"somewhere other than inside the out there." -- part fifteen.
man, this is all really fucking with my head. lucky for you, i'm pretty used to it by now, and i know it's not going to stop any time soon.
to put it in another's words, "my reality won't die." you know how some people rely on smells or sights to bring them back to where they were? whenever i would catch whiff of a certain cologne, it was an h.g. wells extravaganza of my high school sweetheart. the last time i went back to denver, all of the buildings seemed to have shrunken from four years away from them, but they still swarmed over me in some dramatic liturgy of what happened back there. but as i've been telling you this story, this my only tale worth telling, i've been listening. i can't tell you about how the gloria record or joshua or the anniversary or the get up kids give me time, give me patience, and give me will to walk these halls draped in old canvas, abandoned for fear of change. you'll just have to trust me that for the full understanding or truth or emotion or mise-en-scene or whatever, "designing a nervous breakdown" or "four minute mile" or anything along those lines needs to be placed next to your eardrums as you close your eyes, inhale your cigarette. i don't want you to relive this with me, that's not why i'm sitting here. but if you're listening to anyone, it shouldn't be me. it should be them.
last night, i went to a show (purchase new york.) and ended up sitting on the floor with my boys after their set. i sat there and closed my eyes while my education was on stage. i walked those draped hallways from end to end, and i tried to remember better things. that's the strange thing about this, it's not hard to imagine why everything reminds me of him. they played a song that felt like finally dying after all this time.
i guess, what i'm trying to say, is that fine melodies and bass felt through floorboards and microphoned voices are my smells and my sights. they only bring me back to where i was and who i wanted to be.
anyway. back to the beginning of march and love and trust and kenmore square.
after he left that night, i sat there, leaning against my radiator next to the window, until someone knocked on my door. i had no idea how long i'd been there with my feet tucked under me and an unlit cigarette in my hand. i looked up, almost expecting the door to swallow whoever it was in one smooth movement. the knocking started again, and i looked at the door with a big question mark.
"yes?" i finally croaked.
the knocker slowly opened the door and poked her head around it.
"can i come in?"
"yes." and i pulled my feet out from underneath me. they were asleep and cranky. i located my lighter as one of my friends let herself in.
this girl and i had been pretty close through my sophomore and beginning of my junior year. she started dating one of my friends. they were happy couple number whatever.
hahaha, i remember, one day, i was walking with her down commonwealth avenue, and we were talking about our relationships. she told me something along the lines of "i mean, i think he and i could definitely get married someday. but it just seems like you guys won't last. i get the feeling that your relationship is fleeting." i also remember looking at her the way you look at a cat hacking up a hairball, all right in front of you and absent dignity.
anyway, she and my friend had just broken up that week, all tragic and shit from her end. but, by that point, i was much closer to him, and the way he told it ... well, tragedy wasn't really a factor.
she asked to bum a smoke. i gave her one. she had been crying, i could tell. i told her what had happened, calm and clear. i shrugged and did not cry. she kind of blabbered for a moment about how it was break up season or something. i sat through it and nodded a bit.
and then she looks at me, "when did all this happen?"
"we weren't looking." i lit my cigarette.
and it was true, i wasn't paying close enough attention. because leave it to me to put false security in the one thing that seemingly was progressing as normal.
a little while later, i told her i was going to bed. she left, and i was relieved.
i didn't sleep that night, or many of the nights after. to tell you the truth, i was kind of scared to go to sleep. i had no idea what was going to happen if i closed my eyes because i did stupid things like pray that it would be different when i woke up.
i'd given it all, and it wasn't enough. live with that.
i wasn't enough. he needed her too.
the next day, he called. he had promised me last week that we would go see 'titus' that weekend. he didn't want to break his promise.
that was enough for me to come extremely close to exploding him.
but i agreed, because i was coveting any time i got with him. so quickly, we get possessive and surging to claim what is so rightfully ours.
he picked me up, and we took the long train ride out to central square. we were close to quiet the entire time. we made the ten minute walk from the station to the small indie theater of cambridge. we sat and watched the movie. neither of us wanted to be there.
halfway through the movie, he turned to me and asked if i was ok.
"fine."
and shakespeare continued to hack away the rest of the twisted family.
i was cold and tired and scared and watching one of the most disturbing movies of our time.
"i'm fine."
i wanted to leave.
after the movie, we were sitting on the red line, silent. we waited for the b line in park street station with the most astonishingly mundane and safe small talk about the movie, about class, about anything other than now. we sat on the green line, and i said, "i'll just go back to my parents' when i get back from denver."
"no," he said, "no, you can still stay at the apartment." the next day began spring break, and i was going to denver for a much needed spoof of reality. the dorms closed for break, and i wasn't staying in denver the whole week.
"i don't know if i really feel comfortable with that."
"you'll feel more uncomfortable at your parents' place." it was hard to argue with that.
"are you sure?"
"yeah."
"ok." we sat some more. the green line was a slow motion battle scene. "so, last night..."
and he turned to the window, "yeah."
"what does that mean?"
"it means i need some time. we need a break." god, i hate that word. "i just don't deserve you. you're too understanding, too laid back, too easy on me, too good of a girl to be wasted on me."
he could not be serious. for the love of god, he could not be in any way serious. this had to be the worst punchline ever.
"i don't think that's a decision for you to make. you don't think i can decide who the hell is good enough for me? that's the most retarded thing i've ever heard." and i told him so.
"look, linds, just not right now. it can't be right now. i can't be with someone when i'm not good enough for them. i mean, jesus christ, i kissed her, and you're still here. i fucked up. i need time to figure out why."
"and i can respect that. but just to clarify things a bit, does this mean that we're seeing other people?"
"well, i'm not going to, i mean, you can if you want to, but i'm not. this time is for me."
i knew he was lying, and it made me flinch.
"ok," i said. "have a good break," i said. it was my stop. i didn't look back at him. i just stepped off the train and climbed those stairs to the busy street and then my tiny room and then to sleep.
fuck. i wanted him to follow me, to tell me that he was wrong, to walk through the door with me.
on the plane, i wanted to sleep and couldn't. i wanted to shut my eyes and pretend that it's just like it used to be. but i'm not a victim, and fuck'em if they can't take a joke.
i don't remember denver or what i did there or if it changed my mind about anything. i think i was kinda on auto-pilot. i got back to griggs, and i stayed there for a couple nights. i tried really hard to forget that i was sleeping without him. i left the apartment before he came back from whereever he was.
and then i waited. i waited and waited for him to be "ready" or whatever. for a while, i thought it was unfair that he got to run forward, and i was told to sit, stay, and wait. i spent my days wading and fiddling and fumbling through class, conversations, and cigarettes. the color was gone.
we talked, and we hung out a few awkward times for lunch or something like it. i knew he was seeing her. i knew he spent time with her alone in his room. i knew it because i did. i just knew. we never talked about it. i certainly didn't ask. i just waited patiently for him to come to his goddamn senses.
see, probably, any other girl in this situation would have had her fill, moved on, let it fall. i suppose you could say i'm persistent. or, i knew better. if he had been any other boy, then i would have probably acted like any other girl. but like i said, we weren't like that. before it all, we were friends. delicate balance and all that bullshit. i was not going to let him break my heart again. so, i just waited for him to come to those goddamn senses that i kept convincing myself he must have buried somewhere.
it took about three weeks.
i hadn't been over to the apartment. i talked to most of the griggs inhabitants, on and off for that time. they asked things like, "where are you" and "when are you coming back" and "why did you leave us." i just told them things like "sometimes, we don't decide."
one night, he came over to watch a movie with me. his idea, not mine. there was me and him and someone shaped like tension sitting right between us. we began to tease and tickle and wrestle, pretty typical behavior for 'before' but at that point well... it ... nevermind. either way, something that night made it impossible for us to stay away from each other for any longer, and it all came toppling down in this frantic sort of sex. we both knew that it wouldn't fix anything, and nothing was better.
a few days later, "i'm here, willing and waiting," i said. i could tell he didn't believe me. and i thought that i'd miss him once he realized that i was nothing special, when he was just like the rest of them. i'd miss him when he was laughing at me, too. things don't go my way, but have their way with me. it was going to be the way he'd communicate that i was nothing interesting. one day, his face would meld into the crowd. one day, i'd be sitting there alone, happy for any of the small pieces, scattered on the ground, that i could gather and salvage. life is a stream of consciousness, and i was positive that he would just get swept away in it all. but, i thought, he shouldn't worry, i'd be there the whole time.
and so, it was nothing. it was just the way he had ordered his damn meal. he got me without having to say he was sorry and without having to have a girlfriend and without having to be good enough for anyone. i silently thanked him for putting me in my place, any place.
we began to spend more and more time together, subtly scooting back into our old ways and that nasty, undeniable chemistry. my weekends were soaked up by griggs once again, and we were allright. sorta.
there was still this huge thing between us, just growing mold and unspeakable.
but like any wave, it came to a crest, all full of foam and loathing. hell hath no fury...
i was sitting at his desk, trying to finish up some homework terribly quickly or study for a test or something, and i was looking for a pen. he keeps all of his pens on him, and he was at work. i could have, should have, just walked into the living room and gotten a pen from the mass desk. i could have just stepped outside the door and asked his roommate for a pen. instead, without thinking, i began to burrow through papers on his desk, hoping to find a pen without having to get up from my work. i found a highlighter and threw it over my shoulder in frustration. then, my eyes hit a piece of paper unlike the rest. black ink and thick with handwriting that i'd never seen before. i leaned back and held the paper with his name on it. it was a letter to him from her. i got this pit in my stomach, and i decided to put it right back. i would have put it right back, but i saw this word, fluid and pointy like a barb ... "naked." i won't defend myself for reading it. i refuse to because i know about privacy and secrets and right and wrong and invasion. i read it anyway. it was the first and only time that i ever did anything like that. i put it right back where it was and called my friend who i was supposed to meet for lunch, saying i'd be late. i had to take care of something.
i put all of my books back in my bag after i still had not located a pen. briefly, i wondered why i didn't have one in my bag.
we had been back to ourselves. he would call me to come over. i would spend the night there. we acted like a couple, and he still wanted me to move in that summer. he wouldn't say the word "girlfriend" and i understood that we were still on trial.
i stood up, and i lit a cigarette.
this was a point of no return.
i put on my jacket because it was a cool april afternoon, and i headed out the door. i proceeded to the video store right across the small parking lot behind the apartment building. he had started working at the closer store, and it was only a forty five second walk from the back door.
"aren't you going to lunch?" he said when i walked in the door.
"let's have a smoke."
"k." and he followed me out. at this point, i was shaking. granted, i didn't know how old this letter was, but he still had it on his desk. it was more than incriminating, it was destructive.
"what's wrong?"
"what? why?"
"you're quiet."
"we need to straighten some things out. i need to know where the fuck i stand with you. you know, if i'm going to live in the dorm next year, my housing application is due in three days. if this isn't going to work, now is the time to tell me."
"what?"
"you need to make up your goddamn mind."
"about what?"
"about you and me. what the fuck are we? this facade of relationship one-oh-one is fucking ridiculous." my voice was rising. "i can't keep hanging around when you can't decide if i'm the one you want to be with. i'm certainly not going to live in that apartment through all of next year if you don't even have the balls to make a goddamn decision."
"where the fuck is all of this coming from? you want me to make a decision now of whether or not we'll be together in a year?"
"no, i want you to step up and tell me what we are right now. you introduce me as your friend. you don't bring me to any of the parties you go to for some strange fear that people will think that we're together. just fucking tell me what the hell i am to you."
"linds, i can't do that."
i just walked away. or i stormed. either way, i must have been getting smaller and smaller from his perspective. he ran after me, grabbed my arm, and spun me around.
"what the fuck is this? you just walk away? you're problem is right here in front of you, fucking face it. stop running."
we were screaming at each other on the sidewalk, making one of those "scenes."
"i need you to ... look, i can't just wait around for you."
"if that's what you..."
"you and i both know that that's what i've been doing. it's not fair. it's just not. we'll talk about this later. i'm late." and i walked away. he didn't follow me. i didn't want him to.
my friend, the one that my weepy girlfriend was dating, and i began to hang out more. he was a great solace. right after we met, we realized that we had the same major, and we had planned our entire schedule around each other. he was the only person in the entire film school that i could stand, let alone hang out with. somehow, he knew just how to be. we were shooting our second films of the semester, and we constantly found ourselves sitting in a coffeeshop for hours writing. he and i, we wouldn't say a word to each other for immense periods of time. we would just sit and write, comfortable and secure that the other was there. he quickly, and rightfully so, became my best friend (and remains so to this day).
one mid-afternoon, we sat at the window bar of the bagel shop centered in kenmore square and watched the busy little bees of boston wingedly scurry in and out of kenmore station as we ate our lunch.
"you know what i'd really love to see right now?"
"him and her walking hand in hand."
"yeah."
"why?"
"because it would somehow validate all of the awful things i'm feeling right now."
"you don't need justification." but i'd be vindicated, relieved, sickened, destroyed ... finally. "you need to talk to him. you have to tell him. if you can't trust him, he has to know that."
"i'm not going to tell him about it. this has been coming to this for a long time. that wasn't the reason, it was just a nudge."
"you need to talk to him." he was quiet. "you know, you deserve better. he should treat you like a queen."
i just put my head on his shoulder and played like i knew what he was talking about.
"whatever."
all that time, and i never did tell him about that day. i didn't feel like i had to. i keep my mistakes to myself if i can. i wouldn't have ever read it if i had known what was in it. i don't even care if that doesn't make sense.
ignorance truly is bliss, but, at the same time, you can't keep lying to yourself or letting someone else lie to you. truth is, i knew about all of it before i read that letter. i knew about almost everything. i just knew. and i knew that i couldn't dress up and play the part of the victim. i wasn't going to let myself be a victim, not while i could help it.
we both had to face facts. we had to face each other. we couldn't let love just go off on its own, but we couldn't babysit it either. i felt like my only choice was to let him finally step up and put me in my place, whereever it was.
i was sitting on the edge of a building, smoking a cigarette, ready to jump, but i had to wait for him to jump with me.
