American Goodbyes, English Farewells or Total Eclipse of the Heart remix
I've been lazy with the posts. Well, the end of my story. This one is especially important to me lj. I don't know why exactly maybe because it's the beginning of the end. Or simply the beginning. To....something. I've been neglecting you; I know this. It's only because I've committed myself to going to class from 10-3 then work 5-10 four days a week and watching Skins. Which is like watching a heavier version of Degrassi with more naked teenagers and simulated sex.
It's quite obvious that I'm not the only one who sees life as a series of comings and goings, after all, people have made a fortune off the subject. Novels, plays, songs and whatever have been written to examine the self in transit. Leaving the bus station or train station, lifting off in a plane or even climbing into a taxi, it always feels like the last time even if you keep leaving the same place and coming back to it. It's a grievance that must be felt. Irwin is my driver from here to Champaign. Living in Champaign this summer will be the practice run of actually living on my own. School only lasts for a month and the places I can travel for fun will be severely limited as I am too poor to own even the cheapest car. I don't really want to return. My friend is gone, what do I do now? For the longest I tried to ignore the inevitable end. The sadness hit me the day after we went to see Morrissey but didn't bother including itself in my daily thoughts until the 12th. I even (and thought successfully) ignored his pout and sad blue eyes, rebuffed his offers to go back with him or consider relocating to London. So now on I-90 and moments before we hit I-57 I might tear up again and I already can feel the emptiness of my apartment because he is far away, escaping the Midwest to Toronto or already feeling up the coast of California. It's astonishing to me really because I'm trying to convince myself that his absence won't mean much. Three months is enough time for someone to show themselves and I liked who he was when he finished his stay here. So to remedy, I spend rainy afternoons at home watching archived episodes of Gossip Girl on TiVo. Because you know what I love? Plot holes in my stories. Gotta watch my stories. But those were a let down.
On May 13th I woke up in a pool of tears (to continue drawing upon the Alice in Wonderland parallels which have so accurately described this year) with the weather outside no rival despite the monsoon conditions. In a few hours, I was leaving and saying goodbye. It was 8 o'clock in the morning. I just forced myself to sleep at 3 am. I told myself that it was no time to be hungover and that I was too sad to even consider indulging in the day after favorites like five grilled cheeses or hangover tv/movies on USA Network. No, I had to take a walk and yes, I know it's flooded outside but for my sanity it's worth it. I went across campus to Walgreens. Bought some blank cds and the largest bottle of water under $1.29. When I got back home I found myself severely bored and very hungry. I sat on my couch, puffy eyed and crying...still (which I knew was very embarrassing but I just need to be done with this bit). The rain let up some and then made a comeback with intimidatingly beautiful flashes of light and the dulcet sound of thunder. I think I felt scared, comforted. Both. At the same time. Kooky. The cable was shut off so I decided to watch the Daily Show online. I could try laughing. I was eager to laugh. Instead the episode I watched had a segment where Jon Stewart has a spat with John Oliver about how America is better than England.
It was funny. It was really funny. Sigh.
I didn't dare to look in the mirror. So I made a pot of rice instead.
I have to look in the mirror. I look ghastly. Great. Eyeliner and mascara will clear that right up. Kind of. Eh, I'll just wear the sunglasses.
I step inside Murphy's wearing the large dark glasses like a girl taking too many fashion and lifestyle cues from Holly Golightly. Murphy's is near empty unlike last night. For the sake of honesty, I felt uncomfortable. That Tuesday I simply planned to drink with the Theatre Studies kids at The Gem and I was totally prepared to be civil to Russell and whomever else I felt would be a challenge to my small talk skills). I got a text around a quarter to nine from Manchester boy: "...will be at Murphs from about 9:30-you fancy it? x" and suddenly plans have changed. I get there and look for him a bit. Can't find him. I order some french fries. He finds me. Kiss on the cheek. I will probably never get used to that. So European.
"You got started already? It's not even ten yet. What are you drinking? I'm probably not going to drink tonight." I need to learn how to stop saying "I'm probably not going to to drink tonight" because that's what happened on New Years and well this night as well.
"I'm drinking water because I've a virus and have been throwing up for the last two days. I just drank so much; I was sooooo haggard."
(The last two days I thought he was with Paige and when the thought occurred to me at 4am on Monday, I tossed and turned, knowing I shouldn't have this thought because we are only friends and he has a girlfriend from Manchester who's studying at ASU (why/HA ASU? whatever) that he'll resume things with eventually but I allow myself to get upset because- considering basic psychological principles- it's okay, it's natural for me to feel this way and I always allow what is natural.)
"Jesus. Well fine, I'll get something." I order a Whiskey Sour.
"What is that?"
"They make it with Jim and Lemonade. I think it's supposed to have egg whites in it too. It's a man's drink."
"I'd believe that if you weren't a lightweight and they weren't serving you with a pink straw."
"Ugh. Now it looks like a girls drink. Are they going to give me an umbrella with it too?"
A booth opens and we take a seat, pick at my cold, dry, french fries. Two girls walk past, one says hi and smiles. It didn't really seem flirtatious maybe because they were so plain looking. I almost missed the exchange between them except that he looked like he knew her but didn't at the same time. Before I could even make a "did you know that person face?" he tells me "I am NOT going to miss that."
"Haha I was actually seconds from asking you if you knew her. A testament to your popularity, maybe."
"Hah, no, no, no. I can't be asked to deal that anymore. I am just so ready to go back to the security of a solid relationship."
"Congratulations!" Smile with the pink straw firmly between my lips; the first whiskey sour is gone in a matter of milliseconds.
He says it like he says he misses his mom so it's not threatening or irritating it's just that----I just don't know what to say. (I present a portent of the evening. The next one is far more predictable.)
He laughs and facetiously remarks, "Congratulations is just what I need. Thanks Patch." I think he thinks I'm joking rather than that I have absolutely no idea how to respond. I can't commiserate and I can't just not say anything or say "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Maybe someone who's normal can but no, not I." I simply can't blow my cover or else he'll know I'm a degenerate- so "Congratulations!" seemed to be appropriate. Not too good for thinking on my feet.
"Well what I mean is it's good. It's what happens.You'll be back with her very soon. In Canada, nonetheless," trailing off, "And I'm going to be here. Still ignoring calls from the boys I no longer wish to see." And then he lightly teases me about talking to Castle and I playfully throw a french fry at him. When I really just want to cry. C'est la Vie.
Moments later, Tim joins us (which is slightly a relief and an annoyance) and then Josie and Stephanie-theatre people I only know as credits on a playbill. And so I feel very much alone for a portion of the night and I keep up with the group conversations- ones I am due to forget because they are so trite and hardly peak my interest. I'm no good at mingling.
And oh hey! More theatre people including ACTORS! Yayayayayayay. Danny and Ashley and...Paige.
Sigh.
Moments pass. They're are two groups now and I've purposely made sure I'm in the one he and Paige are not engaged in.
Do not entertain wild ideas or even think about what they're talking about. There's nothing to worry about see? Oh but this imagination of mine.
Moments pass. Danny finally tricks me into kissing him on the lips, asking for a peck and then quickly turning to lay one on me. He didn't trick me the first time.
Everything is a drunken haze now. I think I gave my phone number to Doc- a hippie-haired DDTM grad I've talked to maybe 0.5 times. We'll hang out for sure. Probably not actually.
Oh no. I feel it. Annnnnd it's here. The tears.
Three and half whiskey sours later, I decide that I need to stop crying and I need water. So I sit in the chair by the bar watching my glass of water slowly disappear. And then someone pulls up to the bar. I can't remember what he says to me, I think something about my water, maybe he asks what I'm drinking and so I say "Water." I touch the lapel of his sports jacket to get a better look at it. It's a (late 1970s) Sox logo. I utter an unenthusiastic "Hmm, nice" because I am SO into this water (and I prefer the classic logo). We chat for a second and he asks if I want to have a beer with him and his friends. "Sure! But wait, I don't drink beer.""Well you can start." So I go and try to sip the pale ale, and they all tell me their names but I have really no interest in who they are. One asks me where are my "girlfriends at" and I point to Paige and Ashely and Elisa. BECAUSE IT'S SO FUNNY RIGHT? I CAME HERE WITH MY FRIEND WHO IS A BOYYYY. SO FUNNY. "Right there. Actually, hhahahaha, they aren't my 'girlfriends.' I don't like them very much actually." "So who did you come with?" the red-haired boy asks. "My friend. He's right there." "Which one the tall dark haired one?" "No, that's Danny. The one right there. In the white v-neck. The blond one." Are they sizing him up? I don't know. I have no idea what's happening. "We're going to go to Clybourne's next. Come with us." "Ohhh. Yeah. They totally remodeled it. It's classy now. Yeah sure. One second though, I have to tell my friend that I'm leaving. Since I'm here for him and all. I'll be right back."
So I go to ask Manchester Boy for permission to leave. (Now, I realize almost a month later, that I might have been adminstering a test: "Are you going to allow me to leave with five guys I don't know or will you make me stay." Or exercising agency: "I can do whatever I want." Which he often quotes to mock me and then puts is hand on his hip to mock me further:"You always do this and say this." It's really funny watching him imitate me.)
"Patch, how are you? And where have you been?"
"Oh I'm fine. I'm with my friends."
"Who? Where?"
"Right there. Actually I don't know them. I just met them. haha. Even funnier, I don't remember their names either. I remember he said he was from Lemont and I lied and said that was cool. BUT he said I didn't have to pay him for the beer."
I turn around to point with my right and he takes hold of my left elbow and bicep firmly, almost unnoticeably taking command of my center of gravity. I can't move much and he just talks to me like everything is fine and like he isn't holding me captive. And I don't fight him. I just sway in his grip.
"Yeah, he let me have a beer with them but I can't drink it all because I don't like beer. So I poured equal amounts into their cups."
"Yeah? Maybe that's a good thing."
"They want me to go to Clybourne's with them. But I said I had to ask you because you're leaving. OH they asked me- 'On a scale from 1 to 10, what is your friend?' And I didn't know what they meant so I said "10 I guess" but then I changed my answer to, um, what was it, yeah- 11.3? 11.3! because it's higher than ten! It'd seemed safe? I still don't know what that means. What that question means. But anyway I'm going to go to Clybourne's really quick."
"Um, I think you should stay here Patch."
"Danny, tell him I have to go. I made a promise. I. Always keep my promises."
"I think you should listen to him," Danny says. Unsurprising. Just like boys to stick together.
And Will exclaims: "Oh, well I think they're leaving now. It's too late."
And much to my disappointment (but actually not at all): "Oh, you're right. Okay. I guess I'll stay here." And my new friends get up to go. I give them all hugs with one arm on their way out.
They exit the bar and now I'm allowed to go get another Whiskey Sour. I switch to Jameson.
And the tears are just coming. I think bar closes in two hours. I make several trips to the bathroom to just cry. And Ashley and Paige are in the bathroom and I can hear their voices but I can't make out what they're talking about nothing really actually. And I leave the stall. I don't care if they see me. I leave the bathroom talk to Manchester boy and Stanley and someone else I can't remember and drink another glass of water.
It's mostly switching back and forth from water to Whiskey because I've got the money and the time.
When I've decided to chill out in a corner by myself, I make a new friend.
Ravi is his name. And we just talk. He's kind of funny and for the first time someone who is South Asian hasn't questioned my ethnicity. Tonight is the night of Wins. Wouldn't you say so? I closed the bar down with him. Return to those I came there with.
Outside, Will says his goodbyes. I am wiping tears while in Stanley's arms, waiting, like a little bird who flew too far from the nest. Or something-anyway. He comes to collect me and arm in arm as always, we walk home. Until I fall...again.
Then