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5/15/2002

Here is the tale of the day that broke Boston for me, a tale that I’ll call:

The Day I Robbed a Bank for Quality Dental Care

or

May 15 came on the 13th this year.

So Monday was an epically bad day. The kind of day where I got hassled for my Harvard ID by someone who just likes to hassle people for their ID's. The kind of day where I was asked to do a job that isn't part of what I was hired to do and further this job directly countered a higher command. It was the kind of day that was supposed to be sunny and warm and then was depressingly cold and wet instead.

I took off early for a dental appointment too, but instead of going to the dentist right away I ended up taking a cab (in an ideal world a ca-ching sound would be here) to Simmons in the pouring wet cold so I could get there and discover that the hood I need for Sunday had been sold out. So then I had to take another cab to the dentist to make it on time, completely wasting $20.

My last $20, it turns out.

Because after the dentist was done fixing my cavities, I found out that I owed her for this visit ($50) *and* the last visit ($50) because my previous check to her had bounced. She was nice enough not to mention the bank fees.

So I had her my Visa, which to my knowledge had around $150 on it.

Nope.

So I leave my bags there, and run down the street in the pouring rain, all ready knowing what I'm going to do. I rob the instant teller of $150, cash.

I do this by falsifying a deposit; telling the machine I've put in money when I just put in an empty envelope.

With my name. With my card. And certainly on video tape.

Then I went back to Dr. Yu's, and handed the receptionist $100 cash. She scheduled my next two appointments for June, which will cost me over $600 total to fix my two front teeth. My front teeth have to be done before one of them dies, and I start to look like what I am: Really Fucking Poor.

So I'm walking home from the dentist in the pouring cold rain when I start to crack up. It's useless, I realize, to think that I can live here past August. I'd be so much more well off if I were in Atlanta. I've been making good money now for 3 months, and I'm still in the hole I dug for myself back in January. It wasn't a very deep hole, but I can't climb out of it.

I feel like I was born in a hole. And I'm walking through Brookline - fucking *Brookline* man, and there are all these toy stores and bakeries and restaurants and inside those places people are happy and warm with their families, eating and laughing and to them it doesn't matter that it's cold and raining. I just committed petty thievery to keep my teeth from falling out of my head. I see girls drinking $4 coffees.

By the time I get back to the apartment, I'm emotionally trashed. I stumble through the door and hide how crappy I feel because the first thing that I see is Aral, and she clearly still hasn't slept in a week. She's finishing her thesis and everyone we know is falling apart - Tasha's broken up with a psycho stalker, another friend of hers has broken up with her fiancé just weeks before the wedding and there are a hundred other dramas all around her. Not to mention the fact that she’s down to the wire on her deadline for the thesis, and her advisor told her she wanted to strangle her today.

I keep it together for about 30 minutes while we discuss all the bad things that have happened in the past week.

And then I just kind of loose it. Not big sobbing loose it, because I really don't do that, but quiet leaky sort of loose it. And I tell Aral I know I can't do this anymore, this Boston thing, because the prices on food and rent are killing me. If this were the south, I'd be doing OK, because my rent wouldn't be $650 a month and my food bill would be about 25% less. I can't do this. I've tried and tried. I've been working my ass off since January, and nothing works. I haven't got a family to back me up, and so I'm screwed. I have friends, and thank god, because without them I would have given up back in March.

But it's almost June now, and I know I can't do it. It's just all too much. And I’m having a quiet little breakdown right there on the couch.

And Aral takes a deep breath and says: I don't think you should make any life decisions right now. I haven't slept for a week and I know I'm not making any decisions that will change my life. You're so stressed and you've had a crappy day so just - wait - OK? Think about it some more. Just. Don't. DO. Anything. Else. Tonight. We'll sit down and eat some cookies and watch Angel.

Yeah, I say, and then go get the special cookies from a friend in Tennessee from my room.

Aral claps her hands in delight, but then I remember something.

I have to return the videos first.

How much is the late fee?

A lot. $3 a rental, so $6. I start pulling on my jacket.

You're not going anywhere else tonight. Just sit down for a few minutes.

Nope, gotta return the videos. It's just five blocks.

It's raining.

Hence my umbrella.

You sit down, she says, and grabs for me.

I dance just out of reach. Uh-uh. Returning the videos.

Then, like a flash, Aral grabs the videos and my cookies and runs into the bathroom, slamming the door and startling the cat, who was at his dinner there.

Aral! Come ON, man!

NO! I'm paying the late fee and you're sitting down on the couch!

No, man, come ON, It's not that far and they're due.

NO! I've got the videos, and cookies, and the cat, and I can stay in this bathroom FOREVER!

At that point I fall down - I mean I hit the goddamn floor, and I'm laughing so hard that I've curled up into a fetal position and my fist is pounding the floor. Aral's laughing too. We're both like that, we laugh when we're really, really stressed out. We laugh when stressed and tired, it's a weird thing that some people do instead of crying, but then I'm laughing so hard I'm crying too because everything is so goddamn hard and I love it here, I love this apartment and living with Aral and Mr. Puck. And it's been the worst day, and I realize then that the cops aren't going to arrest me for $150 I took from the bank in my own name. It's just like a bounced check.

and when I can breathe again, I say, come on out, Aral.

NO! You want me to tell you how it's going to go? It's going to go like this. I'm going to come out of this bathroom, and you're going to have that coat off, and you'll sit down on that couch and we're both going to eat some of these delicious cookies and chill the hell out. There’s beer in the fridge, so get one of those. OK?

OK. I hang up my coat and sit down and Aral comes out of the bathroom and says: I can’t believe that worked.

But it did, I’m all calm now, and sitting on the couch, but for the next hour or so we keep cracking up in laughter because everything is just so goddamn horrible. Aral’s had just as many bad days lately as I have, and neither of us can believe it. We fall on each other laughing, and once the phone rings and against all better judgment I pick it up and thank god it’s Dustin. And I’m laughing and crying so much trying to tell him that I’m OK that I have to hand the phone to Aral while I’m on the floor consumed by giggles.

And eventually we laugh ourselves out, watch some pretty good television, and end up just calling it a night early, and turning in. Because when things are that bad, what else are you going to do?