Tuesday March 4 2014

Chantal Goya (Mar 4 2014)[i]

Waking up around 2 p.m. I'm not feeling 100% – body still feels weak – it's some kind of flu. But I'm not completely useless. Ana just got a call from Whole Foods. They want to interview her at 3:30. I test her knowledge of diets cause that's what they asked Darren when he interviewed for the job.

Peanut Butter Oat Bites with fresh squeezed Orange Juice.

Ana brings back home a few things from the store for me to use in a Lentil and Vegetable Soup. I throw in anything I can: Carrots, Celery, Onions, Garlic, Ginger, Tomatoes, and Peppers. Toasting some Sourdough Bread to go with it – and Green Tea. I set up a tray of all the goodies on the bed. We watch Gravity (2013) and fill our bellies with the delicious hearty meal.

The goal today is just to rest. My body is still achy and my head feels like a balloon. I feel bad because I'm pretty much physically useless to Ana but I know she understands. She's here for moral support.

Her mom calls. She answers.

Ana: "Guess what? I had an interview today at Whole Foods."

Mom responds with something unintelligible.

Ana: "Whole Foods."

She turns the conversation on speaker, "Oh! Does it look like Wal-Mart?"

Ana: "No. It does not look like Wal-Mart."

Josh had to battle his own sickness the past three days. He does a cold water extraction of Vicodin; it's supposed to remove all the liver damaging chemicals in it and return it to a pure opiate form. He shares the mixture with me.

Ana and I continue to hole up in the bedroom. We each have our respective quiet time. While I research and write at my computer desk she fills out a loan application and writes in her journal. Sharing a Peanut Butter Bagel with a Banana. And continuing to sip on Tea with Apple Cider Vinegar and Honey. A poppy French band from the 60's called Chantal Goya entertains us.

I stay awake until 4 in the morning reading and writing. Those opiates had a positive effect on my body. Eventually I join Ana in the bed. After some prying I'm able to get her to finish a question she started muttering.

Essentially she asks, "Why do you love me?"

"That's not the right question," I explain. "Because I just love you. A deep enough bond has formed over the past year to the point where I feel like I can truly say I love you. Maybe what you're really asking is 'What do you love about me?'


[i] Image by me.

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