Part 12 - 5 Days After
"The trick is to keep breathing." Garbage, Keep Breathing
I just stood there and stared at it.
Frozen.
Completely unable to move.
I was bewildered, confused, amazed… any number of things. You name a state of utter bafflement and there’s a strong possibility that, at that moment, I was it. I mean, how could this have happened? I had it all stitched up, man! I held it together, I steeled myself completely. All that I had been through, all that I had endured, and THIS was what broke me? A sweatshirt? I mean, come on… There were at least one hundred different things that should have shattered my resolve before that stupid piece of clothing.
For instance, the drive back from Savannah two days ago – It was certainly no picnic, to say the least. It had warmed up considerably for our return home, the memories of cloudy skies and frigid air passing easily in favor of all seventy of those beautiful, sun-drenched degrees. She sat in the passenger seat and slept most of the way, looking every bit the angel I wanted her to be. The good part – at least I could finally listen to my own music (if I had to listen to even one more Moby song, I swear to God, there would have been murders). The bad part – I had nothing else to do besides listen to those songs I’d compiled just for her, thinking about a future in which all those tunes would bring back memories of that moment, driving along I-75 North back to Atlanta with a girl I couldn’t have (which, of course, made me want her even more) asleep in my passenger-side seat. It was tough… Oh, man, was it tough – but I stuck through it.
Then, there was last night, her last night here. We went to dinner with my “friends”, and Mike, the ever-observant asshole that he is, noticed that Katherine and I were wearing the same style shoes – shoes he’d hence referred to as the “Nike Air Katherine.” Juan, of course, had to leap on this juicy little bit of ammo as soon as it was brought up – and before I could even say a word defending the purchases, Katherine leapt in and took over. She very articulately argued that it was none of their business what I purchased, that we had happened upon the shoes while completely separate from one another and it “Just so happened that we found them, a true testament of why we are such good friends.”
Friends. The word sliced through me like a scalpel through Jell-o. God, I wanted so badly for her to love me. Here was this girl who stood up for me; defended me against perhaps the only person on the planet who was capable of getting to me. How could I not want her? My sorrow had to be written all over my face, because my sister gave me a look of sincere condolence and patted me on the shoulder. And even then, I didn’t break down, I didn’t fly apart.
That night, as I slept in another room while Katherine slept in mine, I kept myself strong and held myself together. I didn’t sleep a wink, but I also didn’t shed a single tear. A small victory, to be certain – but one nonetheless.
And the airport – if ever there was a chance for me to emotionally crack apart, it was there. Looking into her eyes and saying goodbye, knowing that they’d said goodbye to me long ago… Listening to her thank me for such a wonderful time, telling me how she’d never forget me and how special I was. I could have fallen apart while watching her board the plane, or while staring out of the terminal window like a left-behind puppy as it taxied down the runway and took off. You’d think that, at some point during this scenario, that the faucet would open and my eyes would just pour. But no – I even held together then. No cry, no shed no tear.
Driving home from the airport, listening to those songs I’d listened to on the way home from Savannah – man, that would have been a prime time. Jeff Buckley should have brought some sort of nostalgia for times recent passed; Luscious Jackson should have stirred some pang of loss. Yeah, it sucked to listen to those beautiful melodies and lyrics about lost love, but it didn’t sock me in the gut the way I thought it would have.
Despite every look she refused to hold and regardless of the hints of her simply being kind when she said “I love you, too,” I stayed glued together. No, the only thing that could do it was a simple lump of clothing lying in a crumpled heap on top of my waterbed. The black sweatshirt had a gigantic red and white sun on the back, with the words “Search and Destroy” written in Times New Roman in an arc over the sun. On the front were the words “Part Animal, Part Machine” on top and “Rollins Band” beneath. It was lined in fleece and was a size 2XL, the perfect size for me but about 4 sizes too big for the person whom it was given to. I’d left the shirt for her in her suitcase without her knowing, my gift to her to remember me by. She’d left it on the bed without my knowing, her gift to me to remember
her by.
I didn’t have to pick it up or even get near it to know it smelled like her – in fact, I didn’t even have the opportunity to try. After staring at it for several minutes, my stomach tied into a crippling knot and my knees buckled as if they were kicked from behind. I hit the floor like a rock, and for the next hour and a half, it was all I could do to breathe. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that it wasn’t so much the actual article of clothing she left behind that tortured me as much as what it represented. It, like my heart, wasn’t mine to give, so much as it was hers to either take or leave. I’d signed it over to her before she even came down here – that’s how badly I wanted her to have it.
Regardless of whether or not she wanted it.
It was about two in the morning when I barely heard the cricket-like chirping of my cordless phone. The fact that I’d forgotten to unplug that one immediately dawned on me as it sounded a second a second time. The decibels produced by Miles Davis blowing the soul out of his horn dwarfed those of the tiny electronic device, but as it rang for a third time, my mind blocked out every other noise in the room and locked on it. I stared at it from across the dark room, the red “announcement” light flashing with each chime.
Don’t answer it.
Why not?
You know why not.
No I don’t. Tell me.
Don’t be ridiculous, Joe.
No, YOU don’t be ridiculous. Tell me why I shouldn’t answer that phone.
Because it’s her
. You know it’s her, and you know why she’s calling. She’s home and safe and that’s all you need to know right now.
But she’s expecting me to answer it. Besides, I really want to talk to –
NO.
WHY NOT?
Don’t you think you’ve dashed yourself against her rocks enough already?
Dashed myself… What the fuck are you talking about?
Joe. You know what you’ve done, and you know what you’re doing.
I do?
You do.
Ok, yeah, you’re right. I do. I’m sitting here holding a conversation with myself about whether or not to answer the phone and talk to the girl I love while my phone rings a fourth time.
Ah. So you love her.
Yes.
That’s it, then.
Yes.
What do you know about her?
Pardon?
You say you love her. What do you know about her?
I know that I love her.
Knowing that you love her is not knowing her. What do you know about her?
... Fuck you.
I think you mean “Fuck Me.”
Yes. Fuck you.
Fine, fine…. Do what you want.
I will, thank you.
Apparently, what you want is to ignore the phone like I suggested. Fifth and final ring’s coming up.
I know.
I thought you wanted to answer it.
I do.
Then why are you still sitting in this corner across the room?
I don’t know.
Well, you have about three seconds to get up and answer the phone before it – OOPS! There it is. Make it about one
second.
I stared at the red light as it, along with the final ring, began to fade away – If I didn’t act quickly, it’d roll over to voicemail and that’d be that. With one quick motion, I rolled forward to my knees and leapt across the room, snatching the phone from its cradle.
“Hello?” I said with far too strong a sense of immediacy.
“Hey,” the voice on the other side of the line said flatly. “What’s up?”
I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily. “Mike,” I said strongly, “Why the fuck are you calling me?”
“Your music’s too loud. Turn it down,” He replied.
“You couldn’t come across the hall and tell me that?” I asked.
“Didn’t you want to be alone?” He asked in reply.
“Well… Yeah. But you could have come across the hall for that.”
“I didn’t know,” He said. “I never know with you… especially lately.”
My eyebrows furrowed and I clinched my fists. “What’s THAT supposed to mean?”
I heard him sigh into the phone, followed by an emphatic “Nothing. Nothing at all. Oh, Hey – you left your shoes in the living room.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Um… yeah, you did. I just saw the Air Kay… er, um… The new ones, laying in front of the couch.”
“Well, so what if I did?” I asked with a righteous indignation.
“Personally, I don’t care,” he replied. “But Juan’s gonna be home in the next hour or so, and given his feelings about not only shoes in the living room but about the whole “Katherine” thing, you’d probably better get them.”
I sighed. “I don’t give a shit, Mike. Let him get angry. What happened between Katherine and I is our business… His opinion doesn’t matter, and he should just keep his nose out of –“
“Look,” he said, cutting me off. “He’s your friend – as am I. We are only looking out for you.”
“Right,” I replied with a sneer. “Choosing not to support your ‘friend’, instead taking every opportunity to rip on his girlfriend is looking out for him.”
“She’s your girlfriend now?” He asked. “Since when did THAT happen?”
“Since… Wait. You know what? Fuck you. I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“Look, you’re acting like a total fucking retard here,” Mike said flatly. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
“Doing WHAT to myself?” I demanded.
“You know what,” he replied.
“No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?”
“You keep finding replacements. For
her.”
I stood still, unable to reply.
“Well?”
“Well, what?” I said indignantly.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“Yeah,” I stated, “Fuck you. You keep harping on that one subject, even though you KNOW it’s not true.”
“No, it’s just that YOU won’t accept it.”
“You obviously don’t know shit about me.”
“I know more about you than YOU know about you, apparently,” Mike answered. Just then, a sharp tone echoed through the receiver. I flipped it over and saw “K. Miller” written across the Caller ID display.
Don’t answer –
FUCK OFF. I’m answering it.
“Gotta go, call waiting,” I announced to Mike. Before he could say anything, I pushed the flash button and picked up the waiting call. “Hello?” I said in a calm and soothing voice, attempting to flush from my mind the recent exchange with my “friend”.
“Hey, I’m home,” Katherine said, a hint of exhaustion on her voice.
“Good,” I answered. “Wait – not good, as in ‘I’m glad you’re not here,’ but…”
She chuckled. “I knew what you meant.”
“Ah. Okay. Um… Good,” I said lightly. She laughed in response. “So, um… was the flight good?”
She sighed. “It was okay, I guess. Bad food, dumb movie… You know how it is.”
“Yeah, I do… I sure do…” I searched for something to say. “But hey – at least you landed in good weather. According to the Weather Channel, it’s going to be sunny and pleasant all week in San Francisco.”
I could hear her smiling from the other side of the phone; from the other side of the nation. “You checked the weather here? Ahh, Joey… You’re just adorable.”
“I love you,” I blurted out. I received no reply.
We both sat there silently, breathing into the phone at one another, neither of us having a clue where to go from there. To me, this felt like a breakup, but on good terms and with no overtones of actually breaking up. To her… Well, who knows what she was thinking. I certainly didn’t.
“Well, I’ll let you get some sleep – I know you need it,” I said, releasing her from her obligation to reply.
“Alrighty,” she answered. “I’ll probably be offline and unavailable for a few days. I have a LOT of things to catch up on, work and school and whatnot… You know how it is.”
“Yep,” I replied. “Sure do.”
“Take care, Joey,” She said with a whisper.
“Yeah,” I barely managed to reply. “You, too.”
And with that, I laid the phone on the cradle and myself upon my bed and let Miles take me away into the night.
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