Cherie – Chapter 36 – Four to Eight – Part One

So baby’s coming down on Sunday to see me. We both have crazy busy schedules. But we make it work and I like it. I like the distance between the pillars that support the temple of our relationship. I’ve never had that. It’s always been the traditional American bullshit progression that goes nowhere and ends in failure. This actually works really well for me. I love intense bursts of energy with my friends but then I like to be alone for a while. It’s inevitable right now based on where we both are in our lives and it’s working beautifully. I love it.

She says she’ll be down around 4:30pm on Sunday.

Cool.

I get done at the salon at 4. She says she has to be on an 8:30 train back to Pottstown. I’m thinking, perfect. Come down early Sunday, I’ll feed her and give her some dinner, and then tomorrow we’ll get up early, I’ll take her to breakfast and she’ll be on a train back home or to school, and I’ll be writing this blog getting the 1/2 off cheesteak by noon on Monday at my local haunt.

I finish up at the salon, and we meet up on the street after she gets off the train. I take her to Mix Pizza, because I know she loves that place from our early encounters.

We get there and instead of sitting in the back bar, we sit in the main dining room. We order a 12 inch pie that is just enough for the both of us. We’ll murder that tiny pie. She likes extra cheese, and I’m okay with that because she wants that but I know that dairy will fuck with my stomach. But I don’t care. I love her. If that’s what baby wants, that’s fine.

Our waitress is banged up. I don’t mean drunk, I mean it looks like she was in a car accident or is a victim of domestic violence.

We can’t say anything even though I want to so badly. Puffy eye, cuts and bruises on her. I’m feeling sad and concerned. I have three sisters a daughter and a girlfriend. If I know a man raised his hand to my waitress I’ll have a hit put out his worthless ass.

But Cherie tells me to behave. We’ll get our little brick oven fresh pizza and go home.

She brings out not a 12 inch pizza, not the next size up, but the biggest fucking pizza they make with extra cheese. The order is wrong, I’m tired from work and I know I’m going to spend some quality time in the bathroom. But I’m happy to be sitting across from my queen and I’m okay.

I make some jokes to her about why the order is wrong to Cherie and why our server got beat up.

“Because she doesn’t listen.” (Kidding. I feel bad for her. Maybe she just fell off her bicycle.)

“I will kick you so hard under the table your mom will feel it, if you don’t stop.”

I always make jokes when I’m sad or suffering for someone, to ease the tension in my heart, and Cherie knows this but she just wants me to stop.

(I did make a few more. Just to deal with it, and I love to watch her lovely dark almond eyes narrow and tell me to shut up.)

She knows I’m kidding. She knows me and knows I feel for this girl, and hates the fact that she is feeling what she’s feeling from my dark jest.

When I’m scared or sad I always joke to deal with my anxiety, sadness or depression. It’s a combative mechanism to help me deal with life.

We have a nice dinner and she’s happy. I love her braids. I hope they last all summer. Every time I see her, she seems more beautiful to me. She’s already gorgeous, but I am falling deeper in love with her soul. Her spirit. Her voice. Her mind. Her heart.

Cherie is a complex, beautiful human being that has come a long way at her ripe 27 years. I love her sweet calm with me. I love her wise maturity. I love that she is a parent like myself. She’s always struggling with what we all do with work, children and education, but she does it as a woman. My relationship with her has redefined me as an adult. I continue to evolve. She makes me grow as a man. I love that I continue to evolve. My life is changing.

I’m about to open a new business in Rittenhouse. If it’s successful, it will change my life dramatically. It will mean I can do more for my daughter Lorelei and change her life too. I’m beginning to think that sitting at Square 1682 getting cheap drinks and hanging with the same cast of characters is a waste of my talent.

I like these people but I think our time together is a bit of a waste of time. Nice people, but I’m carrying a lot of their water on my ship. I appreciate them.

I do. But I think I am growing out and away from them.

Just evolving as usual. It happens.

I was sitting at the bar the other night at Square and as usual I am loving the bartender Roman. He’s glorious. He is what I need him to be and he knows that. I take care of him. He’s amazing. He’s a husband and a dad and we have a history that is connected.

But I looked to the friend to the right of me and I started to see that I don’t need to do this anymore. The game is changing.

I’m changing.

There’s no value in this anymore. She has positioned herself with someone I no longer speak with and I know is nuts and has hurt my friend Alice.

I look to my left and here is my other friend. A lost confused damaged soul that can’t get out of his own fucking way to do go forward.

What am I doing here?

I was at City Hall today with my business partner getting our permit to open our fitness center.

That’s what I need to focus on. Going forward and building a business.

This happens throughout ones life if you continue to evolve. They come in and visit for a while and then they have to go because you grow beyond them. I think I need to faze them out. I may or may not do that, but I need to withdrawal from their stagnant drama.

I used to be in the public eye all of the time. Blowing up social media constantly. Many people and beautiful women basked in my light and I was just left with the hangover.

It’s okay. I had a great time but I’m getting older and I just can’t carry their weight anymore.

I want to build something.

 

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, share, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish every day at 8am EST.

 

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Author: phicklephilly

Copyright © 2016 by Phicklephilly All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. All stories and characters are based on real people and events. The names and images have been changed to protect their privacy. Comment Rules: Remember what Fonzie was like? Cool. That’s how we’re gonna be — cool. Critical is fine, but if you’re rude, we’ll delete your stuff. Please do not put your URL in the comment text and please use your PERSONAL name or initials and not your business name, as the latter comes off like spam. Have fun and thanks for adding to the conversation!”

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