Thrown Out Leftover Chinese Food

I really love living off of other people’s missing moments.  I love being in DH’s house when she’s not there.  To water her plants. I look at all the food she throws away. Once I ate some.  Okay, many times.  If it smells fine, really, it’s such a waste.  She can do that, throw away food, she has that kind of money, a regular job.  Shit, its tenure, which means she doesn’t ever have to worry about being fired.

I worry about being fired all the time.

Not about not being good enough (okay, that was an early worry) not being “liked”, because I know a woman in an office has to be liked.  Not a bitch.  Not like those older bitches who look like kindergarten teachers ready to scold.  

Once I found a bunch of Valentines in the trash.  Messages from her students.  Heartfelt ones, from her “special needs kids”.  The ones she talks about so much.  She doesn’t really care. I suppose it’s something that she waits til she gets home to throw them out.  Not much, I suppose.

I’m just glad I’m not one of those kids who hopes to get some love out of her.

When I was eating her thrown-away Chinese food, I thought about HIm.

My brother.

My poor, lost Brother.

95% dead.  5% chance of him being alive somewhere.  Escaped.  Maybe jail.  Hopefully jail.  They at least have a vague reason to keep him alive, to keep him from hurting himself.  Of that 5%, maybe 1% would be him alive on his own.  Escaped on his own.  Run-away.

And all I have to go on is the tone of voice. When I asked what happened, and they sat me down.  

He’s gone to a better place.

Dead?

They looked at one another.

One started to say something and then the other cut in

“Yes.  Dead.”

“Where is he buried? I want to visit his grave!”

“There is no grave,”

“Ashes.  Only ashes”

“Where are they?  I want to see!”

Funny the impetus that we the living have.  Tangible proof of change of state.

Regardless, they had nothing to produce.

A few years later, as they lay dying, there was more.

Mc-Something

McLaine.

If he lived, I imagine he’s traveling all across the country.  All the time.  Following me.  Blazing a path for me. Exploring all the roads.  And when I drive, when I hit any new patch of highway, I imagine that he’s been there before me.  That at one intersection, somewhere, I’ll find his home. And he’s come out of nowhere to greet me. I just have to keep my eyes out for Him.

If he lived, I imagine he’d be poor.  Poor, but resourceful.  He was always a smart guy.  BUt terrible with people.  I was the only one who understood him.  And somehow he never wanted to talk to anyone else.

So he’s off on a highway somewhere.

And when I eat someone else’s thrown out Chinese food, I imagine he’d be smiling.