I had one of those awful dreams again. It was my maternal grandfather this time. Commonly known to me and the other grandkids as Poppa. Usually when I have dreams about friends or family members dying, I wake up and they always seem so...implausible. But this one was different. Poppa is old, and showing the early stages of Alzheimer's. I woke up crying, I don't know what time it was. It didn't even feel as if I'd been sleeping very long, because I fell asleep crying too. Friday was the anniversary of Oliver's death. I didn't realize it till I got home from work that day. I wasn't really paying attention to the date, But as soon as I realized it was the 8th...I knew. That got me thinking about how it happened, the mental image in my head of Brandon carrying my limp, lifeless puppy across the feeder road, where he laid him in a dense patch of trees. His eternal resting place. I just kept thinking that I would have never made it through that without Brandon. And that is one of the fondest memories I have of him.
And then I started thinking, what if something happened to Jasper? I just couldn't go on if I had to go through that again. Especially alone. My train of thought went on and on like this all weekend, but my biggest concern became, What would happen to Jasper, if something happened to me? And the only answer I was satisfied with was, Brandon will have to take him. Because I know Brandon loves him, and would take good care of him, and Jasper would be happy with him.
So Friday night I planned on talking to Brandon about it at work. But...things didn't really work out that way. His slore showed up at the bar, got hammered, and was still sitting there, with her head on her arms, after hours, waiting for him, while we were counting money. Why the fuck does she have to be at my bar!?? Why couldn't she just leave with her stupid friends?? I wanted to set her on fire. Ugh. It's bad enough that I have to work with Brandon, look at him and wonder how you can go from being best friends with someone, to not speaking to them at all. And then she shows up, encroaching on my territory. ((sigh))
I walked back into the office to change out some big bills and Brandon was back there, talking to Mark.
"Hey, your slutwhore's out there waiting for you." I said, before I could stop myself. All my emotions - sadness about what day it was, the fact that it had never even occured to Brandon what day it was, seeing that stupid whitetrash slutface cheapfuck harlot of a girlfriend of his - everything just bubbled up to the surface. Deep down, I was seething.
"She's not a slutwhore." He said.
"Um, YEA, she is." I said.
"Easy, sweety!" Greg said, but I could tell he really just wanted to laugh.
After that, I went about my business as if the heated exchange between Brandon and I had never happened. But I went home upset, and disappointed. I didn't get to ask him about Jasper, and I knew I still had to. But part of me wanted to just say "Forget it! Someone else will take Jasper." And maybe I'm being a little over-the-top about my dog, but he's like my child. And I really do just want what's best for him, even if that is Brandon.
The next night at work, Brandon wasn't there. When I walked in it was kind of like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, not having to see him. I asked Greg if he thought I should apologize to Brandon for what I said about The Slore.
He laughed and said firmly, "NO! No, you should not."
I felt instantly better.
But then, at 1am, Brandon showed up. He'd been working at the new bar (jealous! SO not fair that he gets to pick up shifts over there when he SUCKS!!!!), and he came strolling in all pompous-like with that stupid uniform on. They have to wear ties. Apparently someone called him over, because it was so busy.
Greg was like, "Dude take off that fucking tie, you look like a retard!"
Brandon blundered on about not having time or something, but we both knew he thought he looked cool. What a dumbass.
Then Brandon proceeded to piss me off for the rest of the night! When the bar closed, he disappeared somewhere while everyone else was cleaning. Then when he came back, he sat his ass down and started counting tips! It is an unspoken rule that no one counts tips until all the cleaning is done. It's only fair.
So I walked back and said in my calmest, most collected, nonchalant voice, "Hey Brandon, could you come up here and help us? We're not done up front."
"Well I already did everything back here!" He said, which was a lie, because he didn't even work the back bar. Aaron did, and Aaron did most of the cleaning, and he was up front helping us!
"Ok, well Aaron is up here helping us." I said.
"Well I'm just counting tips cuz [blablabla excuses]"
I was running out of patience.
"Ok fine. Just stay back there then, don't worry about it." I said, with an obvious inflection that it was not fine.
Looking back on the situation, it's almost amusing, the great lengths he goes to to avoid me, but still. That's fucking ridiculous. Do your fucking job and we won't have any problems. G's...
So Saturday night, I went home pissed off.
And Sunday was my day of reflection. I replayed the entire weekend, and that whole horrible day in my mind. January 8th, 2009. And I thought about the integral part that Brandon played, and how he'd been there when I got Jasper, and how much he loves him. ((Sigh))
That's it, I told myself, and I picked up the phone and dialed Brandon's number.
No answer. ((Sigh))
Text message: Hey, call me when you get a chance. I have to ask you something.
Then I finally got in bed. And cried. Cried about Oliver, cried about Brandon, cried about...just everything. I don't wanna die alone. Then I fell into a horrible dream about my grandpa dying, and I woke up again, sobbing. But Jasper was snuggled up against my back, and just his warm body was enough to calm me down. I fell back asleep pretty quickly and didn't dream again.
When I woke up this morning, I saw that I had a missed call from Brandon at 12:44am. I'm going to call him back when I get off work. I wonder what he'll say. Will he try to talk to me? Will it be super awkward? Or will it be easier to talk without the influence of work surrounding us? I don't know what to expect. But I'm not gonna try to talk to him about anything, just Jasper. I started making a living will today. It's pretty basic. I mean...most of my stuff, I don't care where it ends up, but there are sentimental things that I would like to see fall into the appropriate hands. I also included usernames and passwords for email accounts and stuff. Including this blog. So...if I ever die, hopefully you guys will find out about it. It won't be like I'll just stop posting one day out of the blue.
I'm going to send the living will to Sophie, when I finish it. Most of my stuff is going to her anyway. I'll be glad when I'm finished with it, because I feel like a black cloud has been looming over me. Thinking about death is not pleasant, but sometimes, it needs to be done. Nobody plans death, it just...happens.