Why, you ask? Oh, let me count the ways. The plan was to get an oil leak repaired on my car. I have a friend who has a hook-up so I go to a neighboring town and friend up with her in order to get repairs on the low. (Why am I street slang gangsta chick all of a sudden???)
Let me preface the story by saying….this friend is not all that close of a friend. She used to be so I’m not being mean, but in getting to know her better she became one of those friends you start slowly, silently backing away from so as not to startle.
She always has some kind of drama going on. A grown woman who never has money and never has a problem asking for a little handout. Coincidentally, she’s Bean’s mother. He also does not have a relationship with her. But remember that kid that turned out not to be his? She still claims it as her grandchild – even with other family members. Outside of myself, the actual mother, and Bean she’s kept the secret to herself.
Her one good quality is that she was always a big fan of me and Bean being together. She knew what I could offer him and she always hoped he would act right. So she’s got some good sense somewhere, but keep your distance.
Ok, let’s just boil it all down. Go up at lunch time with the plan of meeting with said friend, eating lunch, dropping off my car, going to get whatever part the mechanic says I need, having it replaced and heading back home by late afternoon oil-leak free.
Did this happen? Well shucks, no.
Get to my friend’s house and she’s in her pajamas packing 5 boxes because she signs the lease on a new place that day, so naturally it’s a good plan to carry with her 5 boxes of the most random, unuseful kitchen things she can find (i.e. bread box….glass serveware of her great-grandmother’s….alcoholic paraphernalia – shakers, shot glasses…..serving platters) to drop off.
A little double take as I enter her place to find her in shambles, packing. WTH?
An hour or two later, after she puts one more thing in a box and spends the rest of the time sitting and updating me on the latest life drama she finally gets dressed so we can go for lunch. Bean’s younger brother (15 years old) is with us.
On the way to lunch the mechanic calls to say they’re slow and asks if I can bring the car soon. Absolutely. So slight change of plans, we head to there and after dropping off the car, we’re on our way to grab some lunch. Aside from the 2-hour delay, we’re chugging right along with the plan.
Lunch over, mechanic still hasn’t called so my friend decides she wants to go shop at the local Habitat for Humanity store. Walking through the store her 15-year-old son rests his arm on my shoulder a la arm rest because I’m short and ha, ha that makes it funny. He’s a good kid so I let him have his fun. Whatever.
We’re wandering the store like two awkwardly mismatched Siamese twins and at a certain point his hand grazes the top of my breast. He’s a good kid though – and he’s 15! – so I let this pass telling myself it was most definitely an accident. You may be hearing the Twilight Zone theme song gearing up about right now and if so, you would be correct.
His mother is still roaming the store so he points to an area across the store we haven’t been yet and suggests we stroll over there to kill the time. I agree because I’ve got to be the most naive 33-year-old on the planet. I didn’t even think twice about it. He’s a good kid!
As we walk down an aisle with doors on either side of us this “good” kid suddenly reaches down and grabs a big, honking handful of my left breast, then quickly reaches around for a butt grab.
“(His name)!!!! What the….?!?! What are you do…?!?!? Don’t ever do that again!! What the…!!!” My mind is spinning and I can’t gather words quickly enough to tell him no and let him know this was unacceptable.
“PLEASE?!?!?!?” My brain possibly exploded at this point.
“WHAT?!?!?!? NO!!!!!! Don’t ever do that again!!! I can get arrested behind stuff like that! Are you kidding me?!?!?” I begin walking back towards the front of the store.
“I’m sorry, Crystal. Please don’t tell my mom. I’m really sorry. I’m just at that age.” He’s just at that age, people!!!!
I end up giving him a big piece of my mind but I agree not to tell his mother, which in hindsight was probably a mistake. During all this Twilight Zone fun the mechanic calls my friend to tell her he can’t tell where the leak is coming from so he’s cleaned it and wants me to bring it back next week. Great.
Leaving the store my friend tells me she wants me to see her new house before I go home. I ask her how long she’s gonna be there (because I’m really ready to go) and she promises me it’ll be about an hour. This is at 4:30 in the afternoon. She’s supposed to meet the woman there between 5 and 5:30 she tells me. I agree to leave my car behind and ride with her so off we go to at least pick up my keys.
Before we leave completely my friend stops to have a scratch buffed off the top of her car. I should’ve bailed then but apparently I’m not as smart as I’ve given myself credit for all these years.
During the time her car is being buffed the 15 year old apologizes once again. I almost believe him. Then he asks, if he would’ve asked me for permission first would I have let him. Seriously.
After the buff job on the car, we head off to the new house. Oh, surprise! We don’t meet the owner between 5 and 5:30 after all! The appointment is an hour later! So yay! We get to go sit in a car and eat an ice cream to wait. I get a little frustrated but I think the shock of what happened earlier is numbing my responses because I say nothing.
Finally we make it to the house. We chat with the owners, I get a little tour of the place. It’s time to sit down and sign the lease. I am not exaggerating in the slightest when I tell you it takes my friend at least a full 45 minutes to make out the check she has to pay, read over the one solitary paragraph of her lease, and sign it. This is because she apparently can’t write and talk at the same time, or write and listen for that matter, so she writes the name then stops to tell a “grandbaby” story. Then she writes the amount and stops to tell a dog story. Then she writes the amount out in words and stops…. you get the picture.
She has to stop in the middle of reading the lease to answer a phone call then she spends an extra 5 minutes with her head in her hands because she forgot she’d made plans for dinner with the friend who called and she’s not hungry.
The only thing stopping me from saying something is that I know after this blessed lease is signed we can leave. Oh it’s comical now because little did I know….
After reading the lease – but before signing of course – she stops to call the friend back and tell her how she’d forgotten and asks if they still want to meet. I’m glancing down at myself to make sure I’m still actually visible as she appears to not be seeing me anymore. Yep, I’m still there.
Off the phone once again, Hallelujah! Angels are heralding because the lease is signed, the check is written out, and my release is near. She asks her son to go get the boxes and just because I’m thoughtful like that, I go help him.
When we get back inside my friend has changed back into those pajamas from earlier. Wait, whaaa?
The owners are leaving to go get some last minute things for the house and even though it’s been about 2 hours already at this point, my friend has made plans to unpack those 5 boxes of ridiculous and asked the lady who called to come on down for a peeksie-poo at the new house. I am seconds away from body slamming myself into the nearest wall in protest.
The next few hours are spent sitting at a table with this other lady and the now two boys, watching my friend cut out plastic to line the kitchen cabinets, then unpack these boxes of completely pointless crap. Each piece is individually wrapped and she is saving both the boxes and the newspaper to use for the next round, so this was obviously a quick process.
I alternate my time between talking myself out of bashing my head into the table and poking my eyeballs and/or ear drums out for entertainment. There is nothing for me to do. I don’t have my Kindle. My phone doesn’t have any cool games to play nor does it have a built-in taser I can use to incapacitate my friend and steal her car. No one’s really talking. It’s getting late, I’m getting tired. Because she is Bean’s mom and because I have always in the past texted with or seen him while I was up there, I can’t get him out of my head and it’s not like I have a distraction. This is pure torture for me. My ADD is acting a fool.
At some point some of her family stops by so she stops unpacking to give them a tour and chit chat the night away.
By the time we leave….remember earlier it was 4:30 and she said an hour, right? We finally begin leaving at about 5 minutes to 10. Yes, 10:00. As in PM.
Stupidly enough I didn’t realize “leaving” was an actual process so we don’t get outside the house and into her car until almost 10:30. It’s 11 before we make it to my car and she even manages a straight face when she tells me she didn’t realize the time. Apparently the dark outside wasn’t enough of a clue.
Pulling up to my car she asks if I want to spend the night. Um, no. Thanks. Really, thanks.
I get out and her still 15-year-old son comes around the car to switch seats. He offers me a side hug and because he’s been on relatively good behavior I’m once again naive enough to believe this is innocent and give him a hug.
He takes the opportunity to look down my shirt and offer up, ‘Damn, those tits.’ Charming.
Needless to say I push him off me and I leave before I punch him in the throat.
Facepalm Saturday, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to my world.