Elle Severe Presents

Le Reve

In Random on July 19, 2013 by Elle Severe


Two weeks ago I had the occasion to receive some delightful pain medication and that’s all I’m going to say about that.

So here’s what happened last night:

I watched Fashion Police as I do every Friday night, (Joan Rivers is an addictive little minx) and then just as I was about to shut the tv off, I watched a quick commercial for the E! News that was coming on at 11pm. They had a few celeb stories they were working on and then they said, “And what’s up with Ben Affleck” and I just shut the tv off because I’m all set with E!, to be honest. I’m not really sure why, I just don’t like that station even though I watch 90% of its programming. I guess I’m locked in some weird love/hate relationship with E!. I feel that way about most of my relationships, so this is nothing new.

Anyway, I do the typical pre-bed preparations, e.g., shutting off lights, brushing teeth, popping pills, etc. I climb into my super comfy bed and notice that my husband (Tony) isn’t in the bed even though he went to bed before me. I assume that he’s just decided to have a before bed cigarette. Those are my favorite cigarettes ever because I love when my bed smells like cigarettes, I mean, who doesn’t? Sexy as hell.

Sarcasm aside, I’m actually happy he’s not in the bed. His absence allows me to sprawl.  If he was in the bed I would have little to work with and be stuck with precisely my side. But since he’s not there, manning his territory, I can sneak my way over slightly and stake my claim over the border, so to speak.  Then when he comes back and gets into bed, we’ll either have an unspoken pushing argument with him emerging as victor as I pull my right arm and right leg back over onto my side, or he’ll decide it’s not worth it and he’ll just deal with having little to no room and then I win. Either way, it’s worth the fight.

But as I’m lying there, I feel like he’s been gone too long and it’s getting late. This is causing me to feel anxious. One cigarette is five minutes so where is he? What is he doing? I mean honestly, this fucking guy takes forever doing anything. And I’m used to it by now after 12 years of being together and him taking 45 minutes to do everything from shit to run to the store to get milk to switching over the laundry, but this is long even for him. As I’m lying there I begin to get myself really wound up so I say, “screw it” and I get up. I’m going to find this guy.

I turn on the lamp on my bureau just as Tony walks in. He looks a mess. His hair is disheveled, he’s acting very strange and I can see that he’s been crying. What the fuck is going on. I go to him. He can barely look at me. I’m standing in front of him, and now I’m panicking, something is very, very, dreadfully wrong. Is he having an affair? Has he chosen now, at 11pm on a random Friday night in June to confess his sins? If so, I’m going to kill him because we have plans all weekend and I’m not even trying to have divorce talk ruin my weekend. Again. J/k. Lol. No, that’s not it, is there something wrong with one of my kids? What the fuck is going on?

I say, “What’s wrong, what’s going on? You’re freaking me out, please talk to me”, he runs his hands through his hair, he is a MESS, he tries to speak but he just chokes, he whispers something, I can’t hear him, “What is it, just say it, it can’t be that bad, what is it?”, now tears are streaming down his face, he tries again, this time I hear him: “Ben”. That’s all he says, just “Ben”. But it’s enough. Now I know, oh God, Do I Know. “Nooooo” I say, “Oh God, How? What happened”, he shakes his head, he can’t speak. “Tell me, tell me, TELL ME”, Tony says two words: “Car accident” and then I lose it. I can feel my brain exploding into a million little pieces…I can feel my heart beating in my chest so hard, immediately I’m sweating, I’m for sure having a heart attack, this cannot be happening. I start to fall, Tony grabs my wrists to support me and says “Please, please”, and tries to hold me. I try to pull away, I look him in his eyes and I say “Jen”, and then oh my God, there is pain, abject, sorrow welling inside of me. And now I look at Tony and he whispers “Violet, Sera, Sam…no father”, I can’t take this, I feel like the world is over, this can’t be happening, not to him, not now. He just fought so long and hard to get back to a good place in his life! He deserves to be happy and poor, poor Jen. At this point I fall to my knees, I am now sobbing wildly, uncontrollably and can’t breathe.  Tony is crying again but says “We have to call Matt”. No. I’m not calling Matt. I’m not calling him to tell him best friend is dead. No. And then I just stay rooted to the floor looking at my carpet and deciding that this is one of the worst days of my life and I cannot bear the pain I am feeling…and then, just when I think this is too much to bear,  I reach out to Tony and…I wake up.

So the moral of this story is that pain meds are awesome.

PS. My pillow was soaked and my eyes were swollen, I was apparently dream crying pretty damn hard. I guess I really care about Ben Affleck.

 

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