September 5, 2005

• 
  The trip to town yesterday was tiring and rewarding.  The weather
  was too wet for Greyfox to set up his stand, so we spent the day
  together.  First, we unloaded the things I’d taken into town for
  him and loaded my car with things he had accumulated there for
  me.  There was one big box besides several bags and cans of
  bargain cat food he had purchased, and a very nice leather shirt jacket.

  While I was loading the box into my back seat, I took a quick peek
  inside.  Immediately, I saw a Global Priority Mail flat-rate
  envelope.  WTF???  When I pulled it out, Greyfox said it was
  one of my birthday presents.  He had thought it needed some sort
  of wrapping.  He said he was pretty sure I was going to like it

  That’s an interesting and significant statement.  When the Old
  Fart’s narcissistic personality disorder was in full expression he had
  given me a series of gifts so inappropriate that I asked him to stop
  giving me presents.  One of them was so ill-considered that it
  actually made me cry.

  I suppose that warrants some explanation.  I hope I can do the
  story justice.  It was years ago, at a time when our financial
  state was abysmal.  Greyfox had disintegrated emotionally, was
  very fearful and filled with regrets for having given up his well-paid
  job and moved to Alaska.  As was then his typical style, he blamed
  me.

  Still, he thought he was expected and obliged to observe my birthday
  with a gift.  There was no money to spend for one, and he has
  never had any knack or urge for arts and crafts.  He had a sale
  flyer from a book club that would send his order on a “bill me later”
  basis, so for me he chose a “Baroque for the Bath” gift set.

  I think he said at the time that he didn’t know that I don’t like
  Baroque music.  If that was true the only reason that he didn’t
  know was that he wasn’t paying attention on any of the several
  occasions that I told him so and asked him to wear headphones when he
  played it in my house.  The music makes me tense, probably just
  about the same way that rock and roll used to affect my mother. 
  So, he gave me a CD collection of music that would be torture to listen
  to.  But that’s not all.  The package also included
  several packets of bath salts.

  Hot baths were the most difficult thing for me to get used to doing
  without, when I moved out here where there’s no running water. 
  They
  are palliative and therapeutic for the muscle spasms of this damned
  disease.  For decades a hot bath was my nightly bedtime ritual, to
  help
  me get to sleep. If he had only included a night in a motel somewhere
  with a bathtub, bath salts would have been welcome.  However, our
  being tapped out at the time made a soak in a tub decidedly out of
  reach.  The friend who used to let us go to her house and use her
  bathtub had recently had her house burned down in a big wildfire. 

  I looked at that wildly inappropriate gift, and thought that Greyfox had deliberately
  chosen that horrible music and the bath salts for which I had no use,
  but had a strong desire to be able to use.  I knew he hated
  me.  He had told me often enough and showed me in a multitude of
  ways.  I assumed that he had put a lot of thought into the gift
  and had chosen those things to hurt me.  Thinking that he wanted
  to hurt me really did hurt.  I handed it back to him, and asked
  him not to give me any more gifts.  Then I walked away and wept
  alone for a while.

  That was then.  This is now.  I was mildly amused at
  Greyfox’s smiling assurance that I was going to like the two birthday
  presents he sent home with me yesterday.  He had mentioned them
  several times in phone conversations over the last couple of weeks,
  saying he was pretty sure it would be a pleasant surprise.  I
  reserved judgement.  I felt neither anticipation nor dread. 
  Nor was I particularly curious, only slightly so, mostly wondering what
  it might be that he might think I might like, since he always used to
  be so totally lacking in empathy.

  At the meeting yesterday, he talked about his NPD.  Since several
  of us were talking about medication (it’s Double Trouble and psych meds
  and reactions to them are a common subject for discussion) Greyfox
  mentioned that there is no medication for his condition.  He went
  on to say that most experts say that there is no very effective therapy
  for it, either, but that I had been willing to work with him despite
  the poor prognosis, and he had started developing some empathy. 
  His affection and gratitude were readily apparent, and I felt wonderful
  about it.

  When I got home last night, as I put away groceries and got ready for
  bed I kept thinking about the presents, trying to decide whether to
  open them right away or wait the two weeks until my birthday. 
  When I had called Greyfox to let him know I’d gotten home safely, I
  asked him if anything in there was time sensitive, or if it was
  something practical that I might later regret I’d not opened sooner and
  used, rather than waiting.  He said no, but curiosity won and I
  opened them before I went to sleep last night.

  Each package contained a CD, both of them used (which I like, since
  that means he didn’t blow much money on them) and with some of the
  song titles in Spanish, French and Italian.  He really had given it some
  thought.  He really had been paying attention to my tastes. 
  Latino music is among my favorite genres, and I’d rather hear any love
  song in Spanish, French or Italian than in English.  Show me any Spanglish bilingual
  person who prefers the sound of English, and I will be duly astonished.

  I read the outsides of the cases last night, and this morning I opened
  them to put them in the CD player.  In one, I found that Greyfox
  had inserted one of his business cards, with these words on the
  back:  “When you hear cut #2, imagine that I am singing it. 
  I would if I could!  Love, Greyfox.”

  I have the player set to repeat that track, and I’ve heard it I don’t
  know how many dozen times so far and I’m not tired of it yet.  The
  first time it played, my eyes misted over and my throat choked
  up.  I told Greyfox when we talked on the phone this morning, and
  he said first time he heard it he broke down and sobbed.  Here is
  the lyric:

  I have been blind
  Unwilling
  To see the true love
  You’re giving
  I have ignored every blessing
  I’m on my knees
  Confessing…

  That I feel myself surrender
  Each time I see your face
  I am staggered by your beauty
  Your unassuming grace
  And I feel my heart is turning
  Falling into place
  I can’t hide it
  Now hear my confession

  I have been wrong about you
  Thought I was strong without you
  For so long
  Nothing could move me
  So long
  Nothing could change me

  Now I feel myself surrender
  Each time I see your face
  I am captured by your beauty
  Your unassuming grace
  And I feel my heart is turning
  Falling into place
  I can’t hide it
  Now hear my confession

  You are the air that I breathe
  You’re the ground beneath my feet
  When did I stop believing?

  ‘Cause I feel myself surrender

  Each time I see your face

  I am staggered by your beauty

  Your unassuming grace

  And I feel my heart is falling into place

  I can’t hide

  Now hear my confession.
  

  • 5:58 pm
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