I think I have told her a million times. Maybe five more. I can't recall.
We first thought about therapy after one huge blowout. Chinese food was the first round. The msg was throbbing in my tongue as I yelled about something. Funny now, sometime on, I don't remember for the life of me what it was. I remember raising my voice and staring at one of the many unpacked boxes in the room. We were eating on "HALLWAY CLOSET FRAGILE" and I think I spilled a trickle of soda on "BEDROOM MISC" but somehow we managed to fight.
It was the first night in the new apartment. Sunburned from the trip and overpacked with things we didn't need, our entry into the one bedroom dwelling was a letdown. No warm h'ors doevres, no welcome back sign. There were just boxes. The ratty sofa had survived the move. So did that annoying set of pillows. I wasn't pleased to get reacquainted with that dusty coffee table.
Maybe the temperature in the apartment was the jumping off point to fight time.It was July. I don't know. Somehow as hot as I remember it being, at this point light years away, I would give a finger or two if I could go back to that night. I didn't appreciate what we had when it was in full bloom. Neither did she. But that's okay. I was the first one, the one with the experience. People are my business, that's what I would say to her, getting out of the shower as I made a cocky judgment on someone we had just encountered. I should have thrown myself a penalty flag and given her the ball. She just wanted me to be happy. And I was. I just couldn't say it, for whatever reason. My mind was boiling. It was hot. Somehow I thought her old furniture would be renewed into brand new modern eames era stuff that would just rise up to hug us as we sat. instead it was the pukey sofa and the thrift armchair dressed in a parachute or something like it.
But I remember, as she yelled back at me, how cute and scrubbed her face was. The time away in the sun with green drinks and fruity fish entrees had eroded the city's pallor. She looked lovely. Fresh. Not even near thirty. And she was mad at me! That should have inspired me to write this ages ago. Someone cared enough to nag me! And I could yell back. No one got hit. I am sure it sounded like something out of a flophouse bum fight but it was jetlag and nerves.
After the flares subsided and we got into the next tubs of chinese food, rational talk began. I was sorry. She was sorry. No. its me. I am a southern guy who is used to living for four dollars a year, I said, I think. Well, I said something in the neighborhood of that. I mean, a pack of mostly oil, orange American cheese was almost six dollars at her grocery store down the block. This isn't about cheese, though. Or is it?

I mostly am just remembering that night. The aggression, its tiresome lurch and the way we made up and even probably had sex in spite of a sunburn and an ill made bed. I cannot recall. She was just lovely, though.  ¶ 8:26 PM