Your mom took her luggage to the sidewalk while you and I said our goodbyes.
“Call me, okay? Let me know you got in safe.”
“Okay.” You hugged me.
I pulled away and smiled. “No you won’t,” I said. “You suck at using the phone.”
“But I will.”
“How do I know that?”
“Because when I hugged you, I smelled your hair. And I wouldn’t smell your hair if I didn’t mean what I said, that I’ll call you.” You’re holding my shoulders, looking straight into my eyes. You're wearing that shirt I bought you, the brown one that you love.
“You smelled my hair?” I smile and raise my eyebrows.
“Yeah, like this.” We hug again, and this time, I feel you inhale, and my hair moves away from my neck. We kiss cheeks, and I feel so safe.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Dear Nick,
I mailed you a letter yesterday. You should get it by Saturday.
Yesterday the optometrist whose office is next to the toy store came over to ask our opinion on a pair of $2000 glasses he put together for a display. He’s cute. I mentioned that to some of the girls during shift change, and Hannah, who is all of 18 years old, said, “Yeah, but you have a boyfriend.”
I laughed. “So? I’m not married. And actually, I have a boyfriend and a half.” (I don’t know why I said this. I have no clue.)
“Half?” Kendyll looked at me like I was crazy.
I managed to get something out that sounded awkward and stilted. “My best friend has brain cancer, and when he’s better, we’re going to be together, maybe. We’ll see.”
“Does he know that?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
Hannah’s eyes got big. “Whoa, what a live you lead! It’s like a movie or something! I’d love to have your life!”
I laughed and left the store. But this is what I should have said. You don’t want my life. You don’t want to be in an empty relationship just because you’ve been together for so long and because everyone expects it. You don’t want you best friend, whom you love dearly, to suffer from brain cancer. Because every day you don’t hear from him or his family (who are suffering so much) the hole in your heart gets a little bigger and a lot heavier. And after weeks of crying yourself to sleep, you find yourself grasping at straws of hope. You listen to voice messages he sent. You read entries in your journals written after those great days that left your soul smiling. You talk to his other friends, who remind you that there is always hope, prayer, and love, and that you need to remember those things to get you through, because the thought of functioning in a world where he doesn’t exist is the most terrifying thought of all. You try to keep a normal appearance, so you smile, act happy, and do the motions, but inside, that heavy emptiness is pulling you downward and in, making the hope and love and prayer that much harder to get to.
I’d love to be 18 again.
Love,
Holly
I mailed you a letter yesterday. You should get it by Saturday.
Yesterday the optometrist whose office is next to the toy store came over to ask our opinion on a pair of $2000 glasses he put together for a display. He’s cute. I mentioned that to some of the girls during shift change, and Hannah, who is all of 18 years old, said, “Yeah, but you have a boyfriend.”
I laughed. “So? I’m not married. And actually, I have a boyfriend and a half.” (I don’t know why I said this. I have no clue.)
“Half?” Kendyll looked at me like I was crazy.
I managed to get something out that sounded awkward and stilted. “My best friend has brain cancer, and when he’s better, we’re going to be together, maybe. We’ll see.”
“Does he know that?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
Hannah’s eyes got big. “Whoa, what a live you lead! It’s like a movie or something! I’d love to have your life!”
I laughed and left the store. But this is what I should have said. You don’t want my life. You don’t want to be in an empty relationship just because you’ve been together for so long and because everyone expects it. You don’t want you best friend, whom you love dearly, to suffer from brain cancer. Because every day you don’t hear from him or his family (who are suffering so much) the hole in your heart gets a little bigger and a lot heavier. And after weeks of crying yourself to sleep, you find yourself grasping at straws of hope. You listen to voice messages he sent. You read entries in your journals written after those great days that left your soul smiling. You talk to his other friends, who remind you that there is always hope, prayer, and love, and that you need to remember those things to get you through, because the thought of functioning in a world where he doesn’t exist is the most terrifying thought of all. You try to keep a normal appearance, so you smile, act happy, and do the motions, but inside, that heavy emptiness is pulling you downward and in, making the hope and love and prayer that much harder to get to.
I’d love to be 18 again.
Love,
Holly
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
hoping
Dear Nick,
It’s been 17 days. God, I hope you’re mad at me for some reason that we can resolve, and not that you are so sick you can’t call. Please, God, please. Let him be okay and really pissed at me. I’d rather him be mad than ill.
Each day I don’t talk to you, my heart feels an increase of this paradox of more emptiness and more heaviness. I listen to the messages I have saved on my phone, just to hear your voice. The second message, you end with, “I miss you, I love you.” I love you too, Nick.
Love,
Holly
It’s been 17 days. God, I hope you’re mad at me for some reason that we can resolve, and not that you are so sick you can’t call. Please, God, please. Let him be okay and really pissed at me. I’d rather him be mad than ill.
Each day I don’t talk to you, my heart feels an increase of this paradox of more emptiness and more heaviness. I listen to the messages I have saved on my phone, just to hear your voice. The second message, you end with, “I miss you, I love you.” I love you too, Nick.
Love,
Holly
new classroom
Dear Nick,
Yesterday I stopped by school to check out my classroom for next year. I imagined where I’ll put the reading corner, my desk, the computers, all the student’s desks. It’s so exciting. If you come visit me during the school year, you can come visit my classroom.
Love,
Holly
Yesterday I stopped by school to check out my classroom for next year. I imagined where I’ll put the reading corner, my desk, the computers, all the student’s desks. It’s so exciting. If you come visit me during the school year, you can come visit my classroom.
Love,
Holly
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Dear Nick,
I miss you, of course. It’s been 15 days since we’ve talked. God, I miss you.
You’d be proud of me—I was social this weekend. On Friday, I went to lunch with that trainer who has a crush on me. He knows I have a boyfriend and that we went just as friends, although that didn’t stop him from paying, trying to flirt, and kissing my cheek before he left. Augh.
Last night I went out with some co-workers from the toy store. We went to this place they called a club, but I’d call a bar with live music. You’d love it. The crowd was very diverse—punks mingling with preps, hood rats and old bikers. The band covered great music, from Weezer to Sublime to Tool. And I danced! We played darts, and although my first game was bad, the subsequent games were quite good. When you come to visit, we are definitely going there.
Today we went to a BBQ at the house of some of Chris’s friends. Afterward, we had book club, but I didn’t read the book, just the sparknotes. (Actually, not only did I not read the book, I didn’t even buy the right book. Oh well, I’ll participate more next time, because the next book is Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Yay!)
Today a lady at mass fainted and an ambulance came during the homily. I was really pissed off, because Father Eddie did absolutely nothing to acknowledge it during the prayers of the faithful. I thought that was very disrespectful toward that woman, her family, and all the people who rushed to help her. Even worse, the homily was about helping people out of the goodness of one’s heart.
I rented the first season, first disc of both 30 Rock and The Riches. Both are good shows, and I think I’ll rent the rest of the series. You’d like the, I think, especially 30 Rock. You’d get a kick out of Tracy Morgan’s character.
I’m listening to Feist right now. I listen to Feist when I’m happy or sad or I miss you. But really, I always miss you. Always. I’m always thinking of and praying for you, even when I’m conversing with people or concentrating on some task. It doesn’t matter; you’re always on my mind.
I have some stuff to send you as a little care package. Watch the mail.
Love,
Holly
I miss you, of course. It’s been 15 days since we’ve talked. God, I miss you.
You’d be proud of me—I was social this weekend. On Friday, I went to lunch with that trainer who has a crush on me. He knows I have a boyfriend and that we went just as friends, although that didn’t stop him from paying, trying to flirt, and kissing my cheek before he left. Augh.
Last night I went out with some co-workers from the toy store. We went to this place they called a club, but I’d call a bar with live music. You’d love it. The crowd was very diverse—punks mingling with preps, hood rats and old bikers. The band covered great music, from Weezer to Sublime to Tool. And I danced! We played darts, and although my first game was bad, the subsequent games were quite good. When you come to visit, we are definitely going there.
Today we went to a BBQ at the house of some of Chris’s friends. Afterward, we had book club, but I didn’t read the book, just the sparknotes. (Actually, not only did I not read the book, I didn’t even buy the right book. Oh well, I’ll participate more next time, because the next book is Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Yay!)
Today a lady at mass fainted and an ambulance came during the homily. I was really pissed off, because Father Eddie did absolutely nothing to acknowledge it during the prayers of the faithful. I thought that was very disrespectful toward that woman, her family, and all the people who rushed to help her. Even worse, the homily was about helping people out of the goodness of one’s heart.
I rented the first season, first disc of both 30 Rock and The Riches. Both are good shows, and I think I’ll rent the rest of the series. You’d like the, I think, especially 30 Rock. You’d get a kick out of Tracy Morgan’s character.
I’m listening to Feist right now. I listen to Feist when I’m happy or sad or I miss you. But really, I always miss you. Always. I’m always thinking of and praying for you, even when I’m conversing with people or concentrating on some task. It doesn’t matter; you’re always on my mind.
I have some stuff to send you as a little care package. Watch the mail.
Love,
Holly
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Dear Nick,
Today was a really hard day. I woke up depressed, feeling like a giant chunk of my chest was missing. I managed to get myself into workout clothes and drive to the gym, but once I got there, I just sat in my car, starting into space, for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a minute. I felt like my soul had stopped, that time didn’t have any meaning. I just felt alone and empty.
I remember another time that happened. I had just arrived in the parking lot at the school where I was student teaching, and I was really upset. I don’t remember why. Something to do with Chris, probably. It was also around the time that you were starting to act differently, and I felt intuitively that your cancer was growing again. And there was a third thing, I don’t remember what it was. In any case, that time, I sat in the empty parking lot, staring at the trees in front of me, trees covered with a light powdering of snow that looked so beautiful that I couldn’t believe my feelings were so ugly.
Today was the same. I sat, staring at these beautiful, green trees, gently swaying in the wind, and felt hollow. I was so lonely. So alone. So miserable.
My workout was interrupted, repeatedly, by the trainer who has a crush on me. I just wanted him to go away! I didn’t want my existence acknowledged, I just wanted to feel the joint compression and get the therapeutic effects of lifting and running and really using my muscles! Just leave me alone, I wanted to scream. Don’t you see that I’m not myself??
I got home, undressed to take a shower, and burst into tears. I sat on my bathmat, hugging my knees, tears running down my thighs. I managed to take a shower, dry my aching body, and climb into my bed. I read a little, which calmed me down, but as soon as I finished the book, I felt empty again.
Five months ago, I would have gone to your apartment and things would have been immediately better by just being with you. But that was a lifetime ago, wasn’t it?
The day has gotten somewhat better, although I still feel wounded. I went to the movie store, took Buddy on a walk, and talked to some good friends. I left you a message, too. It’s a cheery message, because I love you.
Love,
Holly
Today was a really hard day. I woke up depressed, feeling like a giant chunk of my chest was missing. I managed to get myself into workout clothes and drive to the gym, but once I got there, I just sat in my car, starting into space, for what seemed like hours, but was probably only a minute. I felt like my soul had stopped, that time didn’t have any meaning. I just felt alone and empty.
I remember another time that happened. I had just arrived in the parking lot at the school where I was student teaching, and I was really upset. I don’t remember why. Something to do with Chris, probably. It was also around the time that you were starting to act differently, and I felt intuitively that your cancer was growing again. And there was a third thing, I don’t remember what it was. In any case, that time, I sat in the empty parking lot, staring at the trees in front of me, trees covered with a light powdering of snow that looked so beautiful that I couldn’t believe my feelings were so ugly.
Today was the same. I sat, staring at these beautiful, green trees, gently swaying in the wind, and felt hollow. I was so lonely. So alone. So miserable.
My workout was interrupted, repeatedly, by the trainer who has a crush on me. I just wanted him to go away! I didn’t want my existence acknowledged, I just wanted to feel the joint compression and get the therapeutic effects of lifting and running and really using my muscles! Just leave me alone, I wanted to scream. Don’t you see that I’m not myself??
I got home, undressed to take a shower, and burst into tears. I sat on my bathmat, hugging my knees, tears running down my thighs. I managed to take a shower, dry my aching body, and climb into my bed. I read a little, which calmed me down, but as soon as I finished the book, I felt empty again.
Five months ago, I would have gone to your apartment and things would have been immediately better by just being with you. But that was a lifetime ago, wasn’t it?
The day has gotten somewhat better, although I still feel wounded. I went to the movie store, took Buddy on a walk, and talked to some good friends. I left you a message, too. It’s a cheery message, because I love you.
Love,
Holly
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
random thoughts
Dear Nick,
Walking out from the locker room at the gym, I was stopped by a trainer I had met my first day. We talked for a while, after which he gave me his card, pointed out his cell number, and suggested we get together for lunch. I can’t remember the last time a guy sought me out to give me his number. I needed that.
Sitting here, not two minutes ago, I realized that I’ve become the woman I had always wanted to be. I’m living on my own in a cute apartment with the sweetest dog. I have friends who care about me, no matter where I am in the country. I take care of my body and take pride in my appearance. And, according to my uncle, I have a shining personality.
Oh my God. For the first time, I get what you’ve trying to tell me. I’m a good person. I’m beautiful. I need to love myself. Remember the night of the Duke vs UNC game, when afterward we went to that bar downtown? I had spent the entire day babysitting and felt so out of place, but you told me that I was the most beautiful girl there, the best girl there. Thank you for that. Thank you for that night; it’s one of my favorite memories of our friendship.
Love,
Holly
Walking out from the locker room at the gym, I was stopped by a trainer I had met my first day. We talked for a while, after which he gave me his card, pointed out his cell number, and suggested we get together for lunch. I can’t remember the last time a guy sought me out to give me his number. I needed that.
Sitting here, not two minutes ago, I realized that I’ve become the woman I had always wanted to be. I’m living on my own in a cute apartment with the sweetest dog. I have friends who care about me, no matter where I am in the country. I take care of my body and take pride in my appearance. And, according to my uncle, I have a shining personality.
Oh my God. For the first time, I get what you’ve trying to tell me. I’m a good person. I’m beautiful. I need to love myself. Remember the night of the Duke vs UNC game, when afterward we went to that bar downtown? I had spent the entire day babysitting and felt so out of place, but you told me that I was the most beautiful girl there, the best girl there. Thank you for that. Thank you for that night; it’s one of my favorite memories of our friendship.
Love,
Holly
Dear Nick,
I miss you. Your dad called Emily yesterday and said that you’re okay, but very, very tired. I am so sorry. I wish I could do something. I wish I could crawl into your bed, curl up next to you, and take it all away—the pain, the fear, the cancer. But I can’t. I’m 1500 miles away, so instead, I pray. I pray all day. If I’m not talking, I’m praying. It’s a constant stream of words to God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, Mary, St. Peregrine, and all the angels and saints.
In my heart, I know you’ll get better. The cancer won’t go away, but it’ll be controlled. You’ve said before that this cancer was a blessing because it made you reevaluate your priorities and take a good look at the friends in your life. I know you’ll get better because you’ve been given an incredible gift—the gift of experience that will bring compassion and empathy when helping other cancer patients. It’s too much of a coincidence that the top student in a medical class who just finished interviews for residencies in radiation oncology would get the very cancer he would be treating. It’s too much. God has a reason for all this. I don’t understand His ways, but all I can think is, you’ve been given this experience to make you the best doctor ever. Period. You will understand your patients’ fears and pains with an insight that no other doctor can.
Love,
Holly
I miss you. Your dad called Emily yesterday and said that you’re okay, but very, very tired. I am so sorry. I wish I could do something. I wish I could crawl into your bed, curl up next to you, and take it all away—the pain, the fear, the cancer. But I can’t. I’m 1500 miles away, so instead, I pray. I pray all day. If I’m not talking, I’m praying. It’s a constant stream of words to God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, Mary, St. Peregrine, and all the angels and saints.
In my heart, I know you’ll get better. The cancer won’t go away, but it’ll be controlled. You’ve said before that this cancer was a blessing because it made you reevaluate your priorities and take a good look at the friends in your life. I know you’ll get better because you’ve been given an incredible gift—the gift of experience that will bring compassion and empathy when helping other cancer patients. It’s too much of a coincidence that the top student in a medical class who just finished interviews for residencies in radiation oncology would get the very cancer he would be treating. It’s too much. God has a reason for all this. I don’t understand His ways, but all I can think is, you’ve been given this experience to make you the best doctor ever. Period. You will understand your patients’ fears and pains with an insight that no other doctor can.
Love,
Holly
Saturday, June 14, 2008
April Third
Dear Nick,
April third was a rough night, a turning point, really. We got home late, but I stayed up even later, writing. This is what I wrote. It's not the whole night, but it's a good start.
Love,
Holly
I knock on his door. He has the phone to his ear, but I still talk.
“Two weeks? You won’t be back for the concert.”
“Holly’s here. Yeah, thanks for cleaning my apartment.”
“Tell you sister I say hi,” I said.
“She says hi. Lola says hi back. She says thanks for the cupcakes. Oh wait, for the cupcake offer. She says you’re kind.”
“I’m mad at you. I’m really mad.”
“I’ve got to go. Thanks for everything.”
“Come over when you’re off the phone. I’m really upset.”
I go down the stairs to my apartment. Goose throws his head back and howls when I come in, but he forgot to use his voice. He’s a silent, muted dog. I can’t wait around for Nick. I have to be doing something. I empty the dishwasher. That takes three minutes. I make my bed; another three minutes. The door’s unlocked, he knows to just come in. I start a movie, a German movie whose plot is too complex for Nick to understand right now. He’ll suggest that we stay and watch it, and I’ll say it’s too complicated for him to catch up on. A subtle dig.
Twenty minutes later and he’s not here. I call him.
“Where are you?” he asks.
“Are you coming here?”
“Are you coming down?”
“I’m down. You’re up. Are you coming or not?”
“You’re really mad about what I said yesterday, aren’t you?”
“Should I be? I’m not mad about yesterday. I’m mad about right now.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Two minutes later he’s here. He’s wearing different pajama pants. They’re blue and too small. The steroids are making him fat. His butt pulls at the fabric, rounds out the seams. He comes in and goes straight for the thermostat.
“Is it hot in here?”
“Not really. I’m fine.”
“Mind if I change it?”
He’s already turning the AC on, so I don’t bother to answer.
“I’m really mad. Two weeks? You’ll miss the concert.”
“I’ll be back. When’s the concert?”
“A week from Saturday.”
“Oh, I should be back before then. What’s today?”
“April third.”
“When’s the concert?”
“The twelfth.”
“I’ll be back.” He gets on the computer and logs on to his email’s calendar. “Look at all this shit. Look at this. So much stuff, there’s so much going on. Life is too busy. How can I get anything done with all this life in the way? There’s so much. Last week was crazy. Look at that, appointments every day. I have to put life on hold.”
“That’s the past. You don’t have much coming up.”
“Look. A weekend bachelor party in LA I’m missing. Another in Las Vegas. Two weddings. Doctor’s appointments. Basketball, concerts, appointments.”
“I’m still mad at you.”
“I’m in a bad mood. I’m sorry. I’m grumpy. I just woke up.”
“I’m grumpy too. PMS sucks.”
He’s silent for a minute, looking out the window. I have a view of the downtown, with city lights edging the street leading to more lights in the distance.
“If we’re both grumpy we probably shouldn’t hang out. We aren’t helping each other.”
“I’ll get over it. I’m grumpy because I can’t get mad if you miss the concert because you are sick and that’s not under your control. I can’t get mad because you have a good reason to not be here. I’m grumpy because you are sick and it screws things up.”
“I need to get out of here.”
“I know.”
“I hate it here. I hate the city. No offense, but I have no reason to be here. It’s so ugly. At home, you open the windows, and,” he takes a deep breath, acting out opening the windows. “And everything is green and covered with flowers. And the birds sing. The birds sing. It’s beautiful.”
“This city isn’t that bad. Right now it sucks, but it’s pretty sometimes.”
“I need to go on a walk.” He looks at his reflection in the mirror. “I’m getting so fat.” He goes into my bathroom and I hear him step on the scale. “I’ve gained five pounds.”
“It’s raining outside. We can’t go on a walk. It’s cold and rainy.”
“Want to walk side-by-side on the treadmills in the gym?”
“Not really. If I’m going to work out, I’m going to work out. Want to get dinner or see a movie?”
“Yeah, what’s playing?”
We look up movie times at the theater across the street. There are a few good leads.
“I’m tired. I need caffeine.”
“Starbucks?” I suggest.
“I need to change,” he says.
He leaves to change, and I tell him I’ll be up in a few minutes. I throw on a pair of polka-dot galoshes over my yoga pants and a big gray sweater that falls off my shoulder. I go up to his place. The door’s unlocked. It’s always unlocked when he’s expecting me.
“I’m in the closet. I don’t know what to wear.”
“You’re in jeans? I didn’t know we were wearing real clothes.”
“They’re just jeans. I don’t know what to wear.” He’s holding an argyle sweater.
“Wear that. It’s nice.”
“Do you have any argyle? We could match.”
“No, I don’t own anything argyle.”
“Not even socks?”
“Not even socks.”
“Come in. Pick something out.”
“Your closet’s a bit small for the two of us.”
“Oh yeah.” He steps further into the closet.
“Just wear the argyle. It matches your gray shirt. I need to change if you’re going to wear real clothes.”
“You look great.”
“Thanks.”
He finishes getting ready and we go back to my place. On the way down he starts talking about the a cappella group he was in while at undergrad. He can’t remember the name.
“Speak of the Dark? That doesn’t make sense. Speak of the… speak of the… I don’t remember. Dark? Everything was Blue Devils. That was the mascot, the Blue Devil.”
“We didn’t have a mascot. We had the color blue.”
“Where did you go again?”
“TheBadPlace. You know that, Nick.”
“Oh yeah, I know that.”
“Speak of the Devil?”
“Yeah, that’s it. How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
Goose growls at Nick when I open the door. I go into my room to change into jeans. When I come out, Nick’s found the website for his old a cappella group.
“I arranged this song,” he says as he pushes play.
“I love that song. It reminds me of this guy I dated in undergrad.”
“This part is me,” he says. “Not the solo. The second part.” He points in the air, directing the voices.
“I love it,” I say.
“I miss music.”
“Me too.”
He looks around youtube, looking for video of the group.
“I should play my cello for you,” I suggest.
“I’d like that.”
I get the cello out of my room and start to tune the strings. I haven’t played in six months, at least. A few years ago the A string broke as I was tuning it and the string whipped around to lash my neck. I’m still scared of tuning the A. I hold the body close to me, the wood pressed against my thighs as I slowly adjust the pegs, plucking the taught strings to check their pitch.
“Hold this,” I say, passing him the cello. I get the case from my room and remove the bow. Despite neglect, the bow still has enough rosin, so I tighten it, take the cello from Nick, and play a two octave scale.
“That was great,” he says.
“It sucked. I suck. It’s been at least six months.”
“You missed a note, but it was still great. You’re great.”
“Thanks. Want to play?”
I pass him the cello and he sits down.
“You need to scoot to the edge of the chair. Not that far.” I adjust the way the cello sits between his legs. He grabs the bow and he glides it across the strings.
April third was a rough night, a turning point, really. We got home late, but I stayed up even later, writing. This is what I wrote. It's not the whole night, but it's a good start.
Love,
Holly
I knock on his door. He has the phone to his ear, but I still talk.
“Two weeks? You won’t be back for the concert.”
“Holly’s here. Yeah, thanks for cleaning my apartment.”
“Tell you sister I say hi,” I said.
“She says hi. Lola says hi back. She says thanks for the cupcakes. Oh wait, for the cupcake offer. She says you’re kind.”
“I’m mad at you. I’m really mad.”
“I’ve got to go. Thanks for everything.”
“Come over when you’re off the phone. I’m really upset.”
I go down the stairs to my apartment. Goose throws his head back and howls when I come in, but he forgot to use his voice. He’s a silent, muted dog. I can’t wait around for Nick. I have to be doing something. I empty the dishwasher. That takes three minutes. I make my bed; another three minutes. The door’s unlocked, he knows to just come in. I start a movie, a German movie whose plot is too complex for Nick to understand right now. He’ll suggest that we stay and watch it, and I’ll say it’s too complicated for him to catch up on. A subtle dig.
Twenty minutes later and he’s not here. I call him.
“Where are you?” he asks.
“Are you coming here?”
“Are you coming down?”
“I’m down. You’re up. Are you coming or not?”
“You’re really mad about what I said yesterday, aren’t you?”
“Should I be? I’m not mad about yesterday. I’m mad about right now.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Two minutes later he’s here. He’s wearing different pajama pants. They’re blue and too small. The steroids are making him fat. His butt pulls at the fabric, rounds out the seams. He comes in and goes straight for the thermostat.
“Is it hot in here?”
“Not really. I’m fine.”
“Mind if I change it?”
He’s already turning the AC on, so I don’t bother to answer.
“I’m really mad. Two weeks? You’ll miss the concert.”
“I’ll be back. When’s the concert?”
“A week from Saturday.”
“Oh, I should be back before then. What’s today?”
“April third.”
“When’s the concert?”
“The twelfth.”
“I’ll be back.” He gets on the computer and logs on to his email’s calendar. “Look at all this shit. Look at this. So much stuff, there’s so much going on. Life is too busy. How can I get anything done with all this life in the way? There’s so much. Last week was crazy. Look at that, appointments every day. I have to put life on hold.”
“That’s the past. You don’t have much coming up.”
“Look. A weekend bachelor party in LA I’m missing. Another in Las Vegas. Two weddings. Doctor’s appointments. Basketball, concerts, appointments.”
“I’m still mad at you.”
“I’m in a bad mood. I’m sorry. I’m grumpy. I just woke up.”
“I’m grumpy too. PMS sucks.”
He’s silent for a minute, looking out the window. I have a view of the downtown, with city lights edging the street leading to more lights in the distance.
“If we’re both grumpy we probably shouldn’t hang out. We aren’t helping each other.”
“I’ll get over it. I’m grumpy because I can’t get mad if you miss the concert because you are sick and that’s not under your control. I can’t get mad because you have a good reason to not be here. I’m grumpy because you are sick and it screws things up.”
“I need to get out of here.”
“I know.”
“I hate it here. I hate the city. No offense, but I have no reason to be here. It’s so ugly. At home, you open the windows, and,” he takes a deep breath, acting out opening the windows. “And everything is green and covered with flowers. And the birds sing. The birds sing. It’s beautiful.”
“This city isn’t that bad. Right now it sucks, but it’s pretty sometimes.”
“I need to go on a walk.” He looks at his reflection in the mirror. “I’m getting so fat.” He goes into my bathroom and I hear him step on the scale. “I’ve gained five pounds.”
“It’s raining outside. We can’t go on a walk. It’s cold and rainy.”
“Want to walk side-by-side on the treadmills in the gym?”
“Not really. If I’m going to work out, I’m going to work out. Want to get dinner or see a movie?”
“Yeah, what’s playing?”
We look up movie times at the theater across the street. There are a few good leads.
“I’m tired. I need caffeine.”
“Starbucks?” I suggest.
“I need to change,” he says.
He leaves to change, and I tell him I’ll be up in a few minutes. I throw on a pair of polka-dot galoshes over my yoga pants and a big gray sweater that falls off my shoulder. I go up to his place. The door’s unlocked. It’s always unlocked when he’s expecting me.
“I’m in the closet. I don’t know what to wear.”
“You’re in jeans? I didn’t know we were wearing real clothes.”
“They’re just jeans. I don’t know what to wear.” He’s holding an argyle sweater.
“Wear that. It’s nice.”
“Do you have any argyle? We could match.”
“No, I don’t own anything argyle.”
“Not even socks?”
“Not even socks.”
“Come in. Pick something out.”
“Your closet’s a bit small for the two of us.”
“Oh yeah.” He steps further into the closet.
“Just wear the argyle. It matches your gray shirt. I need to change if you’re going to wear real clothes.”
“You look great.”
“Thanks.”
He finishes getting ready and we go back to my place. On the way down he starts talking about the a cappella group he was in while at undergrad. He can’t remember the name.
“Speak of the Dark? That doesn’t make sense. Speak of the… speak of the… I don’t remember. Dark? Everything was Blue Devils. That was the mascot, the Blue Devil.”
“We didn’t have a mascot. We had the color blue.”
“Where did you go again?”
“TheBadPlace. You know that, Nick.”
“Oh yeah, I know that.”
“Speak of the Devil?”
“Yeah, that’s it. How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
Goose growls at Nick when I open the door. I go into my room to change into jeans. When I come out, Nick’s found the website for his old a cappella group.
“I arranged this song,” he says as he pushes play.
“I love that song. It reminds me of this guy I dated in undergrad.”
“This part is me,” he says. “Not the solo. The second part.” He points in the air, directing the voices.
“I love it,” I say.
“I miss music.”
“Me too.”
He looks around youtube, looking for video of the group.
“I should play my cello for you,” I suggest.
“I’d like that.”
I get the cello out of my room and start to tune the strings. I haven’t played in six months, at least. A few years ago the A string broke as I was tuning it and the string whipped around to lash my neck. I’m still scared of tuning the A. I hold the body close to me, the wood pressed against my thighs as I slowly adjust the pegs, plucking the taught strings to check their pitch.
“Hold this,” I say, passing him the cello. I get the case from my room and remove the bow. Despite neglect, the bow still has enough rosin, so I tighten it, take the cello from Nick, and play a two octave scale.
“That was great,” he says.
“It sucked. I suck. It’s been at least six months.”
“You missed a note, but it was still great. You’re great.”
“Thanks. Want to play?”
I pass him the cello and he sits down.
“You need to scoot to the edge of the chair. Not that far.” I adjust the way the cello sits between his legs. He grabs the bow and he glides it across the strings.
Dear Nick,
My favorite uncle is in town for my cousin’s graduation from basic training. Last night we had a 2-hour heart-to-heart about life, love, and being honest with yourself.
Yesterday was hard. Chris and I got in a huge fight. I can’t be with him, but I can’t make myself end it. I know I need to; I’m not happy.
I’m scared that I haven’t heard from you since Saturday. You phone was off for three days, and you aren’t returning my call. I even called the house yesterday. Melissa says no news is good news, but God, I’m scared.
Love,
Holly
My favorite uncle is in town for my cousin’s graduation from basic training. Last night we had a 2-hour heart-to-heart about life, love, and being honest with yourself.
Yesterday was hard. Chris and I got in a huge fight. I can’t be with him, but I can’t make myself end it. I know I need to; I’m not happy.
I’m scared that I haven’t heard from you since Saturday. You phone was off for three days, and you aren’t returning my call. I even called the house yesterday. Melissa says no news is good news, but God, I’m scared.
Love,
Holly
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
PMSing and listening to Feist
Dear Nick,
Hi. I miss you. It’s Tuesday, and I haven’t talked to you since Saturday, and your phone is going straight to messages, and your mailbox is full, and I sent you a postcard the other day so you should probably get it tomorrow so call me, okay?
Today was a long day at work. It went from being crazy busy to completely empty, and then crazy busy, and so on and so forth. And I’m still wicked sunburnt and I’m getting fat. I’ve not been good with my eating habits. Or working out. I went to the gym this morning, so that’s good. I’ll go again tomorrow, and the day after, etc. to get back into a good routine. I don’t want to be fat when we see each other again!
So, my mom complained to my brother for a long time about how I need to break up with Chris, how he doesn’t respect or understand me, how he’s so self-absorbed.
Caitlin is having problems with her boyfriend. She thinks she’s falling in love with him. This is what I told her.
I'm going to quote William Blake and say, "we are here to learn to endure the beams of love."
endure being the key word
it emplies struggle, movement
forward motion
the future
a future that is above the present level
but then beams imply light
which makes itself into all situations
so love has ups and downs, but it gets into each situation in it's own way, and sometimes it's a pain in the ass
I’m so bloated.
Love,
Holly
Hi. I miss you. It’s Tuesday, and I haven’t talked to you since Saturday, and your phone is going straight to messages, and your mailbox is full, and I sent you a postcard the other day so you should probably get it tomorrow so call me, okay?
Today was a long day at work. It went from being crazy busy to completely empty, and then crazy busy, and so on and so forth. And I’m still wicked sunburnt and I’m getting fat. I’ve not been good with my eating habits. Or working out. I went to the gym this morning, so that’s good. I’ll go again tomorrow, and the day after, etc. to get back into a good routine. I don’t want to be fat when we see each other again!
So, my mom complained to my brother for a long time about how I need to break up with Chris, how he doesn’t respect or understand me, how he’s so self-absorbed.
Caitlin is having problems with her boyfriend. She thinks she’s falling in love with him. This is what I told her.
I'm going to quote William Blake and say, "we are here to learn to endure the beams of love."
endure being the key word
it emplies struggle, movement
forward motion
the future
a future that is above the present level
but then beams imply light
which makes itself into all situations
so love has ups and downs, but it gets into each situation in it's own way, and sometimes it's a pain in the ass
I’m so bloated.
Love,
Holly
Sunday, June 8, 2008
quotes
Dear Nick,
I just finished reading Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott. I really enjoyed it, and there are some quotes I want to share. Some are more for you, some are more for me.
"Sometimes grief looks like narcolepsy."
Quoting Blake: "We are here to learn to endure the beams of love."
"When a lot of things start going wrong al at once, it is to protect something big and lovely that is trying to get itself born, and that this something needs for you to be distracted so that it can be born as perfectly as possible."
"Grace is having a commitment to--or at least an acceptance of-- being ineffective and foolish."
"Sometimes when you need to feel the all-embracing nature of God, paradoxically you need to hang out in the ordinariness, in daily ritual and comfort."
"Awareness is about learning to keep yourself company."
I don't exactly why they spoke to me, but they did.
love,
Holly
I just finished reading Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott. I really enjoyed it, and there are some quotes I want to share. Some are more for you, some are more for me.
"Sometimes grief looks like narcolepsy."
Quoting Blake: "We are here to learn to endure the beams of love."
"When a lot of things start going wrong al at once, it is to protect something big and lovely that is trying to get itself born, and that this something needs for you to be distracted so that it can be born as perfectly as possible."
"Grace is having a commitment to--or at least an acceptance of-- being ineffective and foolish."
"Sometimes when you need to feel the all-embracing nature of God, paradoxically you need to hang out in the ordinariness, in daily ritual and comfort."
"Awareness is about learning to keep yourself company."
I don't exactly why they spoke to me, but they did.
love,
Holly
first day alone in the new apartment
Dear Nick,
Today, my heart hurts. I took my mom to the airport, and for the first time, I’m by myself in my new apartment. I went for a run, but it was hot and humid and I didn’t make it very far before feeling like my lungs were going to sweat themselves out of my skin.
I’m nervous and scared. I love my friends so much, I don’t know if I want to make more friends. But I’m lonely.
I miss you. Have a great Sunday and call me sometime, k?
Love,
Holly
Today, my heart hurts. I took my mom to the airport, and for the first time, I’m by myself in my new apartment. I went for a run, but it was hot and humid and I didn’t make it very far before feeling like my lungs were going to sweat themselves out of my skin.
I’m nervous and scared. I love my friends so much, I don’t know if I want to make more friends. But I’m lonely.
I miss you. Have a great Sunday and call me sometime, k?
Love,
Holly
Saturday, June 7, 2008
day of suprises!
Dear Nick,
You sounded good today! I wasn’t expecting you to answer the phone, but you did, and gosh, you were your silly old self. I miss that! Also, I was so happy to talk to you and your mom on Tuesday, and your dad on Thursday. I love your family. Gosh, talking to you makes my day better; my soul is happier and more peaceful.
Today my mom and I went bird watching. You know, that’s sooo my thing (sarcasm, extreme.) I was wearing a cute dress and my favorite blue heels and didn’t feel like changing, so I went like that. I’m sure I looked like a fish out of water.
I sent you a picture from one of the missions we went to. It was very beautiful, so serene and completely secluded from the city. You should be getting a postcard of the other place we went to; it’s an old aqueduct built in 1740. These are just two of the stops along the mission trail. There’s a bike path that connects them, and maybe when you’re feeling better and come to visit, we can bike it. What do you think?
Afterward, mom and I went to lunch at this really cute restaurant that serves amazing food. Not 10 minutes after we got there, who should walk in, but Tommy Lee Jones and his wife! I was flabbergasted! I tried to be discrete telling my mom, but she was being a pill and refused to lean in close to me and told me to wait until later. What a pain in the ass. So I whispered it as quietly as I could. She spent the rest of the lunch eavesdropping. I couldn’t, because his voice is relatively low pitch. Other families came in and noticed him too, which confirmed that yes, I was right, it was in fact Tommy Lee Jones. So cool. Oh, and his wife is beautiful. Not made-up, plastic Hollywood, but natural and subdued, with the most beautiful, radiant skin I’ve ever seen. I wish you had been there!
Chris came over tonight. Gosh, it’s so awkward. I can’t get the courage to end it, but I know it’s coming. He knows too.
I miss you. Get better! I’m praying so hard my heart hurts.
Love,
Marion
You sounded good today! I wasn’t expecting you to answer the phone, but you did, and gosh, you were your silly old self. I miss that! Also, I was so happy to talk to you and your mom on Tuesday, and your dad on Thursday. I love your family. Gosh, talking to you makes my day better; my soul is happier and more peaceful.
Today my mom and I went bird watching. You know, that’s sooo my thing (sarcasm, extreme.) I was wearing a cute dress and my favorite blue heels and didn’t feel like changing, so I went like that. I’m sure I looked like a fish out of water.
I sent you a picture from one of the missions we went to. It was very beautiful, so serene and completely secluded from the city. You should be getting a postcard of the other place we went to; it’s an old aqueduct built in 1740. These are just two of the stops along the mission trail. There’s a bike path that connects them, and maybe when you’re feeling better and come to visit, we can bike it. What do you think?
Afterward, mom and I went to lunch at this really cute restaurant that serves amazing food. Not 10 minutes after we got there, who should walk in, but Tommy Lee Jones and his wife! I was flabbergasted! I tried to be discrete telling my mom, but she was being a pill and refused to lean in close to me and told me to wait until later. What a pain in the ass. So I whispered it as quietly as I could. She spent the rest of the lunch eavesdropping. I couldn’t, because his voice is relatively low pitch. Other families came in and noticed him too, which confirmed that yes, I was right, it was in fact Tommy Lee Jones. So cool. Oh, and his wife is beautiful. Not made-up, plastic Hollywood, but natural and subdued, with the most beautiful, radiant skin I’ve ever seen. I wish you had been there!
Chris came over tonight. Gosh, it’s so awkward. I can’t get the courage to end it, but I know it’s coming. He knows too.
I miss you. Get better! I’m praying so hard my heart hurts.
Love,
Marion
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
moved in
Dear Nick,
I’m in my new apartment now. It’s cute.
The drive here was OK, pretty non-eventful. Goose was a good boy and my mom didn’t drive me too crazy. My new place is on the second floor, and there’s no elevator. My neighbors are nice and helped move the heavy stuff.
Yesterday I started bawling after dropping off the U-Haul. I’m here now. I’m really here. I live here, not in the same building as you and all my other friends.
I’ve tried calling you, but you didn’t answer and haven’t returned my calls. At times like these, I feel so alone and like you don’t actually care. But then I keep remembering that time when we said bye once, in my doorway. You hugged me so tight and said that it was too bad that timing was so lousy. It makes my heart hurt to think about that.
Love,
Holly
I’m in my new apartment now. It’s cute.
The drive here was OK, pretty non-eventful. Goose was a good boy and my mom didn’t drive me too crazy. My new place is on the second floor, and there’s no elevator. My neighbors are nice and helped move the heavy stuff.
Yesterday I started bawling after dropping off the U-Haul. I’m here now. I’m really here. I live here, not in the same building as you and all my other friends.
I’ve tried calling you, but you didn’t answer and haven’t returned my calls. At times like these, I feel so alone and like you don’t actually care. But then I keep remembering that time when we said bye once, in my doorway. You hugged me so tight and said that it was too bad that timing was so lousy. It makes my heart hurt to think about that.
Love,
Holly
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