Breaking up
I love plinking away a simplified version of some tune in my head, absentmindedly, and realizing a few seconds in that it's one of Sam's songs.
These past few days have been insane. Not sane. Stupidly crazy. I should be doing work but I'll get this out in a condensed version now.
Thursday was my first final. I had stayed up the entire night before, trying to finish my Folksong and Ballad paper, as well as my Book 2.0 paper. I had planned on going to Sam's that night and warned him that it might be late because I still had to go home and shower and I hadn't even had time to pack any clothes before I had to fly out the door and hope the morning rush hour hadn't begun. I ended up emailing Kari at about 5:00AM pleading for an extension.
Got to school, didn't feel confident at all. But I received Kari's email, which was incredibly understanding. And I had some contact with Sam. And I felt plenty better.
Took the final...I'm thinkin' I got a "C," which I was...alright about. But she haded back our research papers that day, and not only did I get an "A+" on a paper which I thought was total crap - well-structured crap, but crap - she also wrote this at the end:
"An astute analysis and a great pleasure to read. I am consistently made proud of my own contributions to your impressive intellectual development."
I could have cried, I was just floored.
Ridin' that high, I went into the undergrad lounge and just cranked out as much of that Folksong/Ballad paper as I could.
Then it was about 7PM and I hit a wall. I was missing Sam (preoccupied with the thought of Sam) and I knew it would be okay if I turned this paper in the next day.
Got home, speed-showered, plugged in the computer and prepared to rattle out one more page before I left.
Then Evan came home. Everything was fine - he was in a great mood from the students in his TA groups. We started talking, and somehow the conversation turned to "us" - what "us" used to be and has become, and I think he mentioned something about talking to his sister, and I asked glibly, "man, what does she think of me now anyway?" and his mood visibly chilled after that. He picked a fight. Then he asked if I felt like I was taking advantage of him. His common script for the past year. You take advantage of me, there's no incentive for me, you don't appreciate me...etc. And what he has consistently meant by "me" is something more like "my money." I have hated that money means so much to him, but tried to understand since that's what he grew up with. His dad is the Patriarch. Like I have replied intermittently for the past year, I said "YES, YES OF COURSE I know I'm taking advantage of you." - There had been few other options for me. But we both knew and we both acknowledged it to an extent, but every once in a while he would just not listen to me, continue his script, resent me and loathe me.
This time it was different, it was more.
He blew the fuck up.
Unplugged his netbook from under my hands, took it away, took away everything around me that was his,
screamed "GET OUT. GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE." stood up close to me like he was this far from just...
I lost it. Went outside to call my mom in frantic disbelieving tears. I think he followed, but went back inside after he saw she answered.
My mom immediately, without hesitation offered to come get me, come get my things. I told her I wanted to go back inside first, see what he was doing. Call Sam first.
Sam. Who offered and has to offer everything I need in a few simple sentences. "I'm here."
"I'll do anything."
"I want to do anything."
"I love you."
Went back inside. He was adamant.
Called my mom: "okay, come down."
He wouldn't leave. Didn't want me to take his shit. And, "can't we just be civil about this?"
CIVIL. WHAT THE FUCK. There's nothing CIVIL about what you just did to me.
Then he went visibly insane. Started crying, pissed off still, telling me to say it, just say it all, keep piling it on. I had said very few words. He asked how I felt. I wasn't even mad anymore. "I feel sorry for you," I said. "You just lost one of your few closest friends. You lost the buffer between you and your family-that's-not-really-a-family. But even more than that, you just gave up my family. And I hate that I feel sorry for you."
Packing up my stuff. He said, "No, I feel sorry for you." and I just felt even more so. He knew it. He heard what I said and it got to him, somewhere he refused, yet, to acknowledge.
He got out a bunch of bins, and then he left.
My parents arrived soon after.
At this point, I was not even sad. Only thankful. Ragged, but thankful.
Thankful also that the condo was so small and bare.
Not much stuff.
Never "home."
I left a bunch of things out to take with me to Sam's. We had planned on the next day hanging out on campus for a while so he could see Dr. Gast (I believe that was her name) and I could finish this paper.
This was at 1:30 AM.
Arrived at Sam's an hour later. My mind was racing too fast for me to keep up, and I thought I would never sleep, but somehow Sam managed to still me. He does that.
Too few hours of sleep later, we were both on campus.
Evan called me, Evan texted me and called and texted some more. He was sorry. He didn't know how to repair it, he didn't know what to say.
I had always said everything. Now I had nothing new. There was silence. Every time, silence.
Friday night was a long night for both of us. Sam had to deal with Trevor, Sam had to deal with logistics to actually have a bassist the next night, Sam had to deal. Another late night.
The next morning I almost never woke up. Poor Sam had to pick up Craig at 10AM. I even slept through an hour of their band practice.
Evan called, Evan texted, Evan was sorry, Evan didn't know.
Loaded the cars, headed to Baltimore, Charm City Art Space.
A conversation with Evan ended, "goodbye sweetheart." Visible grimace.
Drama all around me. Third band, new-bassist worries, equipment slightly malfunctioning, equipment generally, etc. Not worth it and not worth detailing. This is when I thrive, because I can't be that anymore. And because I had to be there for Sam, even if at a distance.
But,
fan-f*&%ing-tastic show. Seriously, those guys. Sam Cooper and his Sleepwalkers.
I got to see Sam rock out for the first time (since coffeehouses aren't exactly the place for that). I am totally in awe of him when he performs.
They were on it, and they sounded amazing.
Loaded the cars. Everyone was exhausted. We didn't stay for Campers. A shame, a little, because Emma seemed really cool, and so did Asa except for that one moment.
Instead, gas-station Coke and a man who told Sam he really needed to paint flowers on my toenails, that's what I'd like.
Shared pretzels, shared thoughts.
He feels weird about all this lamentation crap with Evan. Perfectly understandable.
Home. Unpacking. Sleep.
Got up today, headed to campus to work.
Evan called, called him back.
He had realized a lot of things that he wouldn't let himself realize or deal with before. He wrote them down, wanted to give them to me. I told him he could.
McKeldin. He handed me a black bag and I knew what it was.
He gave me the Netbook.
Case filled with my favorite Luna bars and a SoyJoy, which commercials had made him think of me.
Three cards filled with writing told me everything he was thinking.
To be honest, I'm happy he is finally accessing his heart. I told him we could hang out for a short period of time on Wednesday, after my last final.
Now, I am on the 6th floor of McKeldin. I should be doing my paper, but I wanted to type this first.
I am grateful, beyond any words. I am not sad. I am not even stressed. I am just happy.
Sam,
I will not stop being honest with you. I will never refrain from telling you how I feel. I will want you, I will need you, and I will tell you that I want you, I need you. I do.
And I will love you fiercely.
These past few days have been insane. Not sane. Stupidly crazy. I should be doing work but I'll get this out in a condensed version now.
Thursday was my first final. I had stayed up the entire night before, trying to finish my Folksong and Ballad paper, as well as my Book 2.0 paper. I had planned on going to Sam's that night and warned him that it might be late because I still had to go home and shower and I hadn't even had time to pack any clothes before I had to fly out the door and hope the morning rush hour hadn't begun. I ended up emailing Kari at about 5:00AM pleading for an extension.
Got to school, didn't feel confident at all. But I received Kari's email, which was incredibly understanding. And I had some contact with Sam. And I felt plenty better.
Took the final...I'm thinkin' I got a "C," which I was...alright about. But she haded back our research papers that day, and not only did I get an "A+" on a paper which I thought was total crap - well-structured crap, but crap - she also wrote this at the end:
"An astute analysis and a great pleasure to read. I am consistently made proud of my own contributions to your impressive intellectual development."
I could have cried, I was just floored.
Ridin' that high, I went into the undergrad lounge and just cranked out as much of that Folksong/Ballad paper as I could.
Then it was about 7PM and I hit a wall. I was missing Sam (preoccupied with the thought of Sam) and I knew it would be okay if I turned this paper in the next day.
Got home, speed-showered, plugged in the computer and prepared to rattle out one more page before I left.
Then Evan came home. Everything was fine - he was in a great mood from the students in his TA groups. We started talking, and somehow the conversation turned to "us" - what "us" used to be and has become, and I think he mentioned something about talking to his sister, and I asked glibly, "man, what does she think of me now anyway?" and his mood visibly chilled after that. He picked a fight. Then he asked if I felt like I was taking advantage of him. His common script for the past year. You take advantage of me, there's no incentive for me, you don't appreciate me...etc. And what he has consistently meant by "me" is something more like "my money." I have hated that money means so much to him, but tried to understand since that's what he grew up with. His dad is the Patriarch. Like I have replied intermittently for the past year, I said "YES, YES OF COURSE I know I'm taking advantage of you." - There had been few other options for me. But we both knew and we both acknowledged it to an extent, but every once in a while he would just not listen to me, continue his script, resent me and loathe me.
This time it was different, it was more.
He blew the fuck up.
Unplugged his netbook from under my hands, took it away, took away everything around me that was his,
screamed "GET OUT. GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE." stood up close to me like he was this far from just...
I lost it. Went outside to call my mom in frantic disbelieving tears. I think he followed, but went back inside after he saw she answered.
My mom immediately, without hesitation offered to come get me, come get my things. I told her I wanted to go back inside first, see what he was doing. Call Sam first.
Sam. Who offered and has to offer everything I need in a few simple sentences. "I'm here."
"I'll do anything."
"I want to do anything."
"I love you."
Went back inside. He was adamant.
Called my mom: "okay, come down."
He wouldn't leave. Didn't want me to take his shit. And, "can't we just be civil about this?"
CIVIL. WHAT THE FUCK. There's nothing CIVIL about what you just did to me.
Then he went visibly insane. Started crying, pissed off still, telling me to say it, just say it all, keep piling it on. I had said very few words. He asked how I felt. I wasn't even mad anymore. "I feel sorry for you," I said. "You just lost one of your few closest friends. You lost the buffer between you and your family-that's-not-really-a-family. But even more than that, you just gave up my family. And I hate that I feel sorry for you."
Packing up my stuff. He said, "No, I feel sorry for you." and I just felt even more so. He knew it. He heard what I said and it got to him, somewhere he refused, yet, to acknowledge.
He got out a bunch of bins, and then he left.
My parents arrived soon after.
At this point, I was not even sad. Only thankful. Ragged, but thankful.
Thankful also that the condo was so small and bare.
Not much stuff.
Never "home."
I left a bunch of things out to take with me to Sam's. We had planned on the next day hanging out on campus for a while so he could see Dr. Gast (I believe that was her name) and I could finish this paper.
This was at 1:30 AM.
Arrived at Sam's an hour later. My mind was racing too fast for me to keep up, and I thought I would never sleep, but somehow Sam managed to still me. He does that.
Too few hours of sleep later, we were both on campus.
Evan called me, Evan texted me and called and texted some more. He was sorry. He didn't know how to repair it, he didn't know what to say.
I had always said everything. Now I had nothing new. There was silence. Every time, silence.
Friday night was a long night for both of us. Sam had to deal with Trevor, Sam had to deal with logistics to actually have a bassist the next night, Sam had to deal. Another late night.
The next morning I almost never woke up. Poor Sam had to pick up Craig at 10AM. I even slept through an hour of their band practice.
Evan called, Evan texted, Evan was sorry, Evan didn't know.
Loaded the cars, headed to Baltimore, Charm City Art Space.
A conversation with Evan ended, "goodbye sweetheart." Visible grimace.
Drama all around me. Third band, new-bassist worries, equipment slightly malfunctioning, equipment generally, etc. Not worth it and not worth detailing. This is when I thrive, because I can't be that anymore. And because I had to be there for Sam, even if at a distance.
But,
fan-f*&%ing-tastic show. Seriously, those guys. Sam Cooper and his Sleepwalkers.
I got to see Sam rock out for the first time (since coffeehouses aren't exactly the place for that). I am totally in awe of him when he performs.
They were on it, and they sounded amazing.
Loaded the cars. Everyone was exhausted. We didn't stay for Campers. A shame, a little, because Emma seemed really cool, and so did Asa except for that one moment.
Instead, gas-station Coke and a man who told Sam he really needed to paint flowers on my toenails, that's what I'd like.
Shared pretzels, shared thoughts.
He feels weird about all this lamentation crap with Evan. Perfectly understandable.
Home. Unpacking. Sleep.
Got up today, headed to campus to work.
Evan called, called him back.
He had realized a lot of things that he wouldn't let himself realize or deal with before. He wrote them down, wanted to give them to me. I told him he could.
McKeldin. He handed me a black bag and I knew what it was.
He gave me the Netbook.
Case filled with my favorite Luna bars and a SoyJoy, which commercials had made him think of me.
Three cards filled with writing told me everything he was thinking.
To be honest, I'm happy he is finally accessing his heart. I told him we could hang out for a short period of time on Wednesday, after my last final.
Now, I am on the 6th floor of McKeldin. I should be doing my paper, but I wanted to type this first.
I am grateful, beyond any words. I am not sad. I am not even stressed. I am just happy.
Sam,
I will not stop being honest with you. I will never refrain from telling you how I feel. I will want you, I will need you, and I will tell you that I want you, I need you. I do.
And I will love you fiercely.