griggs street ... part three

there was so much that happened in that week, month, year at griggs street that it's difficult to isolate certain experiences or occurances without delving into background and foreground and trying to explain to you all the posters on the walls or the music that was playing. trying to relive that atmosphere ... if only to let you in on such a largely small secret of time.

we'll start here i suppose... not at the beginning, nor the end... but somewhere in the middle. you know, where life is.

we didn't live gripping lives of adventure or triumph, merely mundane instances of college heartache and quarrels.

a friend of mine who was not privy to the circumstances of griggs began to feel a bit ignored and jealous of the time i spent over there ... i guess i expected a lot of understanding from people without much explaining. she called me heartless and terrible and a bad friend. how could i expect to stay close with those i loved if i just ignored them for a crappy apartment in the student ghetto? i was a wretched friend for thinking that she would stick by me without attention to the everyday maintenance friendships often require.

god, how that made me cry. i tried to explain myself, kick myself to death in front of her. she just raised her nose and said forget it.

i called boy. "what do i do?"

"you come here."

"ok."

i took a cab the five miles or so to griggs, and i collapsed in boy's room at some wee hour. the goth and the buddha were just smoking while the glam entertained them with funny stories. when i walked in, they all sat still and looked at me. i think it was the first time that they'd ever really seen tears coming from my eyes.

what happened? who did it? i'll kill them. why are you sad, babydoll? don't cry.

as i explained and confided, a change overcame all of their faces, individually.

she just doesn't understand. it'll be ok. we know you. you're a great friend. i've never met someone with so much love.

they all hugged me and cuddled my insecurities until it was a wash of sympathy coloring my world a nice sort of blue. i lit a cigarette with them, and we spent some time exchanging stories of friendships defunct.

when they all left the room, it was just boy and me. i was laying on my tummy on his bed, feeling pretty damn sorry and staring blankly at the marilyn monroe poster on his wall. small tears scattering down my cheeks incoherently. boy looked at me and put down the guitar he was absently strumming.

he walked over to the bed and lay down on top of my back. a boygirl sandwich, and i giggled lightly.

"you know, i really love you."

"i love you, too."

"i'm gonna take care of you."

"promise?"

"and you'll take care of me."

"promise."

and we laid there for a moment, feeling each other's breathing and thinking about anything but.

amazing what two friends could accomplish with so few words and so much care.

the first time we said i love you ... it wasn't because we were together, or because 'x' amount of time had passed, or because we wanted to sleep together, or because we needed something to say in moments of silence. it was because we were friends, and that's what friends do.