Saturday, April 14, 2007

Re-opening a wound

As I walked down the street to the church, I noted two things to myself. One, I would count my playing cards at the church smoker as an official trip to church (I did say a prayer for good cards to come my way so that counts), and two, I realized I didn't have my phone on me.

Being a guy who does not worry about missing a call, I shrugged it off. In fact, I hate people that have to take every single incoming call. Don't people understand how rude it is to begin talking on the phone when you are enjoying the company of other people? Emergency calls or business calls are one thing, but to suddenly ignore the people you are with because someone else is calling is wrong. Just my opin.

When I did get home, I noticed I had a voicemail. Oh, Gambino called. Let's see what she had to say. I started listening to the message with a smile on my face. The smile would fade and become a frown, then to one of shock. I cannot believe she dug up this old memory. One that had left a scar on my life.

It was years ago, at night after Summerfest. I don't recall who we had seen (maybe Journey as the message said, who knows), but I recall being attacked on a grassy knoll. Sexually assaulted some might say. Gambino and her friend came at me and tried to rip my pants off. She succeeded a bit, ripping the right side of my short wide open. Once I had fended my attackers off, I was forced to suffer the humiliation of having my right ass cheek out for the world to see on the walk back to the vehicle. The embarrassment would continue at the bar.

I had gotten over this, but Gambino decided to reopen the wound. She kind of rubbed some salt into that would as she had promised to replace those shorts. Of course, she never did. They were my all time favorite pair of shorts. Worn in nicely by my butt. Putting them on was like slipping my hand into a glove.

But they were destroyed and never replaced. I sit back and sigh, with a tear in my eye, thinking of those shorts. I can see where I buried them outside, by a rose bush.

Rest in peace my favorite piece of denim.

No comments: