It killed me. It really did. But I'll get to that later.
Almost a month ago Jo left for London. I had this whole, good blog entry written about it too. There was no background descriptions about the scenario and there was no commentary. It was just what she said and what I said - in screenplay format. Obviously, I never published it though, and it'll probably sit forever in my blogger.com drafts page. Don't ask me why I didn't publish either, because I really don't know.
It was a sad day though. Really fucking sad. We hung out for a few (weird) hours and the cabbie blew his horn for her 5 minutes early. As soon as we heard the horn, we both stood up and I broke down as I hugged her goodbye. Yeah, I really lost my cool and all - but only for about 20 seconds. We had to get downstairs.
So I carried her bag down and walked her to the cab. As he was putting her bag in the trunk we kissed goodbye. It was strange. We didn't kiss goodbye like friends or people who are breaking up. We kissed goodbye like we used to. Damn it hurt.
I watched the cab drive down Hudson Street and made sure she knew I did so. After it faded out of sight, I rushed upstairs and - you guessed it - lost it. It was quite pathetic actually, but damn that apartment was lonely. Thank God I had French class that night or I may have just died in there. Really, I might have.
Anyway, that's the story of the day Jo left for London, and I'm telling this story today because she's flying back tonight - and I don't know why. We haven't really talked while she's been gone. She hasn't told me if she has a job, interviews, if she's just coming to get her stuff ... nothing. We had left things in good terms - as good as they can be - and we were getting along, but she seemed different when I talked to her yesterday and when I got her email.
It was a cold and straightforward email. Not alot of emotion you know. And it made me sad. It shouldn't have, but it did. It was right about lunch time and Dub asked what I wanted to do for lunch. I didn't want to announce anything to the crew back here, so I just quietly IM'ed him and told him I was going to do my own thing for lunch. He was cool with that of course.
So with no direction whatsoever, I walked outside into a stunning, gorgeous, beautiful New York October day with nowhere to hide. It was almost sickening. I walked a half block in the first direction I could think of and stopped to light a cigarette. Yeah, I thought, if I'm sucking in nicotine, that'll keep the water from eyes - it actually worked by the way.
It was then I decided that I didn't want to eat food for lunch. I didn't want to be healthy. In fact I wanted to self-destruct. Aha! I thought ... I wanted beer. And not just one either. I wanted to get fucking hammered, but I knew better than that, so two beers would have to do.
So I stood outside an Irish bar to finish my cigarette and stared at the marvellous weather and felt ... like I wanted to die. And I did. For those few moments, I really missed Jo, and the old days, and just thought about how fucking hard everything is. I wasn't suicidal or anything, and I wasn't even that depressed. I was just overcome with this apathetic, melancholy feeling that right then - at that moment - if a big truck came flying into the sidewalk and took me out, it wouldn't be that bad.
Now before you worry about me too much, that thought was fleeting and by the time my American Spirit had burned to its butt, I was over that. But I just kept thinking about that email - and that's what was killing me (to borrow from Holden Caulfield). Cold and to the point - 1 paragraph long ... but I could handle those attributes. It was the way she signed it damn it.
This time there was no, "I miss you" or "Love" or "Hope you're doing well" or anything like that this time. She just said, with no capitalization, "see ya' ole boy - Jo"
That killed me. It really did.
posted by miLo @ 6:49 AM
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