May 7, 2008

Crawling from the wreckage, or tryin’ to anyway.

By Dr. Bud E. Bryan

Austin, Texas. Well sir, the only think I can think of right off the bat is that old fighter pilot expression about the quality of a landing, as in, "any one you can walk away from..." or something like that. The last time I left all of you out in WebVille, Jolene was typing an email to Nadine while I was out back drowning my sorrows in a bottle of Patron Anejo. Normally, a late afternoon session with a little Patron just adds that little bit extra oomph to my day, but that wasn't the case this time, because Jolene was hot. Not off the charts, blind-red fury hot, but hot nonetheless. Or should I say really, really agitated. You get the idea.

At any rate, as she was typing whatever it was she was typing, a few thoughts roiled around in my head. Oh you know, the typical thoughts I have on occasion like, "What the hell would I do if Jolene really did kick me to the curb?" Or, "What the hell would I do if suddenly I did end up back with Nadine?" That brief flash of a thought sent a chill down my spine that briefly paralyzed me for a bit, I'm quite certain. It was one of those scary moments where you want to speak, but can't. Want to move, but nothin' happens. Thankfully the moment - and the thought - didn't last. And the entire time I'm thinkin' my spectrum of scary life thoughts I hear Jolene banging furiously away inside on her keyboard. Now this girl can type, not like me (I can barely keep up with my own daydreams), and she was blazin' away letting Nadine know in no uncertain terms how this would all play out, I'm quite sure. Then I heard a definitive one-note slam on a key - and then silence - and I knew Jolene had just pressed "send."

Moments later the screen door opened, and she was standing right next to me. I just looked up at her over the top of my sunglasses, figurin' the last thing I needed to do was talk, seein' as how talkin' seems to be half my trouble these days. Jolene's expression was different. It was stern, oh, hell yes (she had her arms folded, which as us men know is always a bad sign), but there was something about it too. There was a little glint in her eye that suggested that my death sentence had been postponed, at least for now.

"What are you doing?" she said, abruptly.

Now, I bet you're all thinkin' the exact same thing, as in "Bud, for the love of god, man, don't say anything stupid." So I gave it a shot.

"Well, Baby, I'm just sitting here savoring my tequila, hopin' you're not ready to divorce me. And wanting to tell you that I love you and I couldn't live a day without you."

She looked at me for a moment, and then tears welled up in her eyes.

"And, I'm sorry."

With that she crumpled down on me and buried her face in my neck, cryin' her eyes out. I just held her as tight as I could as she let it all go. And after a few minutes, as we were just quietly sitting there, we heard the little email chime go off on her computer, signaling that she had new mail.

She gave me one of those kisses that made it clear I was still in the game, and then she got up off my lap and went inside.

Not ten seconds later, I hear, "THAT F---ING BITCH! THIS SHIT ENDS RIGHT NOW!" coming from inside the house.

I stood up and tried to say something helpful like, "Honey, I don't think it's a good idea..." but I heard the door slam and then I peaked around the house to see her peeling out of the driveway in her car.

Uh-oh. Now of all the scenarios that come under the definition of "not good," this one was something I didn't anticipate in the least.

I ran inside and looked at her computer, and Nadine - in typical hell-raising fashion - had replied, "Don't think for one second that you can keep me away from Bud, I don't care how good your Nurse Nightingale act was. If I really wanted him back, you'd be history so fast it would make your little head spin. You're out of your league."

My eyes popped out of my head. "Oh no she didn't!" I thought to myself. But she did. Boy, did she ever.

Now what could Jolene possibly be doing? I thought for a nanosecond and muttered to myself, Uh-oh, Part II. She was headin' for the hills, The West Hills of Austin, that is - where Nadine and Charles live.

Holy shit!

I was about to grab my keys and try to head her off at the pass somehow, when I happened to take one more glance at her computer screen.

I couldn't read all of it, but I got the drift. Jolene had written 10 reasons why Nadine would never, ever know me or love me like she does.

The last one being: "I didn't sit by his bedside 24 hours a day in the hospital - the hospital you put him in, remember - and then bring him home and nurse him back to health and build a life together with him to see it all blown up by your juvenile, slutty behavior. Grow up and get a life. Better yet, live your own life - and leave us alone."

I'd say that about covers it, don't you?

I grabbed my keys and headed out the door, thinking the entire time that this wasn't going to be good.

Now getting over to the West Hills is a pain in the ass at that time of day, so I knew this wouldn't be a quick trip. I decided to take an alternate route in hopes I could get there before Jolene, but I had this sinking feeling that I wasn’t going to make it.

I contemplated warning Nadine, but something tells me she was provoking Jolene into some sort of confrontation, so she probably wouldn't answer if she saw my number come up anyway.

It seemed like it took f-o-r-e-v-e-r to get over there, and as I was pulling down Nadine's street I saw the ass-end of Jolene's BMW take a hard left into Nadine's driveway. Shit. Way back when I had taken Jolene on a tour of the West Hills, and we did a drive-by of Nadine and Charles' house. How the hell did she remember where it was? Now, just as I was about to pull in, here comes Charles in his big black S-Class Mercedes coming from the other direction, and then he pulls into the circular driveway, from the other side.

(Now their house is sort of this Tuscan-esque mini-palace with cobblestone driveway, opulent front door and entryway, and lavish landscaping. It's beautiful to the last detail, but the tasteful ambience wasn't on my mind at that particular moment.)

I did a bat turn into Nadine's driveway, only to see Nadine and Jolene no more than a foot away from each other on their front porch, locked in a deep confrontational discussion, no doubt. I tore out of my car and ran over there, arriving just as Charles was doing the exact same thing.

"How dare you conduct yourself like some out-of-control coed in heat! Quit embarrassing yourself!" was the last thing I heard Jolene say - right before Nadine hauled off and slapped her - hard.

I grabbed Jolene and wrapped her up in my arms and started pulling her away, just as Charles clamped down on Nadine to do the same. Both girls were flailing away trying to get at each other, with their feet off of the ground, screaming at the top of their lungs.

I dragged Jolene off toward my car. I don't know what Chucky was doing, but I assume he was trying to drag Nadine inside at that point. What a mess.

Then, just like that Jolene totally stopped and said calmly, "Put me down."

"Now Baby," I said. "Come on, let's get outta here."

"I'm fine. And I’m not going to behave like this. It’s stupid and I won’t sink to her level." With that she just stood there, her arms folded, a big crimson welt looming on the side of her face, glaring across the driveway at Nadine.

I looked over to see Chucky getting right in Nadine's face. I couldn't hear what he was telling her, but I could tell he was royally pissed-off and she was listening intently, looking down at her 4” high Jimmy Choo pumps.

"Let's go home, Baby. Come on." I started to lead Jolene away when I heard Nadine say, "Wait!"

I tried to keep moving Jolene along when she stopped and turned around. "What?" she said defiantly.

Then I see Charles leading Nadine over to us with a vice grip on her arm.

Now Charles is the quintessential "suit" kind of guy, buttoned-up, detailed, great big-bucks smile. The kind of guy who wakes up makin’ money. Slick, jovial and country club smooth, he’s basically a dweeb. A very rich dweeb, but a dweeb nonetheless. But I hadn’t seen ol’ Charlie like this. He was pissed and the grim expression on his face told me that there was at least a pulse in the guy, which was encouraging to know. He couldn’t be a total stiff if Nadine tolerated him.

“Nadine has something to say,” Charles said. “Hey, Bud.” He looked at me, giving me a fleeting look that said ‘I know my wife still loves your ass and it really pisses me off, and I know you know that I know that you know, but here we are.’

Like I said, it was quite a look.

“Nadine.” Charles pulled her tight next to him.

“I apologize, Jolene. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. And I probably shouldn’t have done the gas station thing either,” Nadine said it through her clenched teeth. You could tell she didn’t want to say it, but she did anyway.

“What gas station thing?” Charles looked sideways at Nadine.

“The gas station thing when she draped herself all over Bud and made a very public scene, carrying on, sticking her tongue down his throat, and rubbing all up against him. That gas station thing,” Jolene responded.

“What the F---?” Charlie was hot now and he spun Nadine around to make sure she knew how hot he was. She definitely did.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Nadine said.

“You’re damn right we will,” Charles shot back.

There was a painful silence, and then Jolene said, “Fine.” She turned around, and started walking to her car at a fast clip. I glanced back to see Nadine and Charles standing there, his arm still locked tightly around hers, and Nadine gave me this look that only I have seen, I’m quite sure.

The look said something like, “I’m not done with you, Bud.”

Yikes.

I turned and caught up with Jolene; made sure she was belted in her car, and then followed her, never wavering from her ass the entire way home.

We pulled into the driveway and Jolene bolted for the house. I could take a hint: She didn’t want to talk. By the time I got inside, our bedroom door was closed and she had the shower running.

Now, you’re probably thinking, that was pretty okay for Bud-Land, all things considered. And I was thinking the exact same thing. A bullet dodged. An ass saved, or somethin’ like that. It wasn’t all good, but it wasn’t bad either. I mean that confrontation could have gone nuclear at any moment, so I was actually quite pleased with myself, come to think of it.

That night, I stayed in my office until late reading some old Indy 500 race reports, and when I finally looked at the clock, it was pushin’ midnight. I went in and checked on Jolene, and she was sound asleep. I’m sure she had been for at least a couple of hours anyway.

I went around the house turning the few lights off that were burnin’ and went back into my office. Just as I was about to turn my computer off, an email came in.

It was from Nadine.

“Bud – I’m really sorry for all this. I just can’t help myself sometimes when I get around you. You still got it, Baby. You’re still The One for me, no matter what happens. And oh by the way, I’ve left Charles. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t be the Country Club Queen one more minute. I’m at the Four Seasons if you need me. I Love You – more than you’ll ever know. - Nadine”

The pain started somewhere down my leg, shot right up my back and burst into an instant migraine that about knocked me off my feet. I slumped into my chair and re-read Nadine’s email again.

“I’m at the Four Seasons if you need me...”

Just then my cell phone lit-up like the Fourth of July.

“Hey, Bud.”

“Uh, hey, Nadine. What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m just callin’ to say goodnight.”

“I gathered. But you need to go home, Nadine. There is not one bit of this that is going to be good. Do you hear me?”

“My, my, my, so when did you become the Voice of Reason all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s my long dormant self-preservation instinct taking over.”

“Nice try, Bud. But you never had a self-preservation instinct. Not ever. If you did, you’d be married to a very nice, plain girl living in a very nice, quiet suburb with three very nice, quiet kids. That’s not you by any stretch of the imagination now is it?

“No,” I said sheepishly.

“Weren’t you the guy that picked me up at the Gruene Hall on a wing and a prayer, talkin’ some sweet talkin’ bullshit?”

“Yeah.”

“And we didn’t come up for air until three days later now did we?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Weren’t you the guy that drove me to San Antonio in a Mustang convertible at 2:00 in the morning, and all we were wearin’ were our cowboy boots and smiles?”

“Uh, yes, m’am.”

“And, correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you the guy who jumped off my balcony into my swimming pool, wearin’ nothin’ but a Texas longhorn headdress and clutching two bottles of tequila, yelling ‘I’m the King of the World’?”

“That would be me, yes.”

“So spare me the bullshit, Bud. It’s me you’re talkin’ to. Self-preservation instinct my ass. And no matter what Jolene says, nobody knows you like I do.”

“I still think you should go home, Nadine. Really.”

“Well Bud, that’s not your call now is it?

“I guess not.”

“You guessed correctly. And Bud?”

“What?”

“I love you. And I want you. So there.”

At that point, I could no longer speak. She said “goodnight” and hung up the phone. I turned my damn phone off and slowly pushed myself away from my desk. I shut my computer off and tried to stand, but my legs felt like five-year-old pipe cleaners. My head was bangin’ like a collegiate bass drum.

And all I could think of were those fateful words by Nancy Kerrigan, which were ringing in my ears...loudly.

“Why me, why now?”

Oh, brother...why me, why now indeed.

To be continued...