Playing dressups

Playing Dressups

The night before, we had argued. We had argued because he had consumed two bottles of red wine and anything else that he could find the dredges of, which would be almost zilch because he always finished everything off. Anyway – I’m not a huge drinker and not during the week to the point where I wouldn’t be able to get up for work. This guy used to drive to work, still drunk, the next day. I often used to find him slumped over his steering wheel, car jacked up half on the curb and lawn or driveway and curb, the lights and radio still blaring. The drivers’ door askew and one leg hanging out. Like it’s the thought that counts…he thought he could get home, get inside the house…ridiculous. So this was why I was mad.

Anyway, as you do, I couldn’t sleep and lay in our bed wondering how the hell did I get here and how the hell I was going to extricate myself from it all. It must’ve been close to 4 am and I hear his car bumble into the driveway and something inside me wished he’d just stay in that car tonight, I was still pissed at the whole uncaring scenario. Alcoholics tend to not give a shit – like just about every other addict addicted to something more important than you.

I can hear him scrabbling around with his keys and I hear him talking nonsense to the cat and rummaging in the fridge. I make sure my back is turned as I just cannot face an argument with an illogical, loud, irrational drunk. He comes into our bedroom. I can hear him undressing and I lie quietly – trying to make my breathing sound even and as if I’m well asleep. He’s struggling to get his pants off and falls around the room, cursing and bumping into things and then collapses onto the bed, snoring.

I pluck feebly at the bed blankets he’s trapping underneath his comatose body. I lie there trying to figure out how I’m going to breathe for the next while, till I have to get up for work, as the room is turning into an alcoholic gas chamber. I only have to wonder about this for an hour and then I will have to get up to open the restaurant for breakfast. I can’t stand it so I get up. I decide to have shower to shake off the sleepless night. We have an en suite and I find my way there in the dark and turn the light on on the inside of the wall. A faint beam streams out, highlighting the bedroom as I turn to close the door behind me. In the moment the light poured itself briefly over my sleeping partner, I noticed something strange. All I could see were maybe two dark lines down his back – up to where the covers hid the rest of his body – from the sort of elbow area down. He’s lying on his stomach and is snoring facing the other way.

I gently open the door a little wider so that more light can try and identify what I am not sure I am seeing. I tentatively take a step back into the bedroom, squinting in the shadowy room. I keep going towards the bed and stand there looking at him. If you had been recording it, it would’ve looked like something out of those spooky paranormal movies. I was trying to figure out what he was wearing. I lean forward and carefully pull the sheets back to expose more of his body.

I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, scream or punch him. He was wearing a petticoat, with little string straps and a lacy trim. I was like, what the fuck!! I was in shock – I tell you, there is nothing like finding your man dressed up in women’s lingerie to wake you the fuck up out of your grumbling stupor of a morning.

His name just fell loudly out of my face and I was still clutching the tented bedclothes above him. His drunken scrunched up face dug itself deeper in the pillow and an arm came out to grab the blankets back.

“I like it! It’s nothing!” He slurred and promptly fell back into his drunken slumber. Well, I’m sorry, but I have nothing against anyone doing things that are consensual and don’t hurt anyone, but I do want to be the only one in the lingerie!

We spoke about it and he denied, denied, denied. It was crazy – I mean, I saw him! Needless to say as I like my men all man, I left and we have stayed friends. Interestingly enough his next girlfriend contacted me in a very distressed state to say that she thought he was cheating as she had found a suitcase of women’s lingerie, stockings and high heel shoes in the boot of his car when she had borrowed it one day. If only that were the case.

It was strange because after the initial shock and insulted type of feeling I had, I felt sorry for him…I realized that maybe he drank so heavily as he was trying to run away from who he needed to be. It may not be who you want to be, but it will be who you are…

Autumn Shuffle

end_of_summer_by_leonid_afremov_by_leonidafremov-d35gm8r

The smell in the air

has changed –

it’s more crisp

it’s more clear

but the sun steps up the day

still grateful when a breeze will play

with your hair

on your skin

the rays tan

a tanned shin

And evening strolls in with a quiet surprise

promising a summer’s eve but making it a lie

There’s still green in abundance

but a yellow starts to show

on the leaves further down

on the branches hanging low

And I wrap my blankets closer

as night saunters in

But I glow warmly in the dark –

it’s the sunburn on my shin

© Kait King, 2016

Born out of love 

Jay hand feeding the seagulls at Manly Beach June 2016.jpg

Jay hand feeding the seagulls at Manly Beach – 9th June 2016

Last night my son, Jay, called from Australia. I love hearing from him and since he’s been away I’ve thought alot on how we battled along when he was young.

I was pretty much a single mum. Of course I had men in my life. I was easy on the eye so naturally men drifted around the proverbial honey-pot. At one point I was working three jobs and still picking Jay up from school and being a full-time mum. I went to a women’s gym and learned wrestling and kick-boxing. Jay would come with me to the gym. He loved it – all of the women cooed over him, played with him and taught him some moves which he promptly practiced on his mates at school and got into trouble for.

I had a nanny job from 3 pm till 7 pm during the week which Jay could also come to. The little boy I was looking after was the same age as Jay and they had a great time playing while I cleaned up the house, chucked a wash on and got dinner sorted before we started some homework which meant Jay got his done too. So like all single mums I juggled. I had a house cleaning job during the day before school ended and also was selling international phone time and signing people up for cheaper international calls. I look back and wonder where on earth did I get all of that energy from? Like a little energizer batteried bunny I just kept going and going and going. My parents were not here in NZ at the time and Jay’s father just seemed to forget about him. Both of his parents were dead, he was a fair bit older than me and had already experienced this loss, therefor Jay didn’t have fraternal grandparents and his maternal ones were in South Africa – a million miles away. So I had no family here and therefore no baby-sitters. I couldn’t afford to pay someone and have money to go out as well.

My main focus was to make sure our home was of a particular standard and that we were located next to the best schools within the district. And that our cat, Gorgeous George, was allowed. Those were critical things I required when renting a property.

So I worked super hard and was a high achiever at pretty much anything I did – even cleaning a fricken toilet was worth my integrity. Anyway, I wanted to give Jay everything. When he was really little of course, he didn’t care, but as he got older and was influenced by the media and peers, things changed. He wanted brand named clothes and shoes etc. It was really hard. It was hard to say I can’t do that or I don’t have that. He had feelings of anger towards me as he grew up into that ‘tween’ stage. He struggled to understand that I had been prepared to leave money, boats and a glamorous life behind me. He didn’t understand that I had taken the most important thing. That nothing but he, Jay, was the most precious thing for me to take. His father didn’t want him, he wasn’t prepared to participate physically, financially or emotionally in Jay’s life.

Even though all of the correct papers were filled out with the divorce and him agreeing to me having full custody, he never financially supported us. I did it on my own. Jay’s father managed to wangle out of any requirement to help support his son. Do you know, the government determined that the father should pay $11.00 a week towards Jay’s keep. That’s why I had 3 jobs. That’s why things were really hard and I had no family to fall back on. Jay and I were the family. I tried to make a family, I wanted a father-figure in Jay’s life. I couldn’t be a mum and a dad. I was a mum, that’s where all my instincts, hormones and chemicals took me – to Mumsville. I didn’t know how to be a dad and neither did I want to.

So we battled along, and it truly was a struggle – we went through the ups and downs of life. We both survived and came out the other end. Now, my beautiful son is so his own person, in spite of the hard times, or is it because of them? When he was in his early twenties and working at real jobs, his money just vanished. He would buy $300 pairs of jeans or shoes, a $75 T-shirt, after shave – living a champagne lifestyle on a beer salary. We had many arguments about money. I gave him money and helped him out, perhaps when I shouldn’t have – in fact many times I think I should have let him flounder but it was just not in me as a mother to watch my son flounder. See, that’s when a father is needed, some hard arse stuff!

Off Jay goes to Oz, he knows he needs to get away to grow and find himself. While I was available it was easy for him to fall back on me. Now, on his own in Australia he was living his own life. He learned who he was and has defined himself. It all comes back to that phone call last night that made my heart swell up so big. Last night he said he realized money was not what he wanted in life. What he wanted was to make a difference in the world. It is one of the proudest moments I have had. Only a few years ago, when I was at university, I had a piece of paper stuck to my wall with:” I will make a difference!” written on it in black marker pen. I woke up every day and went to sleep every night seeing that piece of paper and believing in myself and what I was doing. I wanted to help children and make a difference. Jay saw that paper, he saw my determination, he saw my passion. The parallel belief between myself and my son tells me something. It tells me that I have done the right thing. He wants to save the world, he wants to spread peace, harmony and love. I am so proud of him and there is a sense of relief for me – kind of like my job is done here, but of course not. I have much to do – even from my bed, but not as much as Jay!

Jay will make a difference, he already has and will keep walking that walk – you deserve all things good, my son.

Do the Right Thing

do the right thing

I saw a man dragging a puppy

that didn’t want to go

And everyone else in the street didn’t want to know

“Don’t get involved!” said a nervous Mr Hay

And he crossed over the street

to walk the other way!

I saw a brother pinch his little sister

on her tiny arm

How could anyone want to do

another body harm?

“Don’t get involved!” said a spiteful Miss Melissa

She won’t play with me at school

and is meaner than her sister

I saw a man shout

and push a woman to the ground

She bowed her head and was crying

but you couldn’t hear a sound

“Don’t get involved!” said a crabby Mrs Mend

And I wondered for over a month

if that poor woman had a friend

But now I’m older and I know better

I want to pass this message on

If there’s a body in need

you must always take heed

Because nobody wants to go through it

alone

© Kait King, 2015

You know you know…..

you know you know

You already know –

You know you’ve

known for ages

But just didn’t

want to look into that ugly face

or go to that ugly place

You knew months ago

when he was angry with you

when all you did

was be excited he was home

and he turned his back

and left you there alone

You already knew

when you could

smell the hint of perfumes

that you know you

don’t wear

Those whispered

phone calls

He doesn’t want you

to hear

You already know –

you know you’ve known

for ages

but just didn’t

want to look

into that ugly lying face

or go to that ugly empty place

© Kait King, 2015

In spite of

inspiteof

I don’t believe you have nothing to say

that you don’t want to stand up

and shout

“don’t treat me that way”

I don’t believe you can keep quiet

for very much longer

the hate in you grows stronger

even though you deny it

it kills you every day

I don’t believe there is happiness in you

that you skip through every day

that your glasses are a rose-colored hue

that you are not reliant in almost every way

but that’s just not true

You drag yourself through every day

knowing that he will

punch you

humiliate you

control you

and you want to kill him

for killing you –

you try to think of another way

but nothing else will do

you have no money, no car or hope

this mean,

ugly-spirited human

says you can’t cope

in the real world

But you know that’s not true –

right?

© Kait King, 2015

You should be an actress!

You should be an actress

I didn’t want to

lay back

in the director’s

chair

I didn’t want to

take off my clothes

to help me get “up there”

I didn’t want to be

just bouncy breasts

on TV

I didn’t want my body

out there

for all to see

So I didn’t take

the money

I didn’t get

the job

not for any other reason

than I wouldn’t

suck his knob

© Kait King, 2015

The Sink Hole

I will not be labeled

As damaged or disabled

I won’t let myself think

I’ll just go down like

Water gurgling in a sink

I try to envision my life

With more purpose

Than “useless”

Sometimes this is

An exercise

Quite fruitless

I won’t slide down

That gurgling sink

And I know that’s what

A lot of people

Think

But I’ve proved them

Wrong before

Not just once

But even more

I won’t quietly go down

That gurgling sink

I have more words

To say

More words

I must ink

I’m not here

To kick up a stink

I just want to make

More people think

Before I go down

That gurgling sink

Kait King 12th July 2019