ERNIE AND ERNESTINA: Searching

Book Two, Chapter 289: Recovering Me

Joshua calls shortly before noon — his first call since I left him that long phone message two nights ago.

He talks of the little red car. “I was lucky to find a left headlight from a matching car — the exact same model. I ordered it on Wednesday, and it arrived from Connecticut on Friday. It’s with the car in the body shop now.”

I listen. I don’t say anything.

“I’m shooting a State Farm commercial in the park, at Big Rock. When I was a kid I passed Big Rock all the time. I played basketball there. This will be fun. I’m looking forward to it.”

“We have much to talk about,” I say. “What do you think about yourself?”

Joshua is patient with my question. “I’m an actor. I’m an athlete. I’m into restoring cars. I like motorcycles and pinball machines. I like to help people. That’s just who I am. I know who I am. I loved my daddy. We were very close. After he died, I didn’t land an acting job” — he pauses, counts the months — “for a year and a half.”

He talks more, explaining and validating his life. “Twelve-Step programs work for you. I don’t want to talk about my innermost emotions. I stay positive. If it’s a cloudy day, I say: ‘It’ll be sunny tomorrow.’ ”

“You’ve told me you’ve been so angry that you’ve smashed a hole in a ceiling, even knowing at the time that you’d have to repair it.”

“Maybe that happens once a year, that I get that angry. Most of the time I walk around the block. And Christy is the only one who can make me that angry. She’s an extreme person. She’s toxic. She’s not my girlfriend anymore. She’s barely a friend.”

“This is a change,” I say.

“I don’t want to be around anyone who makes me that angry. I won’t position myself in this way ever again. It won’t happen. I’m learning to say no.”

This is also a change. Joshua’s learning to set boundaries.

“I’m going to fix my breakfast now. I was tired, I slept late, and I haven’t eaten. I’ll fix oats, then hang out with my friend Gary. I’ll be leaving here in about forty-five minutes. What are your plans for today?”

“There’s a brick duplex for sale up the street, with an Open House this afternoon. I’ll check it out. I like duplexes.”

“I’d like to know how much it is,” Joshua says.

“I’ll let you know. And congratulations on getting the commercial and on getting the car fixed.”

After I hang up, I remember this: co-dependents tend to focus on the other person. I need to stay focused on myself. Recover myself. Keep recovering myself.

Joshua is living his own life. I need the wisdom to know that my life is mine, and his life is his. I want the courage to be honest with him and the wisdom to know that we’re not the same person.

People are so similar, yet we’re also vastly different. Are we more different than we are alike?

I don’t know. Perhaps we all hurt in the same way, and we love in all different ways.