halloween supper…how appropriate

i had arranged on wednesday to have supper with tamara last night. i chose a pizza place called the flying pig. it was a place i went to with eric and sarah a few weeks ago. that time i had called tamara to see if she wanted to go, but when i finally got in touch with her she told me she’d had a lesson cancelled and was hanging out over at alistair’s.
of course, now i know she was already having a sexual affair with the fsck at this point, so it’s hard not to think about what was really going on when i had tried calling her multiple times and then she declined when i finally got in touch with her. at the time i figured she was just over there drinking and smoking.
anyway, i mention that because after we’d been there a bit she asked if i’d ever been to this place, and when. she didn’t remember the phone conversation we’d had. but boy i do. i wonder how she forgot that, since she loves pigs and at the time i talked about she said “oh, i’d like to go but i’m already hanging out with alistair and [someone else, i forget]”. i guess she was occupied, and maybe didn’t appreciate the reality that i represented butting into her fantasy world.
so that sort of set the tone for much of the rest of the night. we actually ended up hanging out for a number of hours, standing outside after they’d closed. i also learned that tamara is drinking as an escape and seems to sort of know that it is a problem. that was yet another wonderful thing to learn.
it seems like pretty much every time i talk with her it’s because i have all of these questions in my head…questions that i don’t feel like knowing the answers to will really help me with anything other than just knowing. i have a really hard time not talking about the stuff in my head…it’s sort of like the pink elephant in the room, except the thing is knocking me around and against the wall and i’m trying to keep from mentioning it.
sometimes i’m surprised by how willing i am to talk with her and interact with her, and be concerned about her well-being, after what’s happened. not that it makes me want to reconcile — i just don’t want to see her completely destroy herself.
of course, at other times i am surprised at how much hatred and rage wells up inside me. so far i’ve managed to keep from destroying anything, but i’ll admit that a few times i’ve almost broken a number of things within reach. i think i may have chipped a knuckle bone a couple of weeks ago when i slammed my hand into something (i don’t recall what or when exactly).