Good Riddance to Bad Rubbish

We had to go back to our old apartment tonight to finish cleaning it out. While we were there, somebody’s car window got smashed and their in-dash stereo system stolen. It just punctuated all the reasons we wanted to get out of there and I started to get very angry. I feel like I’ve been calmer this week, more reasonable, now that I’m away from that place. Tonight, though, was a different story. I was back to where I was before.

Stef and Mom had already been there for a while when Dad and I arrived seperately in the five o’clock hour. Stef and Mom had done all of the cleaning required so all that was left, really, was to move the heavy furniture that we were not bringing to our new place.

I felt the strange desire to break all of it, as if it were a physical representation of all the bullshit we’ve put up with at that place over the past three years, as if it would make me feel better. Our old desk was spared because somebody else might want it down the line. Our old entertainment center was something Mom and Dad wanted to try out in their place. Our old headboard, though, that was fair game.

I had started kicking it when it was still upstairs in the apartment. When it was outside on the lawn, ready to be loaded into Dad’s truck or carried off to the trash, that’s when the fun really began.

I asked if anyone was taking it. They all said no. Without a further thought, I started beating the shit out of it, taking out every frustration I had. The legs of it buckled. Then I jumped on top if it and started jumping up and down to crush the main piece. I stopped for a moment to let them remove the mirror that was embedded into the thing and then I kept going and when I was done it was in smaller, more carryable pieces.

We drove away from that place and I felt as if a weight had finally been lifted. Then, of course, I had to turn on Dateline NBC when we got home and there was this story about these two black guys who broke into a condo, and raped and murdered all of the people inside except the one that got away because of a hair clip that deflected the bullet. I reached under our bed for where I’d set the old baseball bat and I almost went to sleep with my arms around it, until I came to my senses.