tom to make the first move to decide where I should sit. Robert climbs in on one side, Tom on the other. Still not knowing where to sit, whether its ok to sit next to Tom in front of Robert, I stand at the edge of the table until Tom motions for me to join him.
As we wait for our pizza, Robert wiggles in his seat, unable to sit still. Tom tells him to sit still and stay in his seat just as Robert ducks under the table and begins grabbing our feet. He pokes his fingers through the straps on my sandals, hoping to touch the bottom of my extremely ticklish feet. He knows this will send me into a giggling fit and that�s why he�s doing it. When the pizza arrives, the waitress laughs when she notices where the little boy is hiding. Tom nudges him with his foot, indicating that he should sit back up in his seat, or else. The three of us lunge at the hot pizza, realizing just how long its been since the last time any of us had eaten. Barely giving it time to cool, we devour the pizza, burning our tongues in the process.
The last piece of pizza gone, Robert again dives under the table. This time, he decides to ignore our feet and come out on the other side. Wedging himself firmly between Tom and I on the bench, we have to shift to make room for him. Robert leans over to give his father a sloppy kiss on his cheek and rests his head on his shoulder. Seeing this makes me smile, knowing how happy it makes Tom to know his son loves him. I poke Robert in the side making him jump in his seat and turn around giggling to look at me. I tousle his hair, pretending not to be brushing it out of his eyes. As I clear the hair away, I suppress a strong urge to kiss the little boy on his forehead and give him a big bear hug, and instead pat him on the top of his head. Looking away from Robert and Tom, I feel slightly embarrassed that I would even think of wanting to do that for a little boy that didn�t belong to me.
* * *
And so these things go. Every time I see the brown-haired little boy, I can look at him a little longer without noticing how much his big bugged-out brown eyes look just like his mothers. Every giggle and squeal I hear come out of his mouth I learn to appreciate Robert a little bit more. And every request for a piggyback ride I get from him makes me love him that much more.
But, there is a problem.
A huge problem.
Those closest to Robert and his father see me as a threat. Family members feel I am only causing problems for Robert, and any relationship I form with him will only hurt him in the end. Because of this general attitude towards me, I am not allowed to spend time with the wonderful six-year-old boy I so desperately wish to befriend.
But, I find ways around that to see him anyways.
Of course, each time the three of us spend time together, and the family finds out, arguments ensue, harsh words are said, hearts are broken. Yes, my heart breaks every time I have to go through this just to spend time with the two people I wish to hold closest to me. I�ve never known such personal pain until now, until my relationship with Tom.
Sometimes I have to ask myself, is all of this worth it? As horrible as it sounds, as terrible as it makes me feel to ask, I can�t help myself to wonder whether or not all the heartache is worth it. I lose sight of what I want and why I put myself through all of this, and start wondering if all my fighting is in vain. Unfortunately, I forget all too easily the things that make me happiest: Tom, Robert, and afternoons together similar to the trip to the comic book store. I forget that if I can make it through this rough period and just wait for the family to adjust to the situation, happiness will be inevitable.
Patience is a virtue I lacked up until now. And my relationship with Tom has been nothing short of a crash course in patience. I may falter off the path from time to time, to the point where giving up looks all too appealing.
But, I cannot lose hope.
Because with hope comes patience. And with patience comes happiness. In happiness, I will find a beautiful little boy waiting for me, begging me to give piggyback rides, help with homework, make goofy faces, and read all those books I�ve wanted to read to someone for years. In happiness, I will find smiles, hugs, laughter�
With patience and hope, I wait for that day to come.