(no subject)
the day that dameon left was the last day of the week in which he hardly left my house. it was hot that day; the cloudless sky made up for the lack of humidity - and in my house, the air conditioner downstairs attracted the inhabitance of members of the family (related or non) who usually never bothered to dwell in the same room as someone else. nonetheless, dameon and i sat, the sad and unambitious lumps of the residence, on the worn down, burnt up, sunken in two-person couch of the garage; the only place out of sight from my family, whom neither of us wanted anything to do with at the time. between the two of us, i'm positive i was most bothered by the heat, as dameon, clearly and obviously in charge of the goings-on of that day, never made a gesture that hinted his desire to migrate to a cooler room. so, we sat together and smoked. i got coffee, and i offered some to him. he didn't want any. i walked out to the pool occasionally to splash water in my face. he sat in his sweat. i felt like all the ragged and flustered emotions of his body were a part of me. actually, i think a little bit of him washed over everyone that day. his silence took ahold of everyone he was around, and in the garage we went about two hours saying hardly anything. he breathed heavy, sniffed a lot, and occasionally asked me nicely to get him some tissue. it was a sad scene. eventually, he spoke up. "well charlie, i think by this time tomorrow i'll be gone. you understand, right?"
"of course i do", i said. "you've gotta get out of here. there's nothing left for you. there's nothing left for either of us, but you've gotta get over jessie."
"certainly", he said. "i've definitnely got to do that."
a few minutes later, he started to cry. his eyes swelled up and big salty drops of moisture fell down his face and all over his shirt. he'd never cried in front of me before, but he did it beautifully and comfortably nonetheless. he asked me for some more tissue and i got it. after he blew his nose and wiped his face he laid his head down onto my shouldern, and probably closed his eyes. i thought about how beautiful he was and about how cruel and fucked up my sister is. neither of us made much of a mention to her.
when he was finished crying, he said his goodbyes to my family and gathered all the things he had stored in my room. we listened to Volcano, I'm Still Excited! on the way to his house, and by the time we reached town, his spirits were almost so entirely reversed that he nearly died in hysterics when we saw a very tan shirtless guy with a golden beach volleyball goatee walking down the road with a cooler and a basketball in his hand. i don't know, i guess that's just how he is. he's fucking crazy. when we got to his apartment we spent the rest of the afternoon listening to old Christmateers and Waggy Bears albums one last time, and i think we even played a few for the jolly times. when cory arrived at the crack of dusk, the three of us talked a lot, smoked a lot of pot that his neighbor gave us because he was leaving (lame going away present), and laughed almost continuously throughout the night until we no longer could. early in the morning, about two or three o'clock, we were all tired, and decided to play a few songs before cory and i left so dameon could pack his things and sleep for a few hours until his ride to marquette arrived. dameon suggested we play cory and i's songs, but we insisted on playing his since, first of all, they were much better, and second of all, since cory and i knew the backing vocals so fluently. so we all sang. when we decided on 'backseat music' for the last one, i was so choked up in the middle of it that i nearly had to leave the room. i thought i was the only one, but when the song ended, and i looked up at dameon, i saw that his eyes were puffy again and that there was a stready stream of tears slipping down his face. we all sat very sadly and quietly, and when cory and i decided that it was time to go, dameon walked us out to our cars. when dameon hugged me, i smelled that very distinct musk that his body had always naturally produced, and thought about all my stages of opinions on it; despising it, not noticing it, and then wishing it for myself. he told me that he loved me, buddy, and that he'd miss me. i told him i loved him and would miss him, and that i hoped we would see eachother soon. he did the same to cory, said goodbye to the both of us, and as he walked back up to his door cory said, "say goodbye to dameon."
"goodbye to dameon," i said sternly.
"hey, i heard that," he said, and walked through his door.
when i got home, i laid in bed and stared at his drawing of george clooney on my wall, and fell asleep with the fan on.