More Whirlwinds, Part IV: The Exodus

(I apologize for taking so long to continue/finish this story -- the week back after break was killer. Now, let's move forward...)

On Sunday morning (the 18th), I woke up around 9AM or so. Lady, next to me in bed, was still sleeping like a rock. As I knew she would need as much sleep as possible, I kissed her temple and very gently climbed out of bed, slowly, because she's a light sleeper. Sunday was going to be a busy day for both of us; Lady would have to drive back to Virginia that afternoon, and after that, we were having a large party at my parents' house, involving a lot of friends and family.

The party was not my idea; in fact, I tried to get my mother to cancel it once we found out that we wouldn't be able to do it at the Lakehouse (a restaurant on the lake in town, which is owned by friends of the family) and instead would have to do it at the house. Because I know how much work this entails for my mother, and how much cooking and cleaning she would have to do to make the house presentable, I tried to get her to cancel it, but it was too late. The party would start at 4PM, and I told Andrea and my best friend from high school/undergrad, Brittany, to join us. I already knew Andrea was coming, which was good, but I hadn't talked to Brittany in about a week, so I had to confirm with her via text. Luckily she remembered the way to my parents' house, as she's been there numerous times before -- even if the last time was about eight years ago.

I let Lady sleep until around 11:30 or so, because, as mentioned before, I knew she'd need the rest -- she had a seven-hour drive back to Virginia ahead of her, a quick night of sleep to follow, and then a thirty-six-hour-long train ride back to the midwest to come back to school. In the meantime, I had my morning coffee and smokes outside on the porch, and languidly read a few comic books/spent time with my parents while she slept. When I returned to my room to awaken her so we could begin to get her stuff packed and ready for her to leave, I found her awake on my bed playing with her phone.

"Morning, love," I said, smiling.

About two hours later, she had showered and had gotten something to eat, and I'd given her a lot of extra food to take with her on her trip so that she wouldn't have to stop anywhere. It was a really sad moment when she had to get into the Prius and drive back to Virginia. I didn't want her to leave. My parents had already said their goodbyes, and I stood there at the car door trying not to cry. Yes, I can so totally be a puss when it comes to stuff like this. I'm not good with goodbyes, and I really didn't want to see her leave, obviously, yet it couldn't be avoided. After a really emotional few minutes for both of us, we finally parted ways, and she was on the road again back to Virginia.

As an aside, later, this exchange would happen between us this past weekend:

Lady: "The GPS took me down some really strange roads. It took me through what my aunt and uncle would refer to as 'the hollow,' or something. I got to see the real redneck side of West Virginia, with broken-down cars, loose dogs running around, and unsupervised children running around yards in nothing but diapers."

Me: "What, like Morgantown's student housing section? Sunnyside or something?" (note: this joke is doubly funny if you know what Sunnyside is/was like.)

Lady: "No, it was out by your house, before I got back to town. I went the same way we took to get into town, but halfway down the mountain it had me veer to the right down some back road or something. I can't remember what it was called. School or something."

Me: "...oh good god it took you down Summer School Road."

Lady: "Yeah, that's it!"

Summer School Road is a very, very winding and steep mountain back road between Morgantown and my parents' house. As Lady said, it would be best summarized as part of "the hollow," and her description of the houses/people along said road is quite accurate. Of all of the different roads, landmarks, people and places around my family home, it is one of those backwoods roads that is absolutely representative of the the stereotypical West Virginia redneck lifestyle. For the most part, anyway. The closer you get to Morgantown, the nicer the houses become.

Ahem. Anyway.

So, Lady left on her trip back to Virginia. A few minutes later, Mom found me standing in the yard in front of the porch, staring off into the distance.

"What's wrong?" Mom asked me, even though I'm pretty sure she already knew the answer to that question.

"I really wish she didn't have to leave," I replied.

This was truer than anyone else realized; while the time Lady had spent with me and my parents in West Virginia had been wonderful, I have already mentioned that because of her travel schedule, she would miss the party my parents were having at the house that afternoon. It had definitely been fun to go out with Andrea and Shainna (a picture of Andrea and Lady I took of them together, which I entitled "my two favorite women in the world," is my desktop wallpaper right now), but since the proverbial cat was out of the bag when it came to my friends knowing about Lady at this point, I wished I could have...ahem...shown her off a little to the rest of my friends and family. I know I'll get the chance eventually, of course, but still.

My dad and I went into Morgantown shortly after Lady left, in order to pick up last-minute party supplies (a cheesecake for the dessert, some fruits for a fruit tray, some ice for the cooler, etc). I texted Andrea and told her to come out to the house whenever she wanted or could, even if it was before the 4PM party "start time," partially because I was lonely and wanted to spend as much time with my sister as possible, but also because my mother loves Andrea and basically already knows everything about her I've shared here over the years, as she reads this blog.

While shopping with my dad, I found -- just sitting on the shelf -- a champagne-sized bottle of some sort of "special reserve" version of Blue Moon beer. I can't remember what it was called (for good reason), but it was supposed to be stronger and darker than the normal version, so I stuck it in the cart. I figured hell, this is my vacation, my lady love has just gone back home, and I will now be surrounded by family and family friends who will probably spend the evening interrogating me about my life. Let's get drunk.

Please note: I don't really drink. Like, ever. I can count on one hand the number of times I've been drunk since I started grad school, with the vast majority of those occasions being within my first year (and first semester, really, for obvious reasons). It's not like it's a hobby or anything, even though I'm a writer (and a poet at that). I just have no real desire to drink most of the time, not even when/if really depressed. But again, y'know, vacation. So without even knowing how much it cost, I stuck it in the cart, told my dad I'd pay for it if it was expensive, etc.

I won $10 on a scratch-off lottery ticket a few minutes later -- which, ironically, was how much said bottle of beer cost.

Anyway.

We returned home to finish preparing for the party. While waiting for Andrea to arrive (eventually, I mean) I sat on the front porch and cracked open this beer. This massive, massive beer. And within ten minutes I had emptied it.

It was, as you'll recall, the size of a champagne bottle. And I believe it was 12% abv. And I don't really drink, which means that you can guess what this huge bottle of beer did to me, especially on an empty stomach.

I walked back into the house and said, "Well, that was good. Now I'm drunk." And I dropped the bottle into the trash can. Yep. I actually did this.

I wasn't really drunk, but I had a good buzz going. Something that may be hard for most of my friends to understand is that I abhor drinking and actively try to avoid it most of the time, as said before, but when I do drink, I tend to drink to excess because the buzz makes me really happy and loosened up. Because of this, understandably, I get geezed.

I proceeded to drink three more normal-sized beers in rapid succession, so quickly and on such a mission to do so that I can't even remember what they were. I think one of them was a Yuengling Porter, but the others? Who knows. Andrea was the first to arrive, and she got to see me drunk for the first time ever (shocking, I know, as Andrea and I have been friends for a very long time). I slowed down, though; Brittany arrived soon thereafter, as did all of my family, my godparents, and important family friends that I so did not want to be a sloppy mess in front of. One good thing about being an English major (and teacher, and poet, etc) is that even when inebriated, with focus I can appear to be completely sober, as I am an eloquent speaker anyhow. Ahem, so I, um...I appeared sober while I was actually slowly sobering up. About an hour into the party, I was perfectly fine. That's another good thing about when I drink -- I must have some sort of super-liver, because I sober up quite rapidly, regardless of what I've drank or how fast, if I just stop. I don't know if it's genetics or what, but it's always been like that for me. So, by around 5:30 or so, I was right as rain.

The party, at its most populated, had about forty people attending it all at once. For the vast majority of it, I sat at the picnic table with Andrea and Brittany. I am made anxious by social situations, and most of the people there were my parents' friends, not my own. I did spend some time with the family, but that was later and after most of the parents' friends had left. Most of them barely spoke to me, but eh, that was fine. I heard the line "Hey, you're not in Kansas anymore" at least four times, and I internally twitched a little harder every time I did. Let's just say I was glad I was drinking before the party, because otherwise I would've been completely miserable. As it was, I had fun.

Most of the crowd dispersed around 8 or so, and went home -- including Andrea and Brittany. My dad's kids (read: my siblings) stuck around longer to relax and hang out, and I got some quiet time with them around the house -- they stayed until around 10 or so, roughly, despite the fact that they had an hour-long drive home. I didn't stay up too much later after everyone left; I was tired and sort of lonely without Lady there, so I called her to make sure she made it home safely to Virginia, which she had (my parents have free long-distance on their phones to basically anywhere) and very soon after, went to bed.

That was my Sunday. I didn't sleep that well, as I recall; I'd gotten used to sleeping with Lady over the previous two nights, and I tend to fall into a sort of pattern when we sleep together -- namely, both of us sleep like rocks (as previously mentioned), and after we part ways for however many days or weeks when we both go back to school, both of us tend to have a little trouble getting back into the groove of sleeping alone again. This usually means that I have to mentally and physically exhaust myself before I go to bed, otherwise I'll just lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. When I'm at my parents' house, I have no way to mentally/physically exhaust myself -- when I'm home, it usually entails doing a lot of writing/homework/chores/cleaning, etc. I can't really do that on a visit to West Virginia. So, needless to say, I tossed and turned all night.

Monday, when I awakened, was mostly uneventful. We'd decided before that we would visit my grandmother on Tuesday afternoon, and that evening we'd have dinner with my former boss from when I worked in the WVU Department of Microbiology, Immunology, and Cell Biology for five years. This left Monday as basically my "free day" of being at home with nothing to do. And for fuck's sake, I sorely needed that. Since Friday I'd been doing nothing but running around, and I was running myself ragged. When combining all the travel time with all the time with Lady and then the party, I had basically fried myself. I needed a day to recuperate. I haven't had a day just alone with my parents, at my childhood home, since 2006. I never realized that until this trip -- the previous two trips I'd made out there, the ex had come with me, and until Sunday night, I had Lady there with me -- as well as everyone at the party. For the first time in almost six full years, I was alone at the house with my parents.

And suddenly, I just felt this deep sense of restlessness. I don't know why. Perhaps it's because I was home, perhaps it's because I was worried about Lady's train trip back out here, perhaps it's because it felt so familiar to the situation I lived in for many many years -- just me and the parents. I remained restless for most of the day.

My mother at this point asked me what I wanted for dinner -- she wanted to cook me at least one home-cooked meal while I was home. I told her she didn't have to, of course, since she'd been cooking for the party since Saturday (and there were plenty of leftovers), but she insisted. To keep it basic and easy, I told her I'd be happy with steaks on the grill and baked potatoes, or something like that, just to minimize cooking/cleaning time. So that's what we decided to do. The problem? My parents, shockingly enough, did not have steaks in the house. This surprised me, as when it comes to food, my mother has basically prepped for ten years of nuclear winter. You folks should see the pantry in my parents' home -- I'm not kidding.

So, because of this, my dad and I decided to go out looking for steaks. This served a dual purpose, as the ladies at the local grocery store I worked at in '05-06 wanted to see me -- Mom had told them I was coming to town to visit, and I told them that whenever I visited, I would come up to see them. We also got to go to the new Walmart in the Kingwood area, a place that had not yet been completed when I moved out of West Virginia. At the Walmart, I found a Beatles t-shirt and a pair of DC Comics pajama pants, both on clearance, and I bought my mother one of those green ceramic frying pans -- but we found no steaks (my dad found some at the grocery store while I was visiting with the ladies there). We came home, had dinner, and made the plans for the next day. No big deal, and it was a mostly relaxing day with the parents.

While all of this was happening, however, Lady had boarded the train back to the midwest, and had been out of contact/cell phone service most of the day as she rode through the mountains by rail. She was technically supposed to be back in school that Monday (the 19th) but that was the earliest train she could get. The train ride was, as mentioned before, 36 hours long with two stops -- one in D.C. (I believe; correct me if I'm wrong, babe, since you read this too), and the other in Chicago. As our cell phones are really the only way we keep in contact when we're outside our homes and away from our computers, I figured that since I'd bought the refill card on Saturday while shopping with Andrea and Shainna, it was time to use it.

Except it didn't work.

I will refer you to my previous post, when I told the story of buying said T-Mobile refill card at Kmart, and it flashed on the screen saying that the activation had failed. The cashier had told me that happened with every card they activated, and that it was just what their registers did. Well, the registers were right. The card hadn't been activated, and upon looking at my receipt from that day at Kmart, it even said "ACTIVATION: FAILED" on it, yet the cashier sold it to me anyway.

So here I was, half an hour out of Morgantown on top of a mountain, out $50 cash I'd paid for the card, and unable to text Lady back and forth for travel updates.

Also of note: Lady has a Droid. It's a nice phone, despite the problems she has with it at times (short battery life, some of the apps crash for no real reason). She has unlimited calling/texting as well, because she has a plan. I don't. Since 2006 I've had a T-Mobile prepaid phone -- it still has my original Missouri phone number from when I lived there -- and up until recently, I never needed anything else. I rarely used my phone. When I did, it was to either call my parents or grandmother, or to text a friend or two in the department maybe once or twice a week at most. One $50 phone card lasted me almost a full year. Now I've bought three of them in the past three months or so. At this point I might as well get a plan of some sort.

But. That's neither here nor there.

So, in addition to the plans of going to see my grandmother and going to dinner with my former boss, I had yet another thing to do -- namely, go back to Kmart with the card and my receipt, and get them to properly activate the fucking thing, as I'd paid $50 for what amounted to a little cardboard card. Just add it to the list of running around things, I thought. We made tentative plans to leave early in the morning and get all of that stuff taken care of, go see my grandmother in the mid-afternoon, and then meet up with my boss at the local Mexican place at 4:30. I called Lady that night from the house phone to check in with her, as my phone minutes were completely emptied, and she was going through more mountains at the time, so the call got cut off about halfway through. But she was okay, at least, which was a plus.

And that was my Monday. Stay tuned, folks, for the next chapter -- when I discuss the last day in West Virginia and my trip home...as well as all of the other crazy stuff that happened over the course of the rest of my week.