The Literary Girlfriend: Crazy Stuff

After more than a week of living in sin with Danielle, I started getting comfortable with the idea of what she called “crazy shit” in her life.  Despite her big talk, I had seen little of this alleged “crazy shit.”  She had alluded to it, but I hadn’t seen much proof, other than some harmlessly weird behavior.  Wearing inappropriate clothes, and over-cursing in front of kids and old ladies, and making weird noises in the library, and getting us kicked out of a football game, all of that was outside my comfort zone, but it wasn’t what I called “crazy.”

I was starting to wonder if Danielle was exaggerating the “crazy shit.”  People did that.  Maybe she was a bit dramatic about her personal life, but I wasn’t going to fault her for that.  We were living in sin, and I liked her being around.  If she wanted to call some of her minor bizarre behavior “crazy shit,” then I’d call it “crazy shit” too, and both of us would be happy.

And then the crazy stuff started to happen.

I was returning home from work on the Monday after the football game incident.   My/our apartment complex was spread out all over the block so that I had to park a couple buildings away from where we lived, and as I was walking from my car and turned the corner to my apartment unit, I heard two women yelling “bitch!” at each other.  I stopped and listened carefully, dreading the possibility that one of the voices belonged to Danielle.  Unfortunately, once I walked closer, my fears were confirmed.

Danielle stood on my/our second floor apartment balcony yelling at another woman who was standing with a muscular guy outside our front door.  The other woman was tall, skinny, and wearing tight inappropriate clothes like Danielle.  Danielle and this skinny woman kept calling each other “bitch!” really loudly while the muscular guy watched with his arms folded.  I was pretty sure all my neighbors were either really concerned or thoroughly entertained by the scene.

I hesitated before walking up to my/our apartment.  I thought about turning around, strolling back to my car, and driving off.  I could call Danielle from work and tell her I was running late.  I really don’t like loud confrontations.  They make me uncomfortable. And whatever was going on, Danielle was safe.  She could call that skinny woman a bitch to her heart’s content behind the safety of the balcony and could always step into  the apartment when her vocal chords got tired.  But I knew I had to back up my girlfriend.  If she was willing to live in sin with me, I had to be willing to at least see what was going on.

As I got closer, I could see that my initial impressions were right.  The skinny woman dressed a lot like Danielle, with a tight t-shirt and shorts that went up too high.  Besides that, they didn’t look anything alike.  The skinny woman was blonde with an orange salon tan.  Plus, the skinny woman wore too much make up.  It made her look kind of slutty.  I know I probably shouldn’t refer to her as the slutty blonde, but even after all these years I feel the need to back Danielle up in these types of conflicts.

I felt a bit wary of the guy the slutty blonde was with.  He was a little shorter than me but muscularly broad with a wife beater shirt and a bunch of cheap tattoos on his arm.  His facial hair was patchy, and he had a pissed off narrow-eyed expression as he tried to stare me down. I wasn’t sure what to say to him, so I gave him the nod of acknowledgement.   When in doubt, I always go for the nod.

Then I asked Danielle, “What’s going on?”

“She stole my furniture,” the slutty blonde said before Danielle could respond.  The guy took a half step toward me, and I instinctively moved back and regretted giving up the space.

“She owes me money,” Danielle yelled back.

“I want my furniture back, bitch!” the slutty blonde screamed.

“I want my money, bitch!” Danielle screamed back.

My mind works slowly sometimes, and it took me a moment to process this while Danielle and the slutty blonde were calling each other “bitch” with a bunch of adjectives thrown in.  Danielle was accused of stealing the slutty blonde’s furniture.  Danielle did not deny the accusation.  Danielle instead said the slutty blonde owed her money.  Last week, Danielle had replaced my beat up furniture with much nicer furniture.  The furniture had not been brand new.  My conclusion?

“Danielle,” I said.  “Do you… happen to have… this lady’s… furniture?”

Danielle stared at me, then said with her mouth tight, “Yes, Jimmy.  I…happen to have… her… furniture.”

To an onlooker, Danielle probably sounded like she was being rude, but at least I knew that Danielle had understood my question.  The slutty blonde’s furniture was in my/our apartment.

“Do you want to… maybe… give… this lady… her furniture back?” I asked.

“Yeah, when… she… gives me… my money.”

“I’m gonna call the police,” the slutty blonde said.

“Call the police, bitch,” Danielle said.  “See who goes to jail.”

The tattooed guy turned to me.  “What’ you gonna do about this, pussy?”

Then he took a couple steps toward me.  There wasn’t much space between us now.  I could step back and stumble down the stairs, or I could turn and make a stand against the wood railing behind me.  I swiveled and backed up against the wood railing.  I took a deep breath, hoping to have a moment to emotionally prepare myself for what was about to happen.  I could tell that I wasn’t going to be able to talk this guy down.  He had a point to prove to his woman.  I kept my eyes on the tattooed guy and caught Danielle from the corner of my eye.  She could end this by giving the furniture back.  That was all she had to do, but she was still in a bitch-calling contest with the slutty blonde.  She either wasn’t aware of what was about to happen to me or she didn’t care.  Danielle wasn’t going to back down.  This tattooed guy wasn’t going to back down.  I either had to flee or fight.

*****

To be continued in… The Literary Girlfriend: Crazy Stuff Part 2 .