"somewhere other than inside the out there." -- part twenty five.

the apartment was small and to the point, but we rejoiced in the splendor of being alone, together.

on warm humid nights, we would climb out our living room window and sit on the roof, watching everything pass by, observing the mass of people that lived in the house across the street, or killing time with some beer and cigarettes. we honestly couldn't have asked for anything better, any way to better be. if that makes sense.

we spent long evenings on his father's porch, waxing as we waned and all that. he would peel the label off of his beer bottle, and i would take another coke. i wasn't much of a drinker back then. didn't really have anything to run from, didn't really care to lose control. things change, i guess. that's what they tell me anyway.

i suppose the first real thing that happened after we lived there was on the morning of september eleventh.

we were both sleeping, and neither of us had found jobs yet. boy had just started school at uno, and i spent my days hating my own concept of wasted time and looking for a job.

the phone rang early, and i answered it, thinking, half asleep, that it was a call for a temp agency i had signed up with.

our friend, philosopher, panicked, said "they just flew a plane into the world trade center and the pentagon."

i said, "so what's the punchline?" it was not uncommon for phone calls to start with a joke. and i was still asleep, truly.

he said, "no, really, it's all firey..." and he went on to describe what he was seeing on tv.

i shook boy and told him what was happening.

"are they bombing new orleans?"

"no."

"wake me up when they are."

i scurried into the living room and flipped to one of the non-god channels that we got with our small antenna.

boy eventually realized that i wasn't kidding and joined me on the couch.

we sat there all day, like every other american.

that night, we went to his father's house and sat in front of the tv there.

we all know what happened that day and after.

needless to say, neither of us could find jobs for a few months. the instant hiring freezes seemed to crawl over the classifieds.

but soon enough, as our savings began to dwindle, i found a full time position at the portrait studio and remained there for the rest of my stay in new orleans. why? because that's what my college degree got me.

somehow, we prevailed. somehow, through all the daily dailies, we kept pushing each other.

remember what i said? about love creating or revealing your desire to map something? it's true. every time i thought i was losing faith in our relationship, in our ability to remain, one of us did something incredible and sent us off to the races again. he said that it was the same way for him.

the hard thing was that we didn't have any friends outside of each other. we were each other's social network. very rarely did we leave the house without the other one unless it was for work or school. strangely enough, we were pretty content with it. we were best friends before we were anything else. delicate balance and all that, but we truly were everything to each other. and more than i wanted everything in the world for him, he wanted everything in the world for me.

we would sit at the coffeeshop up the street, and we would read or write. every once in a while, we would look at each other and smile, and then, go back to what we were doing. that's something i remember. the comfort of silence.

three in the morning sometimes, i would look over at him and say, "canpakes."

"now?"

"canpakes."

he would laugh and grab his keys. we would drive to the allnight diner and get me my pancakes. it was good like that.

we didn't need anything else. we had our two cats. we had our music. we had monthly bills. we were an old married couple before we even had a chance to get started on it.

see, when i had this thing, it seemed unnecessary to have anything else. it just was. i know, that sounds like a pretty half-assed explanation, but it just was. he was mine and i was his and what else could it have been?

we lived together for two and a half years. we knew each other's habits and didn't necessarily mind them either.

there was no need for anything else.

we talked about silly things like marriage and kids, and then we decided that we'd learn how to take care of ourselves first.

he still opened doors for me, and i bought him tattoos.

it was just the way it was supposed to be.

so it goes.

my god, the way it fucking goes.