All day I was on pins and needles. Today was the day Max got home from the retreat, and everything was in order to surprise him. The loft was still clean from Saturday (I’d checked it last night), the CD-R, hard drive and windscreen I’d purchased for him were wrapped in ribbons, and he was going to pass out when he saw it all.

*goofy grin*

The day passed pretty quickly. Nothing worthwhile, except that I spent the majority of my day looking for a 6-foot SCSI cable, HD50P to HD25P. Okay, those are like the most specialty cables in existence. Had a bit of a hiccup with that - my dad went over to a store I thought carried them, and got the wrong thing. Not particularly his fault, since he had no idea what he was buying. More that the store clerk was an idiot.

Unfortunately, I’ve been so stressed out lately that I just needed something small to set me completely off. So I’m having a temper tantrum at my dad’s house… great. I end up completely ruining my evening with Justin. He kept asking me, “Are you in a bad mood or something?” When we got home from my parents’, he went into his room and closed the door. And I let him. My answer to his question had been, “Yes, and leave me alone.”

Nice. Great mom.

Max called me around 7:30pm, and I talked him into going to the loft. He made me promise that he’d be home and in bed by midnight, though, because he got on a real schedule at the retreat. Although that made me snicker and call him an old man, I said no problem.

Famous last words.

When we arrive, the Javier Mendoza Band (still minus Javi, who’s in Spain for another week or two) were rehearsing, so we ended up driving around. Drove by the Arch, Laclede’s Landing on the riverfront, through downtown, just chatting. Nothing horribly exciting.

Finally the guys leave the loft and we head upstairs. I’m about to jump out of my skin. I unlocked the door and let him in, and he walked in and stopped. He looked around. He seemed pretty amazed. Then he saw his new “toys” - he kept saying, “Cool…” I dragged him into the bathroom and around the place, showing him where his stuff is now (since it’s all organized and put away) and showing him the additions (like the stash of candy hidden behind the Fender guitar amp).

He said, “I almost feel guilty lighting a cigarette in here,” as he lit a cigarette. I laughed.

We sat down, and I felt it again. I’ve been having these moments of clarity regarding Max and an issue he has, but I’ve been trying to ignore them. God really started the whole thing snowballing when we were cleaning out his notebooks and consolidating his writings and lyrics. Then it just multiplied. And I felt like I was going to explode unless I told him what I saw.

I just hate that, though. Calling friends on their shit. I mean, I’m extremely grateful that he had enough courage to do it for me last Friday, because if he hadn’t I don’t know if I’d be writing this today. But it’s a different story when I’m faced with a friend. I guess it’s all residual baggage that I cart around with me. Having friends walk away, which hurt like hell and left lasting scars. So do you get real with your friends, and call them on their own shit? Or is that risking too much? Risking that they’ll say, “Screw you” and walk away from you? What is more important? Their growth or your own security?

So, I did it. I told him what I saw. I told him what I thought. I gave my newly-semi-well-educated opinion on matters that he’s been struggling with. And it wasn’t easy, dammit. He is a temperamental person (like me). He argues and disagrees loudly (like me). He’s got a nasty temper (like me). And he has the unmatched ability to break my heart, especially when he cries. Especially when I cause him to cry.

The subject we were discussing was tearing me up enough as it was. It was even harder to deal with it when he was tearful. But I had no choice but to continue, gently, with what it was I needed to tell him.

After a while the conversation turned to the retreat, and how he was treated. Well, overall, but I knew he would use this as a last attempt to be “loved” by the church, whom he adores. I knew any matter of things could tip the scales either way. And, dammit, they hurt him. Again. No one understand him, he says. He doesn’t fit in.

So he’s raging and yelling and venting, pacing and being frustrated, and I’m egging him on. Trying to show him how silly he was being. And he just wanted to vent. After a while, he was making me laugh, and it was hard to keep biting the inside of my mouth to keep it quiet. He was so righteously indignant, pouting like a little boy, wanting God with all his heart, and it made me so very, very happy.

He settled down in his desk chair and looked at me, and I burst out laughing. I went over and gave him a hug around his neck. I told him he was “my favorite.” He said, “yeah, you just like me because I’m screwed up.” Ha ha. I said, no, I like you because when I look at you I see a godly man (he snorts) who’s struggling and trying and wrestling and not giving up, no matter how frustrated he gets. And it gives me such hope. I kissed him on top of his streaky-haired head, and kept laughing. He grinned at me. And it was okay.

I giggled all the way home. Could be because it was 3am. I would make a joke and he would take me seriously. Like everyone else in my life right now. Because they are all used to me being serious and sad - unhappy. And I had to chide him out of it, and get him to laugh, too. I asked why everyone is so surprised I can be happy. I asked why they can’t accept it. He said, it’ll come. Hmph. Patience is not my strong suit.

All in all, a successful evening. A joyful one. I’m still struggling with the raw part of my emotions, but I refuse to give into despair, not when I have God on my side. Like Max and I always agree, this time it’s great to know the end of the story. Victory.

I am…

Amazing, (so says Max - because I can clean!)


mich