"somewhere other than inside the out there." -- part twenty-one.
i'm taking my time, because it seems sometimes that that's all that i have left. an empty tape of time, no music or images, just reels of time. it's all i have left to rely on, and even that has been proven fragile to me.
so, if you'll be patient, i can tell you the rest of the story, in my own time, as a withering woman would on the edge of her rocking chair cherishing three important things: whisky, cigarettes, and memory.
as good of a time as we were having in new orleans for that weekend, our hopes were beginning to sour in the realm of finding a suitable apartment. we threw around the idea of staying with his dad for a while. but that wasn't going to be best for anyone.
one night, his dad and his stepmom took us to a small mexican restaurant in the lower garden district. on our way there, we passed a gray door with a "for rent" sign on it. it couldn't be this easy. we laughed, but his stepmom wrote down the number anyway.
the next morning, he was going over the rentals in the classifieds, and i was trying to catch up in my modern american lit class. it was difficult to concentrate with all that sunshine and freedom waiting just outside his dad's front door.
i called the number and asked about room size and rent. i made an appointment later in the morning to look at it. boy looked over his newspaper with questioning eyebrows.
i shrugged.
boy was jittery as he drove his dad's car through the small streets. "it can't be this easy. this is uncharacteristic of our luck." and it was true, our luck was the best new orleans road, crunched and littered with potholes. but it had gotten us this far and kept us together this long.
he chainsmoked as we waited a long twenty minutes in the new orleans humidity, and he kept saying, "he's not gonna show."
a few minutes more, and a tired businessman, his shirt damp with sweat and sleeves rolled up, walked across the street, showing his fatigue with dealing with those younger than him.
boy leaned over and whispered, "lay it on, baby. you got the charm in this one."
i put on my huge retail smile and held out my hand as i introduced myself. known for my firm handshake, the dodgy businessman lightened up a little bit instantly. i straightened my posture and kept him talking.
he opened the door to a narrow staircase shadowed by dark wood walls. he mumbled up the stairs, and boy and i followed, feeling carefully with our feet for each next step. we took a small turn at the top and stopped short as he unlocked the apartment door.
the door opened to a burst of sunlight, and my hopes soared.
two nice rooms, huge kitchen, and plenty of space.
i asked all the appropriate questions that i'd learned from my father.
he told us about the neighborhood and asked if we were loud.
i told him our situation and our quiet habits. we didn't know anyone in the city. i would be graduating from college soon, and he would be a full time student down here at uno.
"you seem like the perfect tenants for this apartment, and i'd be glad to give a young couple their first place together."
we asked for the afternoon to think about it, knowing full well from boy's face that we didn't need to think about it.
we rushed back to his dad's house. he called his dad right away, and during the conversation, he turned to me for questions that he knew i would have the answers to.
i transferred the funds from our savings, plush with graduation money, to our checking. i called the business man and set up a time to sign the lease.
boy and i hugged, smiling. we couldn't stop looking at each other, ecstatic and unwilling to muster the patience to wait until august.
pushing our ink onto all the right lines, we achieved our first small apartment, just for us. there would be no roommates or three in the morning callers, just us.
as we left, the business man smiled and said, "i like you. i hope you and your husband plan to stay a while."
i just smiled. boy smirked at the word "husband."
back in boston, problems heaped around us, but we kept thinking of someplace warmer. i muddled through film shoots and my full time job and my part time nanny job and my modern american lit class that kept kicking my ass for no reason.
but every night, he would curl up next to me and tell me about how wonderful it would be.
graduation came, finally. and i look at those pictures now. a different girl with an honest smile. stupid git who had no idea what was coming to her, but happy in the moment. surrounded by friends and family. loved and accomplished.
i see the pale boston sky in those pictures, and i wonder how it was ever warm there. slowly, i begin to remember that i had this beating heart across from me that let me be warm. slowly, the friends' faces return to my line of sight, and i can remember honesty without persecution.
it's really hard to think that i probably don't smile like that any more.
(buddha, me, and boy - may 2001)
but i guess smiles fade too.
