This weekend was a spectacular one for things to go wrong. The toilet seat incident, the fender bender were starters. Now it is Sunday and time for some more fun. Fair enough right? If there is more disaster to be had, why not spread the wealth?
Tonya’s daughter wanted to go shopping for some souvenirs. We head to one of our favorite haunts. This particular market sucks because it is booth after booth of cheap Bob Marley t-shirts, nauseating incense and those cheaply tooled leather coin purses that read ‘Mexico’ and have a corny cactus or sunrays on them. I walk down aisle after aisle, having to walk like Igor, all hunched over beneath all the hanging scarves and other assorted flowing raiment. This does give me a chance to get a full frontal of the slightly ‘worn’ middle-aged (or better) mom who walks by. She is wearing a shirt that has two hands on the front, both giving the thumbs up, with the thumbs pointing slightly inward towards the position of her face. It reads ‘This girl is high maintenance’. Nice.
My head feels like it has been pounded incessantly by a brut in boxing gloves because of all the sickly sweet incense I have had to inhale whilst in this market. I am thrilled when the final souvenir is bought and we walk out into the open. They want to get an ice cream, but the over does of cheap nag champa has me saturated with exotics. I stand outside the ice cream place and watch the hordes anxiously await their refreshments. I notice the guys who are working don’t have the decency to rinse their scoopers as they do in more ‘decent’ ice cream joints. Whatever the guy got before you, you get smeared all over your flavor, and so on and so on.
We sit in the park and Tonya and her daughter eat their ice creams. I watch all the other people milling around. There is a young couple across from me sitting on a fountain. The guy is all over the girl, and it appears as if she is enjoying it and then has had enough. She goes through these stages several times. People stop at the fountain and snap a quick photo of their fun day out. A small kid is put up on the fountain for a photo and slips in. All her elders laugh as they pull her out. She doesn’t think it is so funny, but I think she is just more frightened than anything else.
I hear thunder and look up at the grey clouds gathering. I ask if the others are ready to go. We are stalled by two cigarettes that must be smoked before we can move ahead.
We pull up outside the house right as it is starting to sprinkle. I put my keys in to open the gate to let the ladies in, and can’t get the key out. Tonya takes over and pulls the key out as they walk passed. I get in and slide the lock to. Tonya has already gotten to the front door and just opened it and the dogs come flying out like rabid caged beasts. We go through our ritual and then they run back into the house. “We should take the dogs out for their walk before it really starts raining hard,” Tonya says. I agree, and grab my hoodie to shield myself from some of the rain. She calls the dogs and they step back out. I follow up behind, grab the leashes and pull the door to. As it is closing, I make that paranoid obsessive-compulsive move to where I Pat my pocket to insure my keys is there. It is slow motion. We are standing in the rain, the door behind me is closing and I am looking at Tonya. She sees the panic in my face and at the exact moment we both understand what has just happened she says, “Do you have your keys?” Nope, I don’t. I remind Tonya that she pulled them out of the gate. We are standing outside and it is starting to rain now. I ask Tonya “Where are the keys?” She starts laughing, “On the dining room table” We all start laughing. The dogs don’t think it is funny. They are huddled together looking sullen and looking up at us like we should get our act together real quick. We go back and forth around the house to see if any windows are ajar. Of course not, I am worse than an old lady, I keep this joint locked up tight. Tonya says she knows a way her mom has gotten in before and says she will try the same. Luckily, we have a ladder handy. We set it up and Tonya says she will try and squeeze in to the little window. She laughs as she is halfway in and realizes she can go no further. I do the typical thing you do when someone is on a ladder and can’t defend himself; I poke her in the butt.
She comes back down and we all wonder aloud how we will get in. We circle around again…as if somehow a window or door would have magically come open. None had. We are standing in the driveway slowly getting more and more wet. I hear the sound of a ladder being moved next door. “Hey! Go and ask those nerds next door if we can use their ladder!” I say to Tonya. In a flash she disappears. I wait a minute and when I hear a ladder being moved, I take off to follow her. She is standing with the neighbor and they are getting an expanding ladder. I say hello and quickly offer my assistance. In no time at all we are back and ready to try another assault. I left the bedroom window slightly open. Tonya says she will go for it. “Are you sure?” I ask. She says she is, and she is smaller so she is the obvious candidate.
I expand the ladder to be tall enough so she can crawl in. I steady the ladder and Tonya asks if it is safe. I reassure her it is. She starts her ascent and I anchor at the bottom. She is up and in through the window, laughing as she gets herself inside. Us chumps standing outside, let out a victorious cheer. I quickly release the ladder and get it down to its normal size. As I round the side of the house to take it back, Tonya has opened the door. We exchange congratulatory comments back and forth and then agree to try and originally do what we set out to do, walk the dogs before it rains! I tell Tonya I will be right back; I am going to return the ladder.
I muscle the ladder down the driveway and to the gate, “Watch the dogs,” I yell out as I sling the doors open and push the ladder out. I walk it back to the neighbor and back to where they originally stored the ladder. There is a bit of confusion for a moment, they are not sure if I should just leave it or help hoist it up onto their roof. I stand there while it is discussed, then I get a nod and an “It’s ok”. I say thank you and give them both a thumbs off, and hurry back next door.
As I close the gates I see Alexandra milling around in the rain like she is in trouble. “Where is Tonya?” I ask as I walk past looking for her. I walk into the living room and call out her name. Alexandra follows me in and says she is upstairs. I hang around for a second and ask, “What is she doing?” Alexandra mumbles something. I ask her what she said. She mumbles again, only louder but still indecipherable. “What?” I ask again, getting slightly perturbed. “She hit her head,” she says. “How did she hit her head?” I ask. “She slipped and hit it against the wall…” I am not clear on what has happened, so I head upstairs to find her. Tonya is standing in the bathroom. I walk in and ask what happened. She is crying and holding her head. I ask quietly what happened and reach out to see what is wrong. She has a lump on the side of her head. She hit it hard, that is about all I get. Tonya is crying and she pulls back and says, “Leave me alone”. I get the hint and quickly disappear back downstairs. I tell Alexandra to grab a leash, we have dogs to walk.
The walk gives me time to figure out what happened. Of course, it takes forever to get a straight story. As it turns out, it takes a huge amount of time to finally get the story squared away. From all the pieces I can put together, this is it: As I was returning the ladder to the neighbor, Tonya was trying to straighten up a bit. The dogs were going in and out, and Tonya bends over to move our ladder out of the way. She loses footing on the wet stones, and falls sideways, her head being the main thing to break the fall, as it comes to a halt on the wall beside her. Ouch.
Tonya is sitting in the living room, visibly shaken. She takes Head injuries very serious because of recent events. She is contemplating going to the hospital. I decide to call my sister, who is a nurse, and get some diagnosis. I call her up and put Tonya on the phone. My sister asks some basic questions and tells some basic steps. To illustrate a point, she mentions Natasha Richardson…this is a bad move. Tonya uses the same example all the time, and now she has been put into the same sentence as a comparison. Rather than calm, this has the opposite effect and Tonya gets more upset and worried. She is told to relax, and if certain signs come up…get to a doctor.
By the time 8 pm rolls around I know she is ok, because she is asking if we should watch last week’s episode of ‘Housewives of Orange County’, so that we can be caught up before tonight’s new episode. It’s been an action packed weekend for sure, but now watching others pathetic lives sure takes the worry out of our own.
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