That Was Joyce

As I am known to do I was standing by the gate chatting with a neighbor when we noticed the car slow down then go down the block and turn around. Both of us wondered what the driver might be doing till it pulled in front of us and stopped. A fairly attractive woman got out with a broad smile on her face and walked towards us. There was a distant familiarity to her but I didn't instantly recognize her.

When my mind allowed the data from its rolladex to rise to the surface I felt a sudden rush of pain and animosity. Even the seemly forever time since September, 1981 had not erased the ugliness she brought into my life which had racked me with pain and frustration with her uncaring ways. This, a woman I had loved, but who had driven me to the point of nearly hating, was smiling at me as if I was a long lost friend she had been missing. With the same falsey presented poise and grace she purred, "Spencer you look well. I have missed you. I hear about you often but never see you out so I have been passing by here in hopes of catching you outside."

Upon introduction to the fellow I was chatting with she purred a greeting and turned back to face me. Like a private in the army at attention for a first uniform inspection she seemed to be posing for approval. In just the brief moments of her presence a long forgotten ailment she brought on was quickly taking over me. I had nearly forgotten the fullness and nearly breathless panic like attacks which she made the order of the day. I could depend on her to do something uncaring,inconsiderate, something totally selfish with no regard for me or her son. In a split second an entire reel of tape from her era rushed before me and I felt overwhelmed.

Though it finally came out I found it difficult to ask how and what she was doing in an attempt to be civil but to my chagrin after all these years she still controlled the worst in me. Her steps toward me as if to embrace a greeting were met with an automatic step back in retreat from her. Her plastered smile never changed and I could see the quizzical look in her eyes. Not one which questioned why I stepped back but from experiece I new it was her personal challenge which told her if she continued her process "he" would eventually fall to her desires. I was that lonely failure of hers who saw through the thin veil of deceit. The lone one who allowed her enough rope to hang herself and forced her to see inside herself. The lone one who pointed out her lifestyle which was abusive to her child. A child she refused
to allow to be in the way of her excessive partying, drinking and drug abuse.

We stared in each others eyes briefly though her recoil let me know it seemed an eternity to her. After a few words chatting as if we were old neigbors instead of lovers she bid me fairwell and drove off. I stood there watching her drive down the street attempting to force all that venom back into its hiding place where it had been for 26 years.

My buddy made some remark about how sweet a woman she seemed.

Damn, if he only knew. That was Joyce.