Roots

I need to color my hair again... Every summer, without fail, my hair turns absolutely blonde in the sun. Not blonde enough to be cute; just blonde enough to be...well...not red anymore.

I color my hair because I feel more like me after it's done. I feel better, like I've solved a problem. Whether that problem is not liking the natural color or the white hairs that have been sprouting up since Katrina hit I just don't know. Either way, I love being a redhead, and most people agree that anything else just wouldn't fit me. And it's nice to have the option of sweeping those white hairs under the rug and pretending they don't exist. I'm only twenty-seven.

Anyway, I spent the evening last night with Aunt J and her sister, Auntie Triangle and Triangle's sixteen year old daughter who is remarkably smart and mellow and pleasant for her age. It was a nice relaxing evening with the ladies. It was just so incredibly good to be around family and feel... Oh my god, safe. Supported. Genuine care for my well being instead of just the object of casual passing interest.

We had a marvelous dinner at Miriam, then strolled the few blocks to Aunt J's spacious brownstone apartment, where we lounged with the dog and two cats and cable TV (oooh, TV!), quietly chatting into the night. Quietly chatting into the night is a favorite pastime of mine, one which I learned from my father's sisters. I used to enjoy a lot of this with my good friend Kelley in New Orleans....we would spend hours, making dinner for each other, drinking wine and just enjoying each other's company. Except for one particularly tranquil evening with Mama Squirrel, I haven't enjoyed too much of that kind of thing since I came to New York so it was really pleasant to be able to just relax with some family and chat the night away.

Talking with my aunts made me feel really good. It made me remember that I am not alone in this! I have this amazing network of strong women in my life who love and support me! It also made me really think hard about being a grown-up and taking responsibility for my own well being instead of just coasting through...which is a really easy pattern to fall into when you work as many hours as I do for so little.

So. Here's something pertinent to my well-being:

JH went to Europe. For four months. I still own that house with him...and he's renting the house out to some of his friends. I'm less than thrilled about the situation, but I've sort of resigned myself to it because I feel powerless about the whole thing: I'm not in Louisiana, I can't afford a lawyer, we don't even have much equity in the place to begin with.

The aunts put it all in perspective and encouraged me to pursue legal action while he's gone. I don't know if it will lead anywhere, but I have to try to get what's mine instead of just letting it go. I've been letting him control the situation just like I let him control me when I lived there, cowing to him just so I can keep things smooth between us, letting him convince me that I'm being a bitch if I stand up for what is rightfully mine. I am such a strong, outspoken, take-charge kind of woman; in retrospect it's amazing how much I let him control my every move.

Not long before Katrina, his friend Joe got arrested. Joe was a scruffy guy who worked odd jobs around the French Quarter; kind of a classic recovering gutterpunk; dropped out of high school, lived in a bad neighborhood with a pregnant girlfriend, just trying to make a living. JH met him while working at a coffee shop (before JH quit his job so I could support him for two years on a shopgirl salary). Joe got arrested because he happened to be very near to a tourist mugging not long after it occurred. He happened to fit a very generic description of a skinny white guy with long, dark hair, a goatee and a red hoodie (this describes half the white guys in New Orleans--the other half wear black hoodies). I always liked Joe and I absolutely believe that he didn't mug anyone; he's just one of those people....trouble seems to find him wherever he goes.

Anyway, after 90 days or so of jail, Joe's girlfriend had the baby and Joe got out on parole. I forget why, but for some reason the parole board needed $500 from him, and he had to pay them so he could stay out and work and be a good baby daddy. JH, who didn't work at this time, had no money to lend him. So JH turned to me and asked me to lend Joe the money.

I knew it was a bad idea. I knew it. I said no.

JH protested. He said Joe was our friend, and that we should help our friend out because we had the money and he didn't....and of course, it would be a loan. Joe would pay me back. I said no again. I only made about $400 a week. I paid all our rent, bought all our groceries. I was the breadwinner. JH did not work and got shitty grades; he had no right to tell me what to do with my money. And besides, JH would never get my money back for me...he's terrible about things like that.

Then JH told me I was being stingy, that I was always so selfish. It wasn't fair of me to be so selfish when our friend actually needed something that could change his life. JH assured me Joe would pay me back. He said we could write out a contract. We could have a third party witness to the contract. He said there was no good reason for me not to lend the money. He said I was being a bitch.

I caved. I lent the money. I never saw a red cent.