I love Tina Turner–her music, her talent, her story, her strength in the face of so much that challenged it, her ability to craft and embrace her stage personality while always knowing and being who she really is off stage. No matter the depths of her sadness and despair. No matter her self doubts. No matter what. She was–is–one of my heroines. Maybe she will read this post and know it. I can only dream.
Before I thought about Tina Turner tonight, I took my dog down to the beach tonight for two reasons: to see the ocean and have her enjoy it with me. And to possibly see a boy I kind of like, and who I think kind of likes me. Except he couldn’t see me tonight, even though I was still dressed in my cute outfit from work. He couldn’t see me because he was so busy getting other work done in order to be able to take time to see me later this week. Too bad, I thought. You better be good to me, I hummed in my head.
After a day of phone calls from home that sent me into the black hole that ultimately led me to this place to live; after the girl I had filled in for months at work returned–and as happy as that made me, the day left me feeling at loose ends; after the boy was too busy to see me, it was just another day. And as can happen, the curve ball was tossed my way, and I ran into my only girlfriend here, almost literally, as I turned the corner to drive toward home from the beach.
We saw each other, she drink in hand on the sidewalk, me dog in tow in the front seat of my car. She waved. I stopped to chat. “Have a drink with us,” she laughed. I parked and shoved three hours’ worth of quarters into the public lot’s machine, even though I only intended to spend an hour there. But you never know. Right?
My dog was the hit, the focus, the magnet. We took pictures of her everywhere at this outdoor bar. The people in the bar regaled her, loved her, sought me out to tell me so. And she was so cool with it all. So cool. I was surprised and amazed by my dog. Today, I bonded for real with my dog. Because I knew how I better be good to her.
“You are different, you know,” said one gentleman at the outdoor place. And I knew what he meant, and then I wondered how much that mattered, especially down here.
“I would marry her tomorrow, but she says I have to wait a thousand years,” commented someone about me, whom I knew already. Yeah. I am so sorry for that.
Better be good to me.
“Where are you?” asked the boy who kind of likes me, when he called tonight.
“Just around the corner from you,” I told him.
But he was still busy getting ready to see me a few days from now and couldn’t meet up on this night, even though I was just around the corner. My dog was tired, but still awesome. My friend was drunk, but my other friend whom I will not marry for a thousand years said he would drive her home.
When I write the screenplay for this movie, there will be a recurring scene–tears dropping singly, one after the other, onto the lenses of my reading glasses as I write at my computer.
You better be good to me.