Friday, October 9, 2009

Meleanie Haines

From a guy named JahWarrior over on the PAFO with a little bit about the woman killed by her psychotic ass husband who happened to be a cop. There are a lot of anti gun people dancing in this woman's blood already to them I ask how is it disarming the civilian population going to help using this case as an example? The man was a jealous, raving lunatic and carried a gun as part of his job as a parole officer (one of the only one as David Codrea would say). This tragedy isn't about gun control it's about some people being incapable of letting go to the point they are willing to destroy lives. Anyway Jah's piece follows and gives a little sense of the woman.

My own bit of Meleanie...
I've tried to read this entire thread, to read about how everyone is so sorry she's gone, their shock and disbelief, their anger at her husband, and the pity for her children. I can't read anymore. It's not that don't believe any of you; I know, in my heart, how hurt many of you must be right now. But, it's starting to sound hollow, and almost detached from the person I got to meet, and befriend. I was a friend of Meleanie's, and my hands are shaking, right now, as I type my own hollow words.

They're shaking over the keyboard, and my eyes are wet, and my lips are curled in a silent snarl, fighting the scream that is ripping at my throat. I want to scream; I want to scream, and keep on screaming. I'm holding it together, for now, because I need to tell this, and I need not to scream, else the library staff escort me out, before I'm done.

My father once told me, "Even the stupidest motherfucker got something to teach you." He was right, of course. As any wise person will tell you, every person you will ever meet will, in some way, no matter how miniscule, impact your life. You'll always leave the encounter having learned something, even if it's just to avoid people like that.

I was a friend of Meleanie's, and I learned something from her, though I didn't realize it then. Right now, I want to share my own piece of her with all of you.

We'd met a few weeks ago, in Dickson City. She was taking a course an hour away; she was excited about finally getting herself on track, after her daycare business suffered from the soccer game fiasco; she was getting into an armed security gig, and she was at a range, to qualify. We'd traded pm's, where I gave her the details on how to get to Dickson City, and where we'd meet. She was exuberant, except for the gun they'd given her to use to qualify; it was a Taurus, I can't remember what model. We'd both thought it was a little odd. "It's so tiny! Even with my hands, it's too small to hold onto! I did better than I thought I would." I congratulated her on doing well, but told her I was hanging up, because we were both driving, and I didn't want either of us to get into an accident. "Okay, then, the back of JC Penny's. I'll see you!"

Most of what happened that day has been already archived here, by the lady herself. But not the important things. Things like, how she greeted me like we'd been close friends for years, throwing her arms around me and kissing my face. I'd offered her my hand, but she looked at me, almost insulted, before her face broke into a biggest, goofiest grin her face could handle, exclaiming, "Are you kidding me? Come here, you!" She turned to my brother, and politely smiled, not quite as goofy, and shook his hand. "Well, I don't really know you, but hi, anyway!" The smile crept back.

She left out of her account us walking around the mall, drawing stares from the elderly, and getting a good laugh from the one lady who nearly fell over, trying to get a better look at what couldn't possibly have been a gun on the lady's waist. She'd forgotten to mention that she was skilled at dirty humor, without being vulgar, or that she'd made my brother a little uncomfortable as she held up a penis shaped thing in the back of Spencer's, while I was left to deal with the (polite) security guards of the mall.

As we walked on over to Border's, the conversation turned to family, and future plans. She mentioned divorce, but she thought that if she'd tried, her husband would go nuts; she was afraid, she said, of retaliation, not just by him, but all of his LEO buddies. She was also afraid that if something happened, his LEO buddies would side with him. There was a moment when she looked towards the horizon, and something crept across her face, something I hadn't seen before. But, I think, she realized I was looking, and she pulled out her smile again, casting fierce light on any shadow I might have seen. "So, Border's is cool for us to go to, right?"

We sat in the bookstore, looking at magazines: gun mags, tattoo mags, Fangoria mag, and others. What I remember most about this moment was how absolutely ordinary it was. Just three people in a bookstore, looking at magazines, having coffee. Nothing about guns, or open carry, or 2A politics, or any of that nonsense. Just three people, having idle chatter, about anything and everything.

Before she left, I produced a camera from my pocket. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

"I'm taking your picture. You know, in case I never see you again. I need proof that I met the girl who owned Bryan Miller on live television."

"No, no! I look horrible!"

"No, you don't, you look fine. I mean, aside from being albino..."

"Hey!" She punched my shoulder. "They kicked us out because I'm black, remember?" She looked at her phone. "I really need to get going. My husband's already in a mood. Hey, you'll definitely see me again, okay?"

"Sounds good, sistah."

Another goofy grin, the last I'd ever see from her, peered from inside her car. She waved as she drove off.

We called each other a few times, just to say hi, and to laugh about getting kicked out of Border's. The last time we spoke, her husband cut her off. What a dick, I thought. She wasn't kidding.

My hands are shaking as I write this, not because I'm grieving for her. My hands are shaking, my eyes are watery, and I want to scream, not for the horror that's happened to her and her children, but because, she tried to tell me, and I didn't hear her.

I should've heard her, I should've gotten what she'd meant. Maybe it was because she was so blunt about certain things, that I thought she couldn't have possibly been serious. People blow things out of proportion, right? They say they their spouse is going to end up killing them, when they know damn well that no one's killing anyone. People always joke about the horrible things they know won't happen. And some people, well, they just exaggerate the severity of things going on in their life. Right?

I didn't hear her because, well, because I'm an asshole.

I was a friend of Meleanie's. She was smart, she was funny, she was was brave, she was pale, and now she's gone.

I know now what it is I learned from her. I learned, that sometimes, a whisper is the loudest sound of all.

My hands are shaking, uncontrollably, as these tears, hot and bitter, roll down my face. There are people watching me, but I don't care. I really don't give a flying titty fucking Christ what they see.

But I won't scream. I will not scream.

Instead, I will sing.

EDIT: i think, maybe, if anyone has any stories about her, funny ones, sad ones, odd ones, maybe you should share them here. as was said earlier, one day, her children might read this; it'd be nice for them to get to know their mother, just a little bit better, through the eyes of her friends.

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