I had spent all day yesterday checking out the Pasco County Tax Deeds sales for today.  I had agonized alone all day, knowing that Richard Martin would be with Zena tonight.  I just barely got through in time for church and still couldn’t get the thought of them out of my mind.  I went to the Fox telling myself I would check out Richard Martin’s theory about the miniature liquors and then I would have something to talk to him about the next day.  Who was I kidding?

 

I felt abandoned and unwanted and needed to have some stranger fawn over me to reassert my self esteem.  I walked in and except for one other couple was the only person at the bar.  I guess I’d be buying my own drink tonight.  Could I drown my sorrows in my one glass limit of house red wine?  Two men came in with an obviously drunk blonde bimbo and a third came in at about the same time.  He went into the kitchen and spoke with the bartender as if perhaps they were fellow employees.  He told Tommy to send me another drink if I’d just smile.

 

I waited a few moments to say anything to him.  He was my age, full of himself and no one I thought a challenge, but there was no one else there.  I walked over and assured him I was not having a bad day and I deliberately placed my hand on his back as I leaned close and spoke.  I didn’t know him 15 minutes before he was telling me and everyone else who would listen how much he loved me.  I just hate that.  He doesn’t know a thing about me.  He wants to come be a volunteer with the Tigers.  I hope he forgets.

 

A tall slender, balding man came in and obviously knew Michael Saylor.  He was with a striking blonde who was virtually wrapped around him.  He took my hand to shake it and introduce himself as Jim Harringer?  I don’t let people touch me and I never touch them without considering the effect that usually has.  He was so quick to grab my hand that now as he stood there, my hand in his, I felt to pull away would be rude.

 

He seemed to take on that familiar lost in time look.  He just kept holding my hand and staring deep into my eyes.  His date reached up and literally turned his face to hers and said something inaudible.   Ignoring her, he turned back to me as if he were just speechless.  This gives me such a sense of power.  I don’t know what it is, but this was the boost my bruised ego needed.  I could leave now.  And did.

 

When I got home Richard Martin paged and my heart leapt.  Could this mean that he was not going to be wrapped in her arms tonight?  Or had she just excused herself to take a shower and he was now using the opportunity to make sure I was home alone like I should be?  He was agitated that he had been unable to reach me and said he had left an angry message on my cell phone.  I don’t know how to use the thing yet, so I couldn’t play the message back.  I talked to him until late in the night.

 

All of these things were replaying in my mind as I drove all over Pasco County today.  I got the mobile home lot I wanted, managed to raise enough cash in town to pay for it without having to drive back to Tampa, and was on my way to do some research on a judgment for Richard Martin in Brooksville.  I stopped back by the lot to put up a For Sale sign and to photograph the lot for my files.  I was thinking about the little Voice in my head that was assuring me that I could live with anyone, but the one I should choose is the one I could not live without.  As I was trampling down killer sand spurs and talking on the cell phone to Richard Martin he said, “Tell me something good” and everything inside me wanted to say, “I love you, Richard Martin.  That’s something good”.  Instead I told him I was going to have to bite my tongue to keep from telling him what was on my mind.  I hung up so frustrated.

 

On the way home from Spring Hill I argued with the little Voice, as I am prone to do.  It kept telling me to call him up and proclaim my love.  It kept insisting that I may never have the opportunity again