Holding My Breath

My Grandmother died. My Mom told me a few days after it happened, I was in the Poconos and I cried about how sorry I was and she asked me to put Matt on the phone and she told him to hug me, which he did. Later, I talked to my Dad about feeling responsible for terrible things and he told me that these things are not in my control. After that, things were different.

I went to New York City. I saw Josiah and then I saw Clayton later that same day. We made out under a security camera in the game room of a dorm on 96th Street while employees were giving tours of the facilities and I thought more than once, "who am I?"

Adam educated me on the uses of the Kraken late in the night at Dunkin Donuts and pulled some tinsel from my hair. I tried my best to re-hard wire myself to respond to fucked up politics with a swift and mighty smiting of the Kraken but I still need practice. I came down from Rochester one more time to see a friend in New York I had missed the first time around and to see my old high school friend in Philly. In New York, this friend asked the table whether it is ok to date younger men (younger than ourselves). I said absolutely. In my experience they are actually more mature. She went on to claim that she was pretty sure this boy was a virgin and, if so, she certainly wouldn't date him. I had to stop her there before I jumped out of the booth. She and our other friend at the table insisted that there is a serious difference between a 25 year old female virgin (this is, apparently, fine) and a 25 year old male virgin (this is, in her words, a sure sign of a "psychosis"). When I asked why she was considering dating him she said she hadn't had sex in months. As I went off about how deeply and unnervingly fucked up this conversation was, I ended up getting the brunt of the blame for "not understanding" even though it is me and not them who spends the majority of her time contemplating the positionalities of late-life non-religious virginity in America. The words "essentialist" and "more than two genders" had no effect on the conversation. Fortunately, I received a phone call and excused myself from the table for a half hour. Kraken or no Kraken, I tried my best. It is exhausting to keep battling dear friends as they unwittingly remove themselves from my trust and confidence. Another tally on the wall.

Jeff asked to see me when I get back to California. Of all people, I never expected to hear from him again. I couldn't believe it. When I told him what day I would be free he replied that he was "booked" for that evening but he was free during the day. I realized that, without even knowing it, I had been holding my breath for him. I let it out. There was no reason to hope that he had changed. His concise, unfeeling language still hurt, even now.

I told Vegan Liz that I needed guidance. I said, I am definitely going to see him so what I need to know is how I can see him and sustain the least amount of emotional damage. She said to me:

This reminds me of something else you wrote... "I used to marvel at the paradox that, radical as we are in all other departments of our lives, in the area of love we make the greatest concessions to people who deserve them the least. We return again and again to people who make us feel like we are being raped when we have sex. We come running through the darkness taking countless trains and buses to sit up all night with people who would never do the same for us. We wait for promised phone calls that we know will never come. We write poems for monsters who will never read them with the attention they require. We bear witness to their struggles in spite of our own, in spite of ourselves. What we are making with these people is not love but lies. By dint of our radical political beliefs, we already feel largely isolated in our work and are engaged constantly in battle. Such is the condition, perhaps, that causes us to move the bar lower and lower, letting just about anyone into our hearts. Why? Because, we tell ourselves, it is better than being alone."

I was shocked. How could I forget that I had said that? I laughed. I said, I'm feel like I'm destined to have the same revelation over and over again. Liz replied, "you're human."

So where do I go from here?

Each time I thought about Jeff for the rest of the day felt like being punched in the stomach. I could see that I was setting myself up but the clarity of that vision wasn't helping me to change my course. I decided I needed some clue as to how much of myself I should invest in seeing him. I asked if he wanted to hang out for the day or just meet up really quick. When he said, "the whole day!" my heart burst into butterflies and I immediately broke the bank. Shortly after this, however, I began to feel nervous and sick and afraid.

I never really ate a peach before I met you. Never let the juice run down my chin and fingers. Never washed my hands of the nectar with a half bottle of lukewarm water and backwash over the grass. Never ate more soft peaches out of the arm rest days later in lieu of breakfast.

It took me so long to get over you. I couldn't divorce the fruit from our afternoons. I had to stop buying peaches all together. I couldn't look out bus windows for weeks without thinking of you. Stores had to change their signs, go out of business. The landscape had to change itself.

In the parking lot of the lumber store in Pittsford I told my Dad that if I were my strongest self I wouldn't go but, I'm going, so what should I do? And he said, "if he says something - leave. Just walk away."