04.24.10

Amsterdam Ave & 59th Street bus stop.

That's where I sat, tears streaming down and my body shaking as I held my hand to my rouged cheek.

I don't exactly remember, but I do know that he grabbed me by the back of the head and pulled my hair.. so that's when I slapped him. Or maybe it was a punch. Before I know it, I'm filled with rage, my purse is on the ground and I'm coming after him with fists swinging.

I knocked his lens right out of his glasses.

(It was always loose, though.)

When he hit me back, my head rang like a church bell. I ran over to the bus stop to sit down.

I wanted to get up, but I was so shocked, so hurt, so.. wasted. And I wanted to get out of there, I was a little paranoid that the hospital staff saw us walk out. I wonder if they saw him rip off his hospital bracelets.

Ugh, flashbacks of the damn cops trying to help me restrain him. People on the street watching and laughing. I cursed out a group black guys walking along, and albeit hilarious in hindsight, at the time I just wanted to burst out into tears.

"He's a lucky guy."

That's what the paramedic said to me while we we're in the ambulance.

All I could think about, is how this is my second time in a NYC ambulance. And how lucky a girl I was when I was the cargo in that ambulance. How lucky to have a guy who would still stand beside me... even after I did something terrible.

I told him last night that we were through.

I can't possibly mean that.