Yesterday, I picked up my buddy Liz, who finally got back from her tour in Iraq. As she is without wheels for a few days and lives out in the boonies, she is staying in the guest bedroom of my apartment, which is a ten minute walk from the post. Liz, by the way, dates my buddy Chris, who was due in last night from a trip he took with some other Army buddies to Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia.
At any rate, after going out to eat, Liz and I went back to my apartment where I showed her "The Grudge", an American remake of a Japanese horror movie about a haunted house that I find to be terrifying (though I'm a complete sissy when it comes to those sorts of things). In the movie, a Japanese boogeywoman chases down anyone who enters the house and swallows their souls (which sounds like a retarded conceit, but really is scary, I promise). I thought it would be a great thing to scare the living bejesus out of Liz on her first night back in the world.
While we were watching, at that moment in every horror movie where one feels the urge to tell the characters on screen that they're being really stupid because they're about to be sliced and diced ("Let's go check out that strange noise down in the basement of the house where all the people seem to turn up butchered!"), Chris called. Liz freaked and jammed her claws through my rib cage, which produced a banshee-like wail and a sadly pathetic (in a four year old child sort of way) attempt to extricate her talons from my pericardium. He'd gotten back in town and he needed a ride to the airport the next morning. It was already relatively late (10:30pm or so) and he said that he'd be a little while packing before he came over. I'd told him to just come over and spend the night because we'd have to leave for the airport at four in the morning.
Liz and I finished up the movie, which I was pleased to have survived, even if I did have several lacerations and a punctured lung from her attacks on me throughout the picture. She made me stay in the guest bedroom with her until she fell asleep, at which point I went out to the living room to give Chris a call, in order to find out how much longer he'd be. He said it wouldn't be too much longer so I told him I was going to sleep but that I'd have my cell phone next to my bed so he could call when he got downstairs if I didn't hear the buzzer(so that I could buzz him in to the building).
I was awoken perhaps thirty minutes later to the buzzer, which let me know that Chris was downstairs. Groggily, I tumbled over to the front door, pressed the buzzer to let Chris in, cracked the door so that he could get in after going up the four flights of stairs, and went right back to bed. I turned on the bathroom light so that it would light up the hallway for him when he came in. As I was trying to get back to sleep, in that state in between dream and reality, I heard Liz moaning and groaning her way through a nightmare. I also heard the bump and scrape of Chris making his way into the apartment. I hollered, "It sounds like Liz is having a nightmare. Take care of it." I heard no word from Chris so I opened my eyes and looked to my open bedroom door, where instead of seeing Chris, I saw the outline of a strange woman with jet black hair. I was completely flabbergasted as my mind tried to account for what my eyes were telling it, perhaps thinking that "the Grudge" had come to my apartment as I knew that I wasn't asleep and thus dreaming. I heard a strangely recognizable whimper from the creature, at which point I said, "Julia?"
In the spring of 2003, I'd flown my brother out to live with me. Wyman, as many of you well know, is eight years older than me and was thirty two at the time. During the course of his eight month stay, he acquired a seventeen- year- old, German girlfriend, Julia. I didn't really know Julia all that well as she was fairly shy, and seemed to serve as no more than an ornament on my couch whenever I'd stroll through the living room where she and Wyman were watching a movie. After Wyman returned to the States, I was in the field preparing for Iraq for the better part of three months and then I went on Christmas leave back to SC.
When I came back, in the time when I was getting my affairs in order (ie drinking like a fish with Liz and Chris), Julia called me out of the blue. She wanted to see me before I went off to war. Now, I found that a bit odd, as I'd really not spoken to Julia privately before, but I figured that if it were important to her, then there was no harm in accommodating her. I did drag Chris and Liz along with me though (Julia was to meet me in a pub) so as to give myself an exit. We chatted for a bit and, when I made my move to leave, she hugged me and whispered into my ear, "You are very smart, and very good-looking, and I hope you get a girlfriend you deserve." I was speechless.
During my year in Iraq, Wyman told me that Julia had gotten married to soldier, a sergeant in the Military Police, though he didn't see that working out since she'd told Wyman, "I don't want to have kids and I want to go out and party; he wants kids and to stay home…and he's not good in bed."
Earlier in the week, Julia's sister, Nadine, had stopped by to visit. I seen Nadine perhaps twice in my life and maybe had said five words to her total. Nonetheless, there she was at my door, lugging her two-month old baby up the four flights of stairs. I had one of the new officers staying with me for a few days at the time, since he too didn't have wheels yet, and I told him to pretend he was taking a nap in the living room so that she wouldn't stay too long. She didn't get the hint. We made polite, though forced conversation ("Ah, your baby has a forked tongue and webbed toes…He's really cute.") before I managed to shuttle the muder and kinder home, though not before she fed him in my apartment (I thought she was going to whip it out, but, Praise Jesus, she had a bottle). Nadine had said that Julia wanted to stop by and visit and asked me what I was doing that weekend. I told her that I wasn't sure what my plans were and I didn't offer my phone number. I'd hoped that would be the end of it.
At any rate, there was Julia, A SOLDIER'S WIFE, standing in my bedroom doorway at midnight. I threw on my shorts and went up to her. She reeked of German cigarette smoke, alcohol and trouble. I could see that it was a miracle that she was still managing to stand. She raised her drooped head up and peered at me through her half- shut eyes. She hugged me before I knew what was happening and said, "You're skinny (I lost 20 to 30lbs during my year in Iraq). I like you better bigger…I need to use the bathroom." She stumbled off to the bathroom. I scuttled over to my room and typed a message on my phone to Chris, telling him that my brother's 19y.o. ex girlfriend had just shown up in my apartment. She came out of the bathroom and wanted to hug again, which I deftly sidestepped.
"Julia, it's good to see you, but it's midnight; why don't I get you a taxi? I'd drive, but I had a bit to drink tonight."
"No. I want to stay here."
"I don't think that would be a good idea Julia."
"Why not?"
"You're married Julia."
"What? I'm not going to do anything (she said as she started stroking my thigh). I just want to sleep next to you."
"I don't think that would be a good idea, Julia. Let me get you a taxi."
"What? I'm not going to do anything," she continued to plead, while she continued to stroke my thigh, at which point I reached down and grabbed her hand, "I just want to sleep next to you."
"No, Julia. I can get in trouble. Let's get a cab."
"You like men don't you? That's it. You like men."
Though my pride was quite wounded, I assured her that was not the case. I made my way to grab a jacket and she instantly stumbled over and collapsed on my bed. I came back in and tried to rouse her, but no dice. She wasn't moving. I was pretty sure that she was pretending to pass out so that I wouldn't have any choice but to let her sleep in my bed. I wasn't having it.
I rousted Liz, who, poor thing, couldn't make neither heads nor tails out of what I was saying for about twenty seconds. Then she thought I was joking.
"Liz, it's after midnight and I'm wearing a jacket. Trust me, this isn't a joke."
She got up, walked over, and her eyes bugged out a bit when she saw the inebriated German splayed out on my bed. We tried to wake her up, but she was sticking to the whole passed out thing. I called Wyman to get her address and phone number because I was putting her in a taxi, come hell or high water. As I was getting the information from him he added, "You know she had a crush on you." No @@#!
I picked her up and carried her over to the living room couch. As Liz and I tried to put her jacket back on her, Liz mentioned, "She's not wearing her wedding band." #@#!
I called her house and spoke to Nadine. "Oh, you're going to take care of her?"
"No, Nadine, I can't have her here. I'm putting her in a taxi."
"Oh, okay, we've been drinking a little bit. I'll wait up for her."
I managed to get Julia to admit to being conscious and we began the trip down the stairs. This was quite a chore because she was absolutely shnockered. She stopped at the first two landings to hug me. On the next four she cried and kept moaning about me being mad at her. Then she stopped, looked at me for a long moment and said, "Your hair is long (I'm growing it out for my impending release.). I like it better short. (Good to see you too, Julia)" Out of the window of one of the landings I saw a taxi pull up and Chris get out.
"Hold that Taxi!!!!!!!" I yelled.
Julia got angry about the taxi and started yelling, "Why is a taxi here? Who did you call? Who did you call?" She kept that up until the last flight of steps when she just kept moaning about the fact that I was mad at her.
"You're mad at me! You're mad at me! (ad infinitum)"
"No Julia, I'm not mad at you."
"You're mad at me! You're mad at me! (ad infinitum)"
Actually, the fact that I had to say that I wasn't mad, repeatedly, made me rather mad.
I lugged her out to the taxi, told the driver the address, overpaid him and chucked her in the car. The taxi driver gave me a nasty look, no doubt for corrupting such a sweet innocent German girl. It sped off into the night and I sat there a moment, in the 20 degree weather in a jacket, running shoes, and gym shorts, pondering what in the hell just happened.
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