Gutters Full of RainI 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 doorAnd 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.
Best FriendsI saw Will (aka the Vist) this weekend, and as always, it was great to see the Vist. Will and I have been friends since 7th grade, were best friends through high school and college, and have continued as that even now, 6 years after graduation. Those kind of friends don't come along often ya know, and even though the talks and visits grow fewer and fewer, we never miss a beat when we're together.
So anyway, I got to thinking about how best friends usually have that moment. That moment where you both can look back on and remember when and where you went from being friends to "best friends." Mine and Will's happened on a hot Alabama night in 10th grade.
Vist and I had snuck out of the house - as per usual - and driven down the river where the old famous recording studio was (and by famous, I'm talking about Rolling Stones, Dylan, Skynrd, etc, but I digress). We were sitting on the hood of his black GMC, smoking away on a pack of camels, and had just been shooting shit for a little while.
What we didn't know at the time, is that both of us had the dubious distinction of having "secret" relationships. You know, the classic forbidden high-school lust, errr love. I don't remember exactly how it started, but one of us trusted the other enough to break the ice, and we ended up spilling our guts all night long about who, how, and of course exactly WHAT we did since we were high school boys after all :). So as we finished the pack of smokes and headed home we made a pact that our secrets were "burned to the bottom of the river with the cigarettes."
Sidenote - how cool do you think we thought we were when we came up with that phrase.
Anyway, the truth about my C and Will's J (names are protected to protect the ummm, not so innocent) eventually came to public light - when that happened btw, it almost ruined another friendship of mine, but thats another entry - but the point is that neither one of ever broke our pact and that bond between us had been formed. Many great and crazy nights followed, and there were lots of other girls, smokes, alchohol, video games, and talks. Lots of talks. And just to share a bit, some of my most memorable Will moments were:
- Freshman year of college when I stayed behind with Will after J and I drove to Birmingham at 2 in the morning b/c Will and J had just broken up over the phone
- Being in the car with Vist after he had broken up with Jess, and thinking how perfect it was when he popped in a Dylan CD and went right to Abandonded Love - "Let me feel your love one more time, before I abandon it ...." old Bobby sang out as we sped down I-65.
- Watching Vist almost die as we snuck the car out of his parents driveway, put it into neutral and lost control as we took a turn with Vist desperately hanging on to the back. I'm still laughing at that as I write this - even though it was really scary.
- Going to our first Dylan show together.
- Sitting in Will's kitchen in Nashville, drinking a case of Icehouse (WTF?) and recording what would be known as our first "album."
- Sitting almost naked on the couch on his college graduation day - following a crazy week of consecutive daily debauchery - as his parents uncomfortably stood in the living room, afraid to touch anything, and certainly wondering if I had on any clothes at all underneath that dingy white sheet.
Anyway, I could go on for a while, but then I'm sure my reader(s?) is getting bored, so that'd just be self-indulgent.
As I said goodbye to Will this morning, I got a little down and started thinking. Even though we get wiser and more mature as we get older, some things that one would think get easier, only seem to get more difficult. We should be trained for goodbyes at this point, right? Through human evolution, life experiences, and the increase in number of relationships we encounter in our lifetimes, why is it still sad? Why does it hurt to say, "until next time?" We know we'll love others, we know we're probably going to see this person again, and yet logic can't overcome that pain of saying goodbye. We're a weird lot you know - humans. God's definitely got a sense of humor.
Anyway, Vist and I didn't make any new, great memories this weekend, but we had a damn good time reminiscing about old ones. Friends like that don't come along often ya know.
Until next time V ....
