𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧

53. Spanish Detour

Tuesday/January 31, 1995

     I woke up feeling bitchy. The circus from the night before was sitting on my mind. Every time I ran the playback, I kept spinning the narrative, wishing I said this or that... Wishing I spoke my mind a little bit louder.

     Confrontation was something I always used to try and avoid. But in these last few years, avoiding it was impossible. First it was my family bringing foolery to my front door and now I had to deal with the broken pieces of P's used-to-bees too?

     The plan last night was to fly home to our house on Lake Minnetonka, but at some point in the night, Lover got the plans arranged to fly us out to Spain. Sitting on the plane two hours in, I still didn't know what for. He said it was a secret and fell asleep.

     While he was out, I was spilling ink on paper.

I wonder what you think of it, that I didn't let you take me home

Does it sting that you never got to taste the good that got him gone?

I wonder what you think of it, do you stay awake?

After you make love to your king, is a prince still on your brain?

     It was nothing like I've ever written.

You know behind the scenes, he got me grippin' sheets.

I know you can't forget, how much you needed it.

It had you loving him fearless, though his loving was careless.

But it's not ever with me.

     This cocky fuck-you version of myself kept the biggest smile on my face. And every time a line came together, when I found those perfect words, I laughed a little. Finger snapping, I sang it quietly, finding the melody.

So tell me, tell me, sway me, just how am I crazy? You've been here before so who are you to judge me?

Take it up with GOD.

     "What's so funny?"

     I lifted my head and the man across from me still had his eyes closed, pulling his fleece blanket up closer to his chin.

     "What are you doing?"

     "Writing."

     He peeked at me, barely, squinting at the sun in his face. He reached to pull down the shade on the window. "We there yet?"

     I started writing again. "You were asleep for like an hour, babe."

     He sighed. Then stood up and took his blanket with him to change seats and sit next to me. As soon as he sat down, I brought the book to my chest.

     "Let me see," he said.

     "No. It's a work in progress."

     "So?"

     "So—bug off."

     "Why can't I—"

     "Babe, you're gonna mess up my flow." This little back and forth already took too much time away. I just wanted to get back to it. But this dude was persistent. I let him snatch it.