News Of The Day: The Screaming Hasn’t Stopped. The Screaming Hasn’t Stopped.

It’s Thursday morning; 12:01 a.m., July 14; the screaming hasn’t stopped. The anger has not subsided. The outrage continues. What makes me feel this way? It’s love baby; it’s love.

I call my rabbi at approximately 12:22 a.m. and tell him what has happened. Thankfully, he’s still awake, just doing his laundry. I knew he would still be awake even at this hour. Rabbis never sleep; they just study the hours away.

I eventually fall asleep at 1 a.m. yet I wonder what real sleep is like. I get only 3 hours & 45 minutes worth. I am in a zombie-like state, get up & pour myself a bowl of generic corn flakes and soy milk & listen as the clock radio comes on automatically at 5:30 a.m.

I hop into the shower thinking about everything that transpired over the last six hours. It kills me to think that all this time it was something that I seminally expected to happen all along when my new “love” interest told me she had something to tell me nearly a month ago after meeting her.

I started to think about what it could be. I thought long and hard. Perhaps she was a victim of a brutal assault; or maybe it was a violent drug episode; or maybe she was dying from something she couldn’t control herself, like say an addiction. I knew one thing for certain; that I had to be strong for whatever it was that she was going to tell me.

The last few weeks seemed to have been going good for us. Just hanging out, going to the theater, getting to know and bond with her teenage daughter from a prior marriage. But it was still eating at me & I wanted to know what this mystery was, so I kept on her to spill her guts.

We had tickets to the theater last night, Wednesday, July 13; a musical production, opening night. At dinner she asked me to make her a promise; she asked me to remain friends with her in the event that whatever happens between us doesn’t exactly remain the same. So I promise. Before she spills the beans, I told her previously that I would stand by her no matter what.

Dinner was good. The champagne was good. The dessert was good. The musical was magnificent! It was easy to spot how great it was, as my date’s eyes were sparkling and shimmering with excitement; her mouth silently singing the songs in syncopated time and rhythm, squeezing my hand from time to time for comfort and assurance.

We talked on the way out of the theater and on the drive home. She asked me what album I’d like to hear. I chose the Beatles’ White Album, disc one. I tried keeping up a conversation, but I knew the time was getting closer when the moments moved faster. I sang most of the lyrics and pointed out track sequence and also historical facts about the album with nearly every song.

By the time we got back to her place, my favorite song came on; Ringo Starr’s Don’t Pass Me By; a blues song he had written in 1963, but didn’t get around to being recorded until 1968. I sang the song with full gusto, looking at her directly while singing it. When the song was finished, she turned it off and so the story of her life began.

Earlier in the day at work, I felt kind of weird. Had a tingly feeling shoot through my arms. The same kind of tingly feeling I had whence I had asked someone out nearly 13 years ago. Felt butterflies in my stomach that was already for the most part knotted up. I ended up falling in love with that woman too. It was at that time, my first real love of my life. That courtship lasted on & off for two years, but of course she broke it off. Says she was in love with me emotionally, not physically. Broke my heart.

That same feeling crept back up when she started to tell her story. There was someone else; a longtime romance that has smoldered into a four-year affair with a married man that she's known for 20 years, whom she just can’t seem to get out of her mind. I was crushed. Devastated. I cried. Broke my heart. She said she wouldn’t know if or when she would ever leave it behind.

There were some other things that were said, but much of it was a blur to me. I told her I would pray for her; get my friends to pray for her to get over it. She thanked me. I kissed her, still not wanting it to end. Hugged her tightly in the street and watched her go in to her apartment. I walked over to my car, unlocked it, opened the driver’s door, got in & started the engine, flipped on the air conditioner.

That’s when the screaming started.

Late afternoon now, 5:15 p.m.

Don’t know how I got through work today. I had so many plans for her & me, now I don’t. They are crushed, smashed to bits. It’s a fucking emotional ransom note on both sides. As far as I’m concerned, she’s still a victim being held by victim of circumstance that might never come to past. And I feel victimized by the victim holding the victim at bay by not saying goodbye.

When I spoke to her this morning, I told her I was hurting, just hurting. She apologized many times and didn’t intend for it to happen. I said nothing, just remained motionless on the phone. She was in a car wreck, this morning on the way to work. I said I was glad she was alright. She said thanks, yet it reminded me of September 11, 2004, another fateful day in my personal history.

She wasn’t hurt, but I still was.

What the heck do I do now? Do I help her out with her addiction or do I just take care of myself? Do I help her work past the differences or do I just say goodbye Mr. Chips? Do I pack up and go or do I just stand by and watch her suffer for the rest of her days on earth?

The screaming hasn’t stopped. The anger has not subsided. The outrage continues. What makes me feel this way? The screaming hasn’t stopped. The anger has not subsided. The outrage continues. What makes me feel this way? The screaming hasn’t stopped. The screaming hasn’t stopped. The anger has not subsided. The outrage continues. What makes me feel this way? The screaming hasn’t stopped. The anger has not subsided. The outrage continues. What makes me feel this way?

It’s love baby; it’s love. It’s love baby; it’s love. It’s love baby; it’s love. It’s love baby; it’s love.