"somewhere other than inside the out there." -- part seventeen.
i have no slight of hand or delicate grace to speak of. i am tall and open, breathing, alive, and usually inappropriate. it's impossible for me to hold things back or feel obligated to be tactful. i am the most graceless person that i know.
when i tell stories, i stumble and falter and usually laugh at all the wrong places, my own jokes falling hard to the floor with an uncomfortable echo. but, it is my way, and thankfully, people usually find it an awkward sort of charming.
i've found myself in the rare predicament of telling many stories in the past week. something in the water, i suppose, but my friends have been asking a lot more questions than usual.
not the point.
downtown with a few friends last week, at a bar that i adore and have adored since i first set foot in its dingy, avail and weezer jukebox ridden doors, i was watching my friends play pool. i had put a few songs on the jukebox... toadies, the ramones, pixies, and unwritten law, all songs that scream about boy to me. i looked at one of my closest friends here in austin, and i smiled and said, "it's his night at the ritz." and he looked at me and smiled and said, "he would have really loved this place." for some reason, that struck me, high and hard, somewhere along the jaw. first, because he, of course, would have loved that bar, and it's the one place in austin where if he's anywhere in austin, it's there. second, because my friend never knew my boy, but he knew that. it struck me so close to awe, knowing that someone got something like that only from my stories of him. i tried not to cry.
not the point.
point? nevermind, i'll get on with it all.
i worked long and hard all summer, becoming close to insanity, but he kept my head steady. we still stayed up into the morning light talking, becoming one voice without bodies or purpose. the windows were open, and we didn't need air conditioning. boston fast paced around us, as we fell deeper and deeper into each other, opening chasms to unknown distances and closing onto some truths that will forever remain between us. it was honest. it was true. and most importantly, it just was.
unlimited and unafraid, we poured into each other and accepted this maddening sort of love that neither one of us could readily explain ... finally, we were able to graciously accept the frustration of the inability to put it all into words or definitions. we took care of each other.
finally, we were spending our energies creating rather than destroying.
finally, we were able to laugh at the petty shit.
finally, we were able to be together without false pretense.
and finally, we were able to say, "fuck'em if they can't take a joke."
before summer, we had been so very very serious. taking life as some sorry drawn out ballad, rather than the joke that it is.
the warmth took it all away, and finally, we were left with a beautiful, cumbersome honesty that we, both, enjoyed to its upmost capacity.
and christ, how we clung to that. rightfully so. and to us, we were the only chance the world had left to be decent, honest, and punk rock.
we just were.
september came, and i began my senior year at boston university. boy began class again, with more heart and diligence and with fewer drugs and less disgust.
i was still working thirty hours a week on top of my terrifying course load. i was stressed and loved hating it. with renewed vigor, he began his major in political science and journalism, bringing home entire new theories to destroy and discard in our conversations. we were alive and the only three dimensional figures on a blue screen.
to every rose, the goddamn thorn and all that.
it was the end of october. it was chilly but not cold. i began to get nervous after a week. i was not clockwork, and i could not set my wristwatch by my body, but a week was a long stretch, even for me.
he was at work. i got home from class, and i went to cvs and straight to the back where the pharmacy was. i went home, and i put it in my desk drawer. i took it out and put it on my desk. i stared at it. the phone rang. i drank a large glass of water while i talked to his best friend for a seemingly long time. these were the times we got to talk, when he called and boy wasn't home. finally, when i had to pee, i got off the phone and took it out of it's light blue packaging.
when he came home from work, i was sitting in the middle of my floor, afraid to light a cigarette. he came back to my room, and he saw me there, unlit cigarette in my hand.
"baby? what's wrong?"
i told him to sit down. he sat down with his knees touching mine. i told him that something was wrong, and i told him that i had to tell him something. i could almost see the images doing a click whir thing behind his eyes as he stared at me for a solid thirty seconds. before i said anything, i could see that his mind finally clicked the correct image into place that would make his eyes mirror mine. before i said anything, he said, "you're pregnant?"
i nodded, and i didn't want to cry, but i did. and we sat on that floor, and he had me in his arms as we both started to cry, unsure why. maybe it was because this was something that we wanted eventually, but that the timing couldn't be worse. maybe it was because we couldn't imagine ever bringing a life into this world that we hated so much. maybe it was because we couldn't express all of the conflicting emotions in any other way.
"i'm going to take care of you," and he said it over and over again, "i'm going to take care of you."
we didn't talk about it anymore that night. we just went to sleep and loved each other tightly with arms that couldn't hold the problem but could only hold each other.
the next day, i went to class and to work, and so did he. we came home, and we sat down, reasonable and ready to talk about it. it was the worst and hardest discussion that either of us had ever had. every option that we had crossed our lips, but we were honest with ourselves about where we were in life and who we were as people right then. it was a long time later that we reached the inevitable conclusion. through adoption, through keeping it, through deciding later, we knew that we couldn't do this and be honest.
we could have gotten married, and we would have done it in an instant had we thought that it was the best possible thing we could do for ourselves and a baby. we could have kept it, but we weren't financially or emotionally prepared to give a child the kind of life that we both knew we wanted to give it. i could have never given my baby up for adoption. it's selfish, but there was no way that i could have said goodbye to my baby.
one sunny afternoon, it was a friday, i sat in the living room, and i called planned parenthood. i didn't know what to say when she picked up. i had no idea how to gracefully say that i needed something taken care of, that i needed an abortion. all i could say was, "i'm pregnant, and i need help." she was calm and dignified, and she asked me each of the necessary questions to help me communicate what i needed.
the next week, boy and i walked down to packard's corner at nine in the morning, and i stopped to throw up once in the bushes. my morning sickness had gotten wretched, to the point where i couldn't eat before three in the afternoon. i was shivering, although it was a pleasant morning. he just put his arm around me, and said, "i know, baby, come on, we'll be ok."
we got to the clinic, and we waited for two hours. i went back to talk to one of the counselors. i did the urine sample. i sat with my boy, who was holding me tighter than ever before. we were both thinking, "we could stop this right now. we could..." but, my name was called, and i was taken into another waiting room to change and be with six other girls who were wearing variations of the same skimpy robes.
through the procedure, i was awake but sedated, and i just tried to hear his voice in my head.
when it was over, i was shivering and sweating, and i couldn't stand to climb into the wheelchair. they lifted me into it and took me to recovery.
laying in that reclined chair, i had some of the most comforting ginger ale and graham crackers of my entire life as my body contorted cramps that no one should have to feel. i could stay as long as i liked, and i did, secure under the white blanket that i thought could protect me against an entire army. when i was ready, i told them to go get my boy. i missed him, and i needed him. i told them i didn't need the wheelchair, and i walked slowly to the waiting room. i wanted my boy, i needed him. my boss had come to pick us up, and i had told her everything in confidence. she didn't want us to take a cab back, and she insisted on coming to pick us up. everyone else in our life, except our closest friends, thought i was having a stomach procedure done. boy had run to get my prescriptions filled for my recovery. she helped me to the car, and he came running out of the supermarket next door when he saw us out front.
later she told me that he was a nervous wreck, fidgeting and chain smoking. he couldn't stand the lack of control and the worrying about me.
she took us home, and he helped me to the couch. he sat with me and stroked my hair as i drifted in and out of pain and sleep.
our roommate came home, and he knew. he brought me monty python and more graham crackers. boy kept running to cvs to get any snack that i thought i could keep down. "you've got to get your strength. you have to eat."
i took the whole week off of school and work, and although i could have gone back a few days later, i gave myself time.
the next morning, my friends came to see me with flowers and smiles. i was overwhelmed with support and love.
my boy sat with me and talked to me, and we grieved in our own way for what we had lost, for the decision that we had to make.
i know it's hard to understand, and it was for me too. hell, it still is. there's not a day goes by that i don't think that we could have a little thing running around, almost three years old this summer. but at the time, for the time, it was the only right decision. it's taken a long time for me to be able to even try to understand that.
i have no regrets, only questions.
every morning and through everyday and as i dream every night, what might have been is something that i try to wash away with the trickle of hope for tomorrow and the confidence that everything happens for a reason.
i am able to do that because we made the decision together, as equals, and with every emotion we had in mind, with every possibility running through our heads. it was something that i would have never left him out of, and it was something that i never would have disregarded his opinion on. we were together, and our responsibilities overlapped.
and he kept his promise, he took care of me. and i will never forget that.
and so autumn was. and so we were. together and amazing, one voice.
now playing ... explosions in the sky (the earth is not a cold dead place)
heads :: tales
