milo E minderbinder's little corner

Gutters Full of Rain

I can still remember the first "big" fight we had. We had packed up my entire life in my 1 bedroom railroad apartment to move 7,000 miles across the Atlantic. And as if packing and moving isn't stressful enough, I think I went to bed at 6 am and woke up at 8. Jo and I had both seen better days. We were finishing up and stuffing the last bit of belongings into my tiny, black, Acura hatchback, and the painters for the new tenant were already inside working. I was carrying a box towards the door and she asked me if I had gotten something from the bathroom. I responded - possibly with a bit of an annoyed tone - and she blew her head off at me.

"Whoa," I thought. What the fuck was that? We had fought before, given each other the cold shoulder and what not, but I'd never seen this side of Jo. The fight only got worse from there. She took off walking somewhere, and I did the same. I can remember sitting on a bench on the Hudson, and remembering how down I got when I came to grips with the fact that I had already sold my Acura to Ben - thus eliminating the possibility of just driving off into the distance. We eventually found each other, and she admitted to me that she thought about breaking up, that broke my heart, and we made up.

What I really recall from that day though - besides later having my car towed and spending all day in the impound lot with expired tags - is how much it hurt me and bothered me to fight like that. I despised feeling angry at her and feeling seperated from our beautiful world that we built. And it was a crazy and beautiful world. From meeting at a party on a random NYC September night, to never spending a day apart after our 2nd date, to deciding to leave my life in New York behind for the unknown on a Mediterranean Island - she was my world.

That feeling though, that feeling of disdain for seperation from her, grew a tad bit smaller with each fight. I didn't realize it at the time, but we were building unrepairable walls with every scream, swear word, and slam of the door. Writhing pain from hurtful words was slowly turning into apathy and empty threats. And the way it snuck up on me reminds me of a piercingly great, love gone bad song by David Gray called Gutters Full of Rain:

A gutter full of rain
An empty picture frame
A house out at the edges of the city
Never noticing the war, till its right there at your door
And suddenly your hands are bloody.

Wow. Very poignant Mr. Gray - never noticing the war, till it was right there at my door. Bloody hands, broken heart, and pieced togther bridges and barriers. And I didn't even see it coming. God, I miss that world - I miss that girl. I miss that girl that was packing up my apartment with me 4 years ago. The one that first walked away that day after that first big fight. Maybe if I'd have known that that she was never going to really, truly come back the same, maybe I would have grabbed her by the arm and said the perfect joke to make us laugh at the stupidity of the fight.

She called me at work this morning and said she's packing some stuff up, and would be gone by the time I got home. I guess you never know how you're going to really feel until it actually happens. Trying to make sense of it and keep some form of composure, I went to the back room to hide my eyes and catch my breath. I then decided to get some air and get a Jamba Juice.

"Would you like a free boost with that?" the cashier at Jamba asked me. I looked at the menu above the counter to see if they had anything for heartache. No dice.

"Immunity boost please," I timidly responded. "Good of a choice as any," I thought to myself.

I just hope the damn free boost works.

posted by miLo @ 9:51 AM