Ashley has given me a lot of hope and confidence. New feelings for a guy who’s well aware the rug can and will be pulled out from him at any moment and whose life thus far has never proven him wrong. Now this is partly my fault. I’ve set up everything, every relationship with this knowledge going in and I’ve always saved a small part of myself to prepare for that day. Which means I’ve never 100% given of myself to another woman but maybe it’s my age, the hard lesson’s I’ve learned or the knowledge gained from being welcomed into the healthy relationships of my friends but for Ashley, I’m ALL IN. My heart, my future, my life are all in her slender, well manicured hands. This doesn’t seem like much of a leap of faith when you look at my hands and where they’ve taken me BUT they have allowed me to survive against the odds and wishes of myself and others but with Ashley surviving life isn’t good enough. I have to live life. Just like she has.
At first it was a scary proposition. Accepting what she’s always known, the love of her family. Welcoming their love as they’ve invited me to do. I told her a million times, “I can’t just pretend that they are my family, too, that’s not how it works.” What I really meant is “I love your family but there’s no way I could ever consider them mine because there’s no way they could really accept me. Plus, if I did and you left it would hurt double bad.” But this time I made the leap. No stuntman. No security cable hidden in my pant leg. No harness. Not even a safety net. In spite of the sequel number attached to the heading of every story of this day, this was an original for me. See, I have always been the Godfather to my friends’ kids. The goofy uncle. The fun loving, mentor. So I assumed I’d never be a starter, a team captain, receive a full share of the post season winnings, get equal billing above the title. I am a character, a supporting player. A good one but never the hero. The one that gets the girl. And I’ve always been grateful just to be on the periphery of “family.” Observing. Enjoying the moments, the holidays but then retreating to my cave while they did something mundane but wonderful…together. They could even take for granted that they’d always have a family. Through thick and thin. Sickness and health. I never assumed anything except eventually things would change and I’d be out. Usually not knowing why but always assuming it was a failure on my part. Or I wasn’t needed or was too needy. I’d somehow stepped over the “family only” line and was being expelled. Made perfect sense to me. The best I could do was to assume that my absence somehow brought the family, especially those in strife, in need of a villain to unite against, to bring them back together. Someone had to take the bullet and that was my job. It was my fault and the fact that I cared so much was my undoing. I was “that guy” and I have to say, it wasn’t the worst thing to be because I knew some people who didn’t even get to be “that guy” and I wouldn’t trade my limited time on the inside with never being there. Sure, it hurts but all good things hurt when you lose them, otherwise they wouldn’t be good, right? And losing good things, especially great things, is only a matter of time. Not just for me but always for me. My honest goal was to leave loved ones better off than they were before they met me. To know that I’d done my best. Of course, you don’t always reach your goals and you wind up replaying the moments trying to pinpoint where you screwed up, over and over.
Which is why this marriage to Ashley AND her family is completely insane. Why should I think it would be any different? And craziest of all, I’ve set myself up for the ultimate failure. The one that would prove everyone right about me, from the anonymous critics on the blogosphere to the big kids on my block who taunted me on the way to school ,”how does it feel that even your whore mommy doesn’t even love you?” who I fought until they knocked my teeth out but who I eventually out grew and got even with every last one of those inverted cowards, the final one, me and my friends biggest, baddest tormentor, “Ammo,” on the night I graduated from Ottumwa High School, at “Bubba’s” (our finest, non I. D. checking dive bar) graduation after party, no less. He crashed it, as usual and started in on me in front of everybody I knew and I don’t know what or how I pulled this off but I unloaded 15 years of picking on “Arnold The Pig”, until Ammo was down. Nose broken. His blood this time. Done. Even. Sad. Sad because it immediately dawned on me that I’d just taken away everything he treasured in life. He as no longer the local badass. I was actually mad at myself for not doing it earlier. Maybe in the privacy of our Center Avenue sidewalk. But my one extra ordinary gift is an deep well for pain (I even defended Ammo when my dad jumped in one day to defend me) so this was our moment and timing is an entertainers best friend (thankfully for me, it even outranks talent). Since I can give you 1000 cases of my bad timing, I cannot list my timing as a virtue but I wouldn’t trade mine with anyone.
Ashley was all about timing. Right girl. Right place. Right time. What a coincidence that my friend Nancy would make me leave my cave to attend a Passover dinner at The Smith’s house April 19 of 08. No one but Nancy Davis could shame, nudge, prod and poke me out of The Beverly Hilton after a year of blessed solitude. No one on this planet was nosey, pushy, controlling enough to shame me outside. Not even Ammo during his glory days and it had to be The Smiths house. Lots of history. I knew my last relationship was over when we couldn’t get along while cruising around Italy and France on “My Iris,” their beautiful yacht 2 years before. Nancy was there then too. “Get out. Life is too short.” She said it then and she was screaming it now.
So I did and Ashley was there and the rest, well, I chalk it up to God and Nancy because I couldn’t have pulled another Ammo. Another Hail Mary. This one even more important than High School. This one has made me forget about the big kids and everything before or since that was stuck in there, reminding me daily of my real self worth. This was a new beginning and as Jim Cameron said at our friend Stan Winston’s funeral after I introduced him to Ashley and told him I was crazy about her but I was afraid I’d blown my chances at a real family life, “Who says? Fuck them! You make the rules and you have as many chances as you need! Fuck THEM! You deserve it and you’ll get it. It just takes assholes like us a little longer.” Jim’s saint of a wife, Suzy, was his fifth but I can’t even remember him without her. They are so perfect. She’s so “not-Jim” and yet he trusts her. He respects her. He honors her. He’s surrendered to their oneness (his diet is a lot less meat friendly, now) but still has the balls to passionately give an old friend his two cents as they lovingly pour a shovel of “goodbye for now” onto the grave of a man who taught both of them what a family really does (they love a lot and laugh a lot…even with cancer, ESPECIALLY with cancer).
It used to hurt my feelings when people called me an opportunist but now I realize it saved my life by giving me the opportunity to live, with Ashley and all the old B.S. was suddenly meaningless. Funny even. In separate issue’s of Vanity Fair Magazine, I’ve been called a “white trash idiot” and “genius, master manipulator” even a “svengali, boy toy” so I unapologetically roped in all of my fact checked gifts and lassoed The One. The one who wouldn’t leave. To those who care about me, thank you for propping me up. For getting me this far. I know it wasn’t easy and I’ll still need you of course but you don’t have to worry. I got mine, too. For the haters, I also thank you. When I was down and needed anything, something, I looked to you. “Has Been” refers to, I’d assume, someone that once “Had”, right? And if I had, then I could. But I hadn’t and I didn’t even know until I got it all. So long. Ashley is keeping me busy with her honest, hopelessly positive take on me so I won’t have time to look for the bad. No more “Google Alerts.” I’ll still Google, of course. But now I’m bullet proof. Because the final reel of my life IS like an old movie but in my new movie, Shane DOES come back. And they live happily ever after. Nothing is ever perfect, you say? I guess that depends on how important “ever after” is to you. It’s everything to me. We can work through the imperfections as long as we do it together. I’m so glad I’m not a quitter. If I hadn’t turned that last page I’d never of known how brilliant it was and the pictures we’re making for the credits are so good you’ll think the whole movie was a masterpiece. If the set up’s the best thing about it, you’re in trouble and even if you know the end is the same, no matter who you are, it’s the journey that makes it worth the trip. We all deserve to be “King of The World” in a love story and right now I’m standing at the bow of that boat showing off for the girl that gave me that crown and it feels good. Mock me. I would. But I’d be a very happy, complete man, just knowing I helped get this One to safety. It’s the least I can do for the real woman who gave me life, then stuck around to see me grow up. I won’t take her love for granted, but I could for a moment and that’s what family does for you. But then again, you already knew that. So you also know that I don’t have to get up and check to see because, well just because.
This confidence is simplifying my life. I can just go on and finish rewriting my work stuff. No more insecure peeping. She’s there. Forever. So I’m cool just sitting in my office doing my thing. I no longer need to check on, to panic. I can breathe. Now that’s a nice feeling. Security…But I should probably recheck the alarm. Make sure the windows in our bedroom are locked. She’s in there, of course and she’s big on security and double checking so I don’t have to even think about it…But I think I’ll do a walk through. I know she’s there but sometimes she falls asleep without the comforter on and I know she gets cold because I keep the room meat locker temp…I’ll say goodbye. Gotta do the man thing. Not because I’m afraid. Not because of any doubt. Because that’s what we men do. It’s why they need us. To observe and report. All is well. But it’s going to take me a bit to get used to it. Good night.
