chapter nine
waiting for my real life to begin
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Thursday, April 14, 11:06 a.m.
Subject: busy
busy as hell,
client in the bay
when do we quit
and become farmers?
"Waiting For My Real Life To Begin"
Colin Hay
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Thursday, April 14, 1:11 p.m.
Subject: Re: busy
soon I hope…
can we have two dogs?
and a pig?
I always wanted a pet pig.
and a huge garden.
with lots of veggies.
mmmmm, and you have to wear
overalls and a cowboy hat.
sounds wonderful.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Thursday, April 14, 1:24 p.m.
Subject: Re: busy
hat and overalls?
hell yeah!
i want to grow everything…
tons of it!
veggies we’ve never even heard of…
and a barn…
i want a barn too…
and our house has to have a porch…
and a screen door…
i should smoke a pipe too…
when the day is done,
and we’re watching the last trace
of blue drain out of the sky…
will you play your guitar for me
in those last moments of the day?
oh, and you have to promise
never to wear shoes…
and have lots of babies…
one for every month…
Love means different things for different people. Anthony described a dizzy, inspired love. Mine meant certainty. For the first time, I felt the difference between knowing love and feeling love, between sincerity and sentiment. I felt it with him. I never told him that then. I was afraid to. Don’t laugh, but I saw us in the end of storybooks, the fairytale Emily believed in, the sentiment my coffee-shop friend confessed. Anthony and I were a happily-ever-after. Sure, there where moments Anthony had a tummy ache that would put him in a crabby mood or maybe I would spin out, over-think my actions and question if we were moving too fast — but honestly, it didn’t matter then. I was experiencing love instead of trying to figure it all out.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Tuesday, April 19, 2:48 p.m.
Subject: the simple life
the simple life you seek
is the one you are living…
to wake up with Gladys,
and flirt with love at work.
we spend so much of our lives
looking to the next moments…
working our asses off to get to that next level…
anticipating what it will be like…
in these moments. in these days.
i am happy. and i am content.
there is heartbreak.
sadness. loneliness.
of course…
but i want to enjoy these times,
need to enjoy these times…
i want to be in love.
beautiful love. crazy fucking love.
the kind of love
that deserves children…
lots and lots of children…
one for every month…
“july! wash your hands before you eat!
april… will you please put a shirt on
before you come to the dinner table…”
Looking back, we were running so fast. Anthony knew we needed to take a step back, and we did — sort of. For weeks we met less, e-mailed three times instead of eight. Drawn in blood, the friendship line gave us time to sort things out in our lives. To get us to where we both wanted to be. Of course we couldn’t stop flirting, but we no longer questioned our feelings or desires. We had a secret. No one needed to know how we were feeling. In those moments and in those days, we knew.
chapter ten
our way to fall
“He’s such an asshole,” I spat at Emily, then turned to Zach. “Did he ever take the time to think about what I wanted? That maybe, just maybe, I’d want to spend my birthday with him?”
Emily and Zach nodded in silence.
“Just because he’s telling me in advance,” I fumed, “I should be okay with it because he gave me ‘time to make other plans.’ Eff him. He missed my birthday last year for work, and is going to miss it AGAIN, just so he can visit his grandmother? He couldn’t do it ANY other weekend?”
“Your boyfriend is an asshole,” Emily stated.
“And he told me over the phone!”
“TOTAL fucker.”
“I can’t believe he’s missing my birthday again. Why would he decide to visit his grandmother that weekend? He didn’t even invite me!”
“Complete jerk.”
“When’s your birthday?” Zach questioned, hoping to settle us so he could continue editing.
“July twentieth!” I yelled.
“Well, it’s only June?” he ventured.
“AND,” I said, ignoring Zach, “after he gets back from visiting his grandmother, he’s going to Hawaii for work!”
Emily and I continued criticizing. Was I hurt? Not really, but kind of. I think I was just more dissatisfied than anything. This was the between-the-lines confirmation I needed, the agreement from friends that Five Year was in fact wrong for me. Sometimes you need that validation from friends. Or, at least I did.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Monday, June 13, 11:19 a.m.
Subject: feeling better…
can we have an illicit staircase rendezvous?
something? i need to see you.
like… now…
cause i fucking miss you…
“Our Way to Fall”
Yo La Tengo
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Monday, June 13, 11:20 a.m.
Subject: Re: feeling better…
how about lunch?
We stumbled upon a perfectly grassy hill at the park’s entrance and laid out our picnic lunch. The sun warmed my back as we unpacked our sandwiches. It was ideal: a picnic in the middle of a work-filled afternoon.
“Heard you were upset earlier today?”
“Zach told you?”
“Sorry.”
“That’s okay.”
“How you feeling now?”
“Better I guess,” I said. Anthony smiled. “Being on a picnic with you helps.”
“I thought it might.” His smile was saintly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know,” I fell back into apprehension. “I just feel like I’m wasting my time trying to make my relationship work. I know he and I want different things. I am trying to find my own independence, and strength. I’m tired of this unsatisfied feeling. I want deeper levels of intimacy, conversations, not television over dinner. I don’t know. You don’t want to hear this.”
“I’m still your friend, aren’t I?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you mean, ‘different things?’”
“I want to be married. Married to someone who adores me, can’t live without me. Not out of contentment but love. Someone who wants me as his wife — wants my children. Someone who wants me to come along and visit his grandmother, not just because I want those things, but because he wants them too. Someone who considers me in decisions. I don’t know. Maybe I’m asking too much.”
“It doesn’t sound like too much.”
“To him it is. For the past year I’ve tried to make it work between us, but I feel like love isn’t enough sometimes. There needs to be more of a foundation than
just love. You know?”
“No. I wish I did.”
“I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear this. We have enough complications between us. I’m a mess. I guess I just needed to vent.”
“Do you feel better?”
“Yes.”
“Can we enjoy our picnic now?”
“Yes,” still feeling a bit uptight.
I’m glad Anthony changed the subject to work agitations and creative disappointments, blaming his constant tummy ache to stress. I just watched his lips move and his perfect teeth, in love with the words from his mouth to me. His sweet eyes and pervasive smile had me laughing. He could do that — get me to laugh no matter my mood. It was a perfect afternoon. Sitting in the grass, legs crossed, shedding the day’s frustrations, my edges softened next to him.
With round full bellies we stretched out in the grass, bathed in sunshine, gazing at the clouds above. He offered an arm for me to rest my head.
“So, now what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I might take a break from my relationship and be on my own for a while. That was part of the reason I asked you for some space. I need to find my independence. Clear my head. I’ve been saving a little money… I am in a rut and I think it’s time to get out of it.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath. “I need more moments like these.”
…
Emily looked concerned. “Chas, there was a call for you at lunch. Your boyfriend has been in a car accident. He’s at Cedars Hospital.”
chapter eleven
it’s okay to think about ending
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Wednesday, June 22, 9:45 a.m.
Subject: early hours
sitting down to work,
thinking about you
always thinking about you
in the early hours this morning,
in that place between dreams and consciousness
i held you —
took you in my arms,
felt your hard edge soften
your pace slow to a stop
and it was good.
"It's Okay To Think About Ending"
Earlimart
It’s okay, to think about ending.
And it’s okay, to not even start
Put it away, wait ‘til tomorrow
Put it away, and take care of your heart
I don’t know how, but Anthony always found the perfect song to attach.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Wednesday, June 22, 2:07 p.m.
Subject: Re: early morning
thank you.
the past few days have
been overwhelming.
between the two hours of sleep a night,
and changing bandages…
I feel sick.
my boyfriend decided
he didn’t want his parents to come
and see him like this…
which means, I am the only help he has.
we’ve spent the last two days back at the hospital
getting MRIs and CAT scans…
luckily the news has been good.
his stitches won’t stop bleeding,
so we have to go to his doctor every twelve hours
for medication to help clot his blood…
right now he’s sleeping at the hospital
until his next dose of medication at 5 p.m.
my first break since tues.
I think I’ll sneak in a nap
before going back to the hospital.
I wish I had sweet words to send your way.
simple thoughts or phrases to ease your mind.
just know, that I too
am thinking of you.
“Reconstructive surgery just above his eye, a long cut that starts at his eyelid through his eyebrow. It’s twenty stitches long.”
“Is he okay?” Zach asked as he and I walked for coffee. Zach was a good listener. He had this way of making any hill feel less steep.
“He’s pretty banged up — has major cuts on his face from the windshield and burns from the airbags, plus a handful of bruises on his body. I’ve spent the last week changing bandages, and pulling out small pieces of glass from his forehead. It’s absolutely awful. The smell of blood, the crusty ointments…”
“Okay, that’s gross.”
“Sorry.”
“How are you holding up?”
“Like shit. I wish I didn’t have to do all of this. I’m not good with blood and needles and stuff.”
“Me, neither. I can’t imagine.”
“Yeah.”
“Nothing like a car accident to change your perspective.”
“You would think, but after surgery he was more concerned with leaving his computer in the car than finding new perspective. He started listing all the things that were ruined in the accident. His car, iPod, Blackberry, computer…”
“Are you kidding?” Zach turned to look at me seriously.
“No.”
“He’s lucky he didn’t lose one of these.” He pointed to his eye, dumbfounded by my response.
“Right.”
“Now what are you gonna do?”
“It’s not like I can break up with him. Can I?” I was staring at the ground, hoping the pavement would offer up some sort of answer.
“What about Anthony?”
I stopped walking and turned to look at him. “You know?” I had no idea Anthony had confided in Zach. I figured he talked to Jay, but I get it. Zach was someone who knew both of us, a good sounding board.
“Yeah, he needed to tell someone.”
“I suppose.”
“He really likes you, you know.”
“I know.” I sighed. “And I really like him.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I have no idea.”
“You should talk to Anthony. He’s worried about you, and not just for selfish reasons.”
Noise interrupted my thoughts as Zach opened the door to the coffee shop.
“I know. I will. Thank you Zach.”
“Tall or grande? You’re welcome.”
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Thursday, June 30, 6:21 p.m.
Subject: kinda serious…
I started an e-mail early this morning…
it was filled with small talk and frivolous chatter
which only filled the page with nonsense.
so I decided to start over.
to help reassure you,
and tell you again…
I adore you.
it comes in waves
for no reason,
but it fills me.
at night, especially…
when I close my eyes
I imagine you holding me,
wonder how we’d fit together.
and there are moments
when I want to walk into your bay
and kiss you…
and the only thing that gets me
through this, through this time,
is knowing I will have you. someday.
and I don’t think about
if we can survive…
I only think about
how nice it will feel
to finally let my guard down
with you.
so, until then…
I will
stay loyal
avoid rumors
and
distance myself…
while slowly gathering strength.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Sent: Thursday, June 30, 11:45 p.m.
Subject: Re: kinda serious…
thank you for the e-mail…
i can’t begin to explain
how much i needed to hear/read
those words and feelings…
to be reminded, to re
member —
it feels like something soft,
something good washing over me…
calming me, restoring me…
bringing me back
to the person i am.
it is a little scary
to feel how much you affect me
…
After the accident, Five Year acted like a spoiled child. Cried when something hurt too much, or sulked when he didn’t get his way. He became self-absorbed and focused on material possessions, his career, his appearance. Somehow the accident intensified it all. “Will you still love me if I have a scar on my face?” He lost track of anything he couldn’t claim; felt life ripped him off and deserving of more.
I’m not going to lie. Maybe I was looking for faults, but every action disgusted me. I thought he’d wrap his arms around me and confess his love, his devotion to me. I know it’s fucked up, but for a brief moment I believed this accident could be our second chance. I tried to right my wrongs by removing bandages wadded and covered with smears of blood and yellow stuff and little pieces of flesh. It was gross. I gagged. Yet, I thought if I took amazing care of him that he’d love me, tell me that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me — have babies — share everything he had with me…
“Hey, don’t forget I am going to Cleveland to visit my grandmother next weekend, then I’m going to Hawaii for work.”
“You’re still going?” You asshole.
“Of course I’m still going. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for weeks now.”
That was the moment I broke. I couldn’t stand him a second longer.
“I’m moving out.” I said it before I even thought it.
“What?”
“I can’t do this anymore.” I pointed back and forth from him to me.
“What do you mean you can’t do this anymore?” He repeated my gesture.
“I can’t be with you. I can’t keep pretending that I’m happy.”
“What?”
“When I first met you, I wasn’t thinking of marriage…”
“There’s that word again.” He rolled his eyes.
“I didn’t think marriage and a family were so important to me, but as I’m slowly finding myself, these things are important — you say you understand but you don’t. It’s not just a phase I am going through. I want more.”
“Why are you doing this to me? Especially now.”
“Doing this to you? I didn’t realize what a selfish jackass you can be. This car accident has only made you worse. I’m tired of changing bandages. And, I am tired of compromising. At the end of the road, you and I want different things. I see that now. We are not what I want anymore.”
Even if I Am Page 5