Don't Ask, Won't Tell

Entry 1    12:20 p.m. 

A Short Groaner

Once there was a mother skunk with two children, both boys. She named them In and Out.  When In was out, Out was in, and when Out was out, In was In.  One day, when Out was in and In was out, the mother skunk called and called for In, as it was dinner time.  He didn't respond.  The mother skunk asked Out to go find his brother.  He came back almost immediately, with his brother in tow.  The mother skunk asked, how did you find your brother so fast?  Out answered, "It was easy, In stinked."

Which leads me to this morning.  Jenny got up to go have breakfast with her friend Karina, who lives in Federal Way.  They always meet in the middle, somewhere near Southcenter. Today, they met at IHOP, which is clearly a favorite haunt of el pinché (and hers) as evidenced by at least one earlier journal entry.  It is on Capitol Hill, next to another favorite place of theirs, The Silver Cloud Inn, just off Broadway on Madison. Now, I have not been to an IHOP in 30 years.  It was January 19, 1991, to be exact, the last time I was there.  How do I know?  Jenny and I had spent the night together in her dorm at Lander, and got up early and had breakfast at IHOP in the District to celebrate her 20th birthday.  It was terrible food.  More importantly, Jenny's parents, who weren't aware we were coupling (they knew we were coupled), came later that morning and took her to breakfast at IHOP.  Fortunately, the waitress didn't rat her out. So, the memory sticks.  

Jenny and I have discussed how awful IHOP was on many occassions, and until recently, she would never go there, at least not to my knowledge.  But, in the last few months, she has met el pinché there, or ostensibly met him there (The Silver Cloud Inn is rather conveniently located next door).  

So, this morning, when I learned she was on IHOP on Madison, my instinct kicked into gear.  She was home briefly (she is feeling quite good right now, which is amazingly great news), and then out with her sisters for the day to go paddleboarding in Roslyn.  Yes, she feels that good.  She texted me, complaining that her sisters have made plans to go away to Missouri to a music festival, and didn't invite her. She learned of it during the car ride.  I texted her back, "Say something, you have a major illness. If not now, then when?" I read it back after I 
sent the text, and decided that the question I asked was relevant to me as well.  So, I sent a text asking her if she had really met Karina, or if she had breakfast with Eric el pinché.  That was 30 minutes ago.  Radio silence. 

My therapist has told me repeatedly that asking a liar to tell the truth is like expecting a  penny scale to give your accurate weight when you only put one foot on the machine.  
Entry 2    12:47 p.m.

She responded.  I don't believe her. It doesn't matter. She did say she "would like to meet Eric [el pinché motherfucker] one day for a walk or breakfast or something. I'm really scared of upsetting you. He is worried you will be angry and call Kandice again because he knows I'm going to be honest with you about seeing him. It's another thing I am trying to grieve."

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