***The following is not meant to be read by anyone. This story is here because I need to get it out of my head. My head is a scary place these days. I'm hoping that by evicting this story from my head, I won't be afraid of being left alone with my thoughts anymore. If you still read this Kait, you might want to skip over this post. I know you won't though, and I'm sorry for that.***
"So what are you going to do while we're having the book club meeting?"
-Shit."Ummmm, I don't know really. I was thinking of calling Rosa. I'll probably just go to the Artisan."
"Well you're welcome to stay. Also, I'm going out after book club, and not to be mean but you can't really come."
I knew where she was going.
"It's ok, I know where you're going."
"Yeah, it's just... you wouldn't want him at your birthday party either."
"Yeah, it's fine. I'll go to the Artisan, and maybe to Teller's with Rosa."
I had been here before. This place was Bay City. This place was Michigan. I had come 800 miles, 12 hours by car, and in 5 minutes he had sent me back there. I hated him. He had been constantly taking Kait away from me, even before I had met her. He was unrelenting. He was evil.
The Artisan was not crowded, my favorite chair was open. This chair was huge, like God's baseball glove, covered in leather and soft like a breast. I could see everyone who walked in the door from my chair, and the adjacent coffee table could hold drinks, books and laptops. I typically had all three. I had been in my chair for 5 minutes, when Rosa walked in. There was some girl with her. This girl was quiet, and inconsequential.
Another boy, Alex, arrived and shared a couch with Rosa and the other girl. Alex was familiar, and I realized later that I met him the night that I met Kait, at Austin Ray's Birthday party. I think we talked about Bright Eyes, in between making fun of the shirtless, hip hop listening, would be frat boys except they were in high school, that had somehow found the party and pulled their cars around back, turning up their stereos in order to demonstrate how worthy they were of becoming sexual partners.
At the Artisan there was a discussion, between the four of us, of what my DJ name should be. I argued that everyone already knows me as Chris Hires, and that creating something else, or even simply adding the letters DJ to it would be gauche and inappropriate. Alex suggested that it should be pronounced the same way, but spelled ChrsHrs. It seems that vowels are superfluous, and unnecessary for naming DJs, placing classified ads, and speaking to 12 year olds on AOL Instant Messenger.
Alex and the inconsequential girl left, to watch "24 Hour Party People" and I took the opportunity to launch into the Kait story. The recent history up to the present. "Let's go to Tellers. This needs to be told with alcohol," Rosa said. I thought it was a splendid idea.
Tellers was also not crowded. Our waitress was cute, blonde and slow. She meant well, but was perhaps not cutout to be at the service of people who needed alcohol to drown their feelings. Beers were had, the complete and unabridged version of the story was told. Everything was included. I talked about Austin's party, the brief but significant history of Brian and I, the history of Brian and Kait, the story of Kait and Jonathan, the story of Michigan and the night before I left, making out on Kait's couch. No detail was spared. Rosa was good, analyzing all the data and telling me what I wanted to hear. She, like everyone, commented on how cute we are together.
We really were cute. You should have seen us. How could you not!? We were like a full moon, unavoidable and omnipresent. We were like art. Art that moves, and breathes, and talks to you at parties, and then goes home to the bedroom to be even cuter, in an intimate way that is not meant to be seen by others.
Theories were shared, and agreed upon. We watched a couple enter the bathroom, and applauded when they finally emerged 15 minutes later. The bar closed, we paid our tab and left. It was 1:15. Kait would be gone by now, it would be safe for me to return.
On 9th Street, Rosa and I said goodbye.
"Cheer up kid."
"Yeah I'm working on it. I'll talk to her either tonight or tomorrow."
"Ok, good."
"I'll see you around, if I don't leave tomorrow." I didn't realize I meant it when I said it.
"Ok, bye."
I went around the corner, into the alley, up the stairs, into her apartment, and passed out on the bed.
3:00
-Something is wrong here.What?
-Look, the pillows, the sheets, they are all intact on her side of bed.So?
-She isn't home yet. The bars are closed, Brian's party should be over and she isn't home. She's still out with him.I need water.
Bathroom, kitchen, cupboard, fridge, sink, bed again.
-She has abandoned you.I'm sure there is some good reason that she's not here.
-She had too much to drink, fell into his kiss. She's there tangled in his sheets, you are here tangled in hers.You are wrong. He cheated on her, he did that to her, so long ago. He is not allowed that anymore. She keeps him at arm's reach.
-This is what she tells you. You think these things, so that you can sleep at night.I hate you. Please leave. I'm trying to sleep.
3:15
-There has been an accident. That is why she is not here.Why is it that you only tell me these things, here in the shadows? Why do you insist on making the dark darker?
-I do this for your own good. I give you a list of many possible truths. You must be prepared for these things.I do not want to prepare. I want to sleep.
-You can't go to sleep now.Kitchen, sink, fridge.
-Drink up.Fridge, sink, living room, couch, kitchen, fridge, sink, bed again.
4:00
-No, not yet. She is not here yet.Bathroom, kitchen, sink, fridge, sink, bed.
4:30
-Still no. She will stay with him. She will come here tomorrow and tell you that she loves him, not you.Bathroom, bed.
5:00
-...Bathroom, bed, sleep.
7:00
-Wake upI don't want to. I'm not ready.
-Wake up, you must look. Look at what has happened.Nothing has happened here. Everything is the same.
-It's 7am. She has not come backIt's time to go.
I entered the living room, full of anger and fear. I walked into the boy room, Marissa's old room that was renamed after it took on a distinct boy smell, not bad but not good, only two days after I began occupying it with my things. Yes, it was time to go. I had not come here for this.
I walked out onto the street, saw downtown Columbia early in the morning. It was my favorite time to see it. The trucks, all unloading alcohol and food, bars and restaurants restocking after being pillaged by thirsty patrons the night before. I walked to my car, to the parking lot. I went the long way, I wanted to see if her car was there, where he lived. I did not see it. Did he live here? Maybe he didn't. Her car was not in the parking lot either. We always parked next to each other. My car was alone, waiting for the return of hers. My car was angry, waiting, impatient. My car had probably been up all night too.
Into the car, chain smoking at this point. I wanted to destroy the world, I wanted to destroy myself. I drove up Rock quarry road at 70 miles an hour, I took its winding curves at 50. My anger made it easy. My anger let me see the cars coming, the deer poking their heads out of the woods. I could win nascar races as long as I was angry. I was the fastest driver in the world, no one could catch me, not even the police.
Back at the apartment. What to pack first? The kitchen! I took my things from the kitchen. My coffee maker, my olive oil, my garlic powder. I took the speech bubble mug I had made months before in Michigan. I left it's twin, the one I had made for her. I wanted her to remember that I had given it to her, that I had created it for her, to make her smile. More things went into boxes, bathroom toiletries and bottles of shampoo. Clothes were placed in duffelbags, zipped and made ready. I had finished by 9:00, and was back on the couch drinking more water, waiting for her. I needed to go to the UPS store, to ship the boxes. There would not be room in my car for them. Still, I sat and waited for her to come and stop me. I needed her to stop me.
I heard her coming up the stairs. This was it! I would get my explanation. I would get the answers to all of the questions I had been asking. I reminded myself that I was angry, that I needed to be stern and intense, so that she would understand this. Kait walked in.
I was an asshole. I couldn't believe I had done this. I looked at her face, she showed me I had been wrong.
-You are an assholeYou told me to do this
-I did not tell you to do this.Yes you did.
"God, that was the worst night EVER."
Someone was in the hospital. Someone was dead.
"What happened?"
"After book club, Kim and I went to the Heidelberg for Brian's party. All of a sudden, all of his friends were gone. Brian was so drunk. He was throwing up everywhere. I had to stay up all night, taking care of him."
I was an asshole.
"And now the Gap just called me, they want me to come in as soon as possible."
I also hated the Gap. The Gap also took her away from me, for hours at a time. I thought of the things I had packed, all the boxes stacked in her room. I had stacked them, so that it looked like I had accomplished something. There was no turning back. I needed to say it now.
"Well, before you go, look in there."
Kait looked, saw the boxes I had stacked so that they could not be ignored.
"What's going on?"
"You need to give me a reason to stay here. If you don't, I will be in Texas by the time you get home from work."
She sighed. "I'm going to go take a shower."
This was incredible. I was not going anywhere. I was going to stay here, block the door if I had to, until she answered me. I stayed on the couch. I had been here before. I had been on this couch, on my back, staring at the ceiling. I had thought these thoughts. I had wondered how things had changed, how I had not seen it. I wondered, knowing all along, if it was over. I wondered how bad this was going to hurt.
She was back.
"So... I don't know what to say to you."
"Well, I feel like something, at some point, slipped. At some point between when I was going to come here, and when I actually came here, something slipped."
"Yeah."
"Here is my interpretation, and I could be wrong, but this is what I think. You obviously know that I have feelings for you."
"Yes."
"And I feel like you have feelings for me too. I think that you are holding back, because you know that I'm going to leave eventually and you don't want to get hurt. Is that true?"
"Partly."
"....Ok."
"I mean, I like you, and I really like having you here. I really just... enjoy your company, you know? But..."
(Time passed, bombs were dropped, babies were born, people were diagnosed with cancer. Somewhere in the world, at this moment, two people were having sex.)
"...I just don't think I have those feelings for you."
Something was in my head, eating the back of my brain.
"I have to leave. I can't stay here."
"Really? You have to leave now? Right now?"
"I never wanted to be your friend Kait. I can't be here anymore, it will be too painful."
"So you're just going to go? I'm going to go to work, and I'll come back and you won't be here anymore?"
"Yes....
...Did you ever have feelings for me? When I was in Michigan, when we set this whole thing up, when we were calling each other every night, did you have feelings then?"
"Yes. I think that I just talked myself out of it, because I knew you were going to leave eventually."
I was not mad. Why wasn't I mad? I had seen this conversation a dozen times during the last week. I had seen myself crying, screaming, throwing things against walls. How could she have done this to me? To have me come all the way here, only to be her friend? She had screwed me over twice. Why wasn't I angry? I told her this.
"I'm not angry. I thought I would be, but I'm not."
"I feel like this is all my fault."
I couldn't take all the blame for this one. I had taken it in the past, hoping that she would not feel bad about the things she had done to me. I never wanted her to feel bad. I wanted her life to be easy and painless. But this, this was beyond my reach.
"Well, part of it is."
"I never wanted this to happen. I feel like I'm 'that girl' again. I didn't want to hurt you."
"I know."
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
This went on for an hour. It took time for me to convince her that I needed to leave, that my feelings for her were so overpowering, that they would prevent me from staying. I explained my fear of being a "number", a term I had coined myself. I was, still am, terrified that I will be remembered by her only as the boy who came after Brian, before Jonathan, and almost after again after Jonathan but then things went wrong. I am afraid of becoming one of many, of blending in with the crowd, of being filed in the "ex boyfriends" stack, only to be revisited once or twice a year when she sees her mug in the cabinet, or the cd I made for her on the shelf. She will always be so much more than that to me. The difference between those two results is unfair, it should be illegal. I felt awful. How could I do this to her? She had been up all night, and now had to go to work. I pictured her crying alone in a dressing room at the Gap. This was not right.
There was hugging, apologizing. We soaked it up. We wanted to absorb each other, carry this with us. Finally she said "I have to go now," and ran out the door. I heard her start to cry on the way down the stairs, and when I heard the door slam I collapsed onto the couch and the tears came. They came for the first time in 4 years. I welcomed them. This was the first time a girl had caused their presence. Forced myself to stop, realizing that I had much to do.
I went to the UPS store with 5 boxes, a trashcan full of dirty clothes, and two skateboards. I bought a large box for the things not in boxes, and then shipped it all out. "I'm moving" I said the the man who took the packages. He did not say anything back to me.
I came back to the apartment, to load the remaining boxes and bags into my car. Kait's roommate Sarah was awake now, on her computer in her room. Had she heard us? Maybe she knew. Maybe she knew all along. Why hadn't she told me then? Maybe she had slept through it. I didn't say anything to her. I needed to pack. It took an hour to get it all in my car. It was hot out, and people kept walking down the alley. Some of them wondered what I was doing, others I think knew what was going on. They looked at me, and knew what had happened. Perhaps it had happened to them once.
Back in the apartment Sarah said "What the heck are you doing?" She was clueless. She had no idea that anything had been going on. I explained it to her. She was sufficiently sympathetic. I was glad that she was not too emotional about it. It would have felt forced, and uncomfortable.
The CDs! I remembered that Kait had stolen several CDs out of one of my boxes, saying that she was going to add them to her music collection, that I would never be able to tell which ones were hers and which were mine. The joke is that Kait's music collection was already perfect, better than mine. It was not too big, concise and well edited. She even had the Rival Schools album. That was always one of my favorite things about her, her record collection. I went into her room and did my best to distinguish which ones were hers and which were mine. Some were easy, there were duplicates. The German techno, the Jay Z albums, these were easy to find. She had no use for these. The ones that I was unsure of, I left for her.
I borrowed stationary and a pen from Sarah, and sat on her floor and wrote a note. It was filled with apologies and compliments, all flowing from a regret, perhaps the largest regret I've ever had, that I will not know her now. I will not know here when we are old, I will not see how wonderful her life is, I will not share in that. I wanted her to know that I regret it. I folded it, and put it on her bed. I said goodbye to Sarah, and went down stairs and got in my car and left.
I left, and I was gone.
