Chapter 52
Having Lacey at my house is amazing.
It is, in a single word, normal. I think that we both could use a dose of normalcy in our lives. We sat at a real dinner table and ate marinated flank steak, Caesar salad and garlic mashed potatoes.
How is your steak?
She just looks up at me and she smiles.
It's SO good. It's perfect.
I think to myself that, yeah, this is pretty dang good. Nice meal, beautiful woman and for the first time in a long time I am sober.
When is it all going to come crashing down around me...
That is the hardest part for me to get over. I have self-destructed so many times in my life that I constantly live in fear of messing it all up again. I know that this is one of the main things I want to work on in my life. I don't want to continue living in fear of failure.
Especially not tonight.
After I have cleared all of the dinner plates I am in a mood for a night time stroll in Northwest Portland. Starbucks is calling. Lacey is game and we head out into the night.
It is a clear night and it isn't too cold at all. It isn't raining and for late March that is a miracle in Portland. We decide to sit on my front porch steps and have a smoke first. We talk about rehab and how weird it is to be out. Lacey has only been out for one day. I can't get over how great it feels to be talking and laughing with her outside of the comedy courtyard. Her laugh warms my broken heart and in a million years I could never see her as a heroin addict.
Beautiful. She is beautiful.
How 'bout some coffee? Some REAL coffee.
That smile tells me she is right there with me.
We take the walk down Everett to 23rd. I walk on the street side because my Dad taught me that is what a gentleman always does. I feel like a 12 year old when I cautiously reach down to hold her hand.
It fits.
Her small little hand just seems to fit inside mine.
We walk in silence, holding hands. It is a slow stroll but inside my mind our arms are swinging and we are skipping down 23rd like 6th graders who are "going together". Starbucks comes upon us far too quickly. I could walk like this for hours.
I open the door for Lacey and we enter Starbucks, both of us pausing to take in the fragrance of real coffee. My life is starting to be all about the little things.
We order heavily caffeinated beverages and walk outside. Nothing like another cigarette to go with fresh coffee. We sit outside and laugh at the bikers that come to this Starbucks. It is a mix of biker types. The Harley riders are fine by me. It is the crotch rocket guys that make me laugh like it's going out of style. Guys that wear leather jumpsuits that match the color of their bikes.
That means guys in banana yellow leather.
I don't know what it is about this Starbucks on 23rd but it draws them in. All their bikes lined up in a row.
The Fast and the Furiously caffeinated.
We finish our smokes and I want to go and pick up some desserts at Papa Haydn. This place is amazing. As far as dessert goes, there is no better place I know. I just love the fact the place is named after an 18th century composer named Joseph Haydn from Vienna.
I always try and support music any way that I can and dessert is no exception to the rule.
There is always a crowd outside of this place. It has a wonderful atmosphere and I have always told myself I will actually have dinner here at some point. I always just come in for the dessert. There just is no better feeling than standing in front of the glass case at Papa Haydn.
The desserts are works of art.
We get three of them to go.
I choose the Boccone Dolce. Simply put this Swiss meringue is heavenly. The name in Italian means "Sweet Mouthful". In Stevetalian it means "Stuff your face with this".
Lacey gets a Raspberry Gateau and I have to also get some Chocolate Mousse to make the evening complete.
We head back to the house and I just am thinking that this has been such a great night already. I haven't really been on a date for a long time. I had been through the Krista wringer for so many years that I forgot how exciting a first date can be.
I start a fire back at the house and we sit and eat these wonderful desserts in the warmth of each others company. It is nice. Lacey has wanted to hear me play and I have really wanted to let her, so I break out my guitar and sing.
It is a very nice evening.
Lacey is living at her parents house until she gets back on her feet. Her and her son. She doesn't stay too late because she has to get home before her parents worry. We put our parents through hell.
That is one thing that I understand now.
I walk her to the door and we say our goodbye.
I smile as she gets in her car and drives away.
The house is once again silent and I only wish that she could stay longer. I sit down alone by the fire and pick up my guitar. I sit and I play and the melody fills the house and fills my soul.
It is, in a single word, normal. I think that we both could use a dose of normalcy in our lives. We sat at a real dinner table and ate marinated flank steak, Caesar salad and garlic mashed potatoes.
How is your steak?
She just looks up at me and she smiles.
It's SO good. It's perfect.
I think to myself that, yeah, this is pretty dang good. Nice meal, beautiful woman and for the first time in a long time I am sober.
When is it all going to come crashing down around me...
That is the hardest part for me to get over. I have self-destructed so many times in my life that I constantly live in fear of messing it all up again. I know that this is one of the main things I want to work on in my life. I don't want to continue living in fear of failure.
Especially not tonight.
After I have cleared all of the dinner plates I am in a mood for a night time stroll in Northwest Portland. Starbucks is calling. Lacey is game and we head out into the night.
It is a clear night and it isn't too cold at all. It isn't raining and for late March that is a miracle in Portland. We decide to sit on my front porch steps and have a smoke first. We talk about rehab and how weird it is to be out. Lacey has only been out for one day. I can't get over how great it feels to be talking and laughing with her outside of the comedy courtyard. Her laugh warms my broken heart and in a million years I could never see her as a heroin addict.
Beautiful. She is beautiful.
How 'bout some coffee? Some REAL coffee.
That smile tells me she is right there with me.
We take the walk down Everett to 23rd. I walk on the street side because my Dad taught me that is what a gentleman always does. I feel like a 12 year old when I cautiously reach down to hold her hand.
It fits.
Her small little hand just seems to fit inside mine.
We walk in silence, holding hands. It is a slow stroll but inside my mind our arms are swinging and we are skipping down 23rd like 6th graders who are "going together". Starbucks comes upon us far too quickly. I could walk like this for hours.
I open the door for Lacey and we enter Starbucks, both of us pausing to take in the fragrance of real coffee. My life is starting to be all about the little things.
We order heavily caffeinated beverages and walk outside. Nothing like another cigarette to go with fresh coffee. We sit outside and laugh at the bikers that come to this Starbucks. It is a mix of biker types. The Harley riders are fine by me. It is the crotch rocket guys that make me laugh like it's going out of style. Guys that wear leather jumpsuits that match the color of their bikes.
That means guys in banana yellow leather.
I don't know what it is about this Starbucks on 23rd but it draws them in. All their bikes lined up in a row.
The Fast and the Furiously caffeinated.
We finish our smokes and I want to go and pick up some desserts at Papa Haydn. This place is amazing. As far as dessert goes, there is no better place I know. I just love the fact the place is named after an 18th century composer named Joseph Haydn from Vienna.
I always try and support music any way that I can and dessert is no exception to the rule.
There is always a crowd outside of this place. It has a wonderful atmosphere and I have always told myself I will actually have dinner here at some point. I always just come in for the dessert. There just is no better feeling than standing in front of the glass case at Papa Haydn.
The desserts are works of art.
We get three of them to go.
I choose the Boccone Dolce. Simply put this Swiss meringue is heavenly. The name in Italian means "Sweet Mouthful". In Stevetalian it means "Stuff your face with this".
Lacey gets a Raspberry Gateau and I have to also get some Chocolate Mousse to make the evening complete.
We head back to the house and I just am thinking that this has been such a great night already. I haven't really been on a date for a long time. I had been through the Krista wringer for so many years that I forgot how exciting a first date can be.
I start a fire back at the house and we sit and eat these wonderful desserts in the warmth of each others company. It is nice. Lacey has wanted to hear me play and I have really wanted to let her, so I break out my guitar and sing.
It is a very nice evening.
Lacey is living at her parents house until she gets back on her feet. Her and her son. She doesn't stay too late because she has to get home before her parents worry. We put our parents through hell.
That is one thing that I understand now.
I walk her to the door and we say our goodbye.
I smile as she gets in her car and drives away.
The house is once again silent and I only wish that she could stay longer. I sit down alone by the fire and pick up my guitar. I sit and I play and the melody fills the house and fills my soul.
posted by steve at 9:53 AM
6 Comments:
It is 100% my Autobiography Dent.
i couldn't help laughing at your mention of the 'crotch-rocket boys' in their power ranger outfits. you wouldn't believe the obnoxiously high-maintenance and labor-intensive drinks they invented for us poor baristas to bust out for them.
i used to parallel park between their bikes to freak them out. it always made me laugh out loud to slide between their precious machines and watch the horror on their chauvinistic faces as a chick pulled off what few of them might dare themselves. ah, what satisfaction! you're right - it really *is* all about the little things.
ahhh - new love. Little else compares. The love of our Lord and the love for a child are the only things to me.
ok. I haven't even finished this chapter yet but I'm laughing so hard because....you're describing my now ex husband and his cronies on the crotch rockets....HAHAHA
You rock!! Thanks, Caron
"Stevetalian" made me laugh and your menu for the evening is making me hungry, even at 8:30 in the morning!
:-)
I love this chapter because it's happy and normal and like when you're freezing cold and jump into bed and the electric blanket was turned on 30 minutes ago and you're still a little chilly but you revel in the radiating warmth.
(Or like when I put my popsicle toes on hubby's tummy!)
"I don't want to continue living in fear of failure"
That is the hard thing about starting something - the possibility of failure, or worse, the KNOWING that you are going to fail.
I fail so often at so many things, each time I have to remind myself that life is like that, it is a struggle, and that is why I need Jesus. He understands my weakness, and in my weakness he is made strong. I get that, but I still don't like to fail.
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