Sometimes, it's just a song that prompts me to write.
It was your birthday, back in 1992, that was the first time I remember that we talked. You'd logged into Lower Lights with 'birthday' somewhere in your name--Birthday Bohemian, wasn't it? I wished you a happy birthday, and we talked, a little. My memory has always been full of holes, and the timing of things gets lost somewhere in the translation, but I still remember that. I still remember, too, the first time I saw you--and how you look almost the same now as you did then...I wish I could say the same for myself.
I remember gaming, and how mortified I was to realize that you gamed with people I'd gone to junior high with--two of whom I'd had schoolgirl crushes on...that I promptly fell back into. How I made a fool of myself more than once in the middle of all that, but I'm probably the only one who remembers how anymore.
I remember Friday Night Coffees, and the time you told me that Indigo Girls had a new album coming out, and I had no idea who they were. I can still remember your face, when I said that--the amused/horrified look. Later that summer, the three of us went to the concert, surrounded by lesbians making out everywhere...or was it Libby and I who found you there? (See? My memory...)
I remember our brief stint at the West Valley Chorus, how self-conscious I was--so much so that I couldn't even sing in front of you...never mind that we'd been singing together for ages before that. How big an idiot I felt afterwards, and how much your voice moved the director, moved me. We were always singing, though--sometimes just the two of us, sometimes the three of us together.
I remember the unheated pool in March (wasn't it March? or was it April?), the need to swim, and the chill that chased us out of the water so quickly, back to the sanctuary of the hot tub. The snow, the music...and the love.
I thought nothing would ever come between us. I remember what it was like, the three of us together, how strong I felt, how much we laughed and shared and enjoyed each other's company. The triumphant triad. All my friendships since then have been measured up against it, and though I wouldn't ever say they've been found wanting...nothing has ever been the same.
And, of course, it was my fault that the trio broke up. Neither of you really liked him, and I couldn't understand until much later. That wasn't the whole of it, but some things are so painful even now that I can't even confess them to myself. He couldn't ever understand why I was so upset--some things, I didn't even tell him--and kept telling me that I'd get over it...which I did, after a fashion. I just learned to live without that part of my life, without the two people who meant more to me than my own family. Oh, how I wish I was a trinity, so that if I lost a part of me, I'd still have two of the same to live. And yet, by my own choice, I was the part that was lost.
It took me a long time to come back to my senses, and even when I did, I was afraid--not because of you, but because of myself. How would things be, now? I screwed up, I knew it, and if the positions were reversed, how would *I* feel? And then I saw you, and you smiled at me--that famous smile, the one everyone who knows you can see in their mind's eye right now--and it was like all that time and space between us had never existed. I couldn't bring myself to reach out to Libby, a mistake which I regret to this very day, but I'd never felt relief quite like I did when I climbed into that car with you and we drove off.
You helped me do what I needed to do, helped me obtain boxes and ferry them to the shipping store to get them sent. Took me to a travel agent to buy my ticket. Helped me escape for a few of those nights when the house was absolutely unbearable. I don't remember how much we talked about it, those years when we didn't see one another, I just remember how much it didn't matter, how much I didn't care.
The night before I left, it was cold, but the top was still off the Land Cruiser. We went to Arby's, because I had a craving, and then we went to Millcreek...which had always been our place (and still is--when I went back this last summer, I swear I could feel the two of you there with me). Still too early in the year for the road up top to be open, so we sat in the car, had our dinner, talked, and looked at the stars. Dark as it was, I was still embarrassed to sing, especially since there was no music for me to fall back on, and I could hear voices coming from somewhere in that night. Even after you started, the fear clutched and grabbed at me, but I joined you anyway. Not very well, but...
It was the best send-off I could have hoped for. My best friend beside me, singing a song we knew by heart, feeling my own heart lift just a little--*heal* just a little. So many years later, I still get goosebumps when I hear the song, and sometimes--like today--the memory is so overwhelming that it makes me cry.
Even though you dropped me off outside, when we came back, he knew it was you, and I almost laughed at the sour look on his face. I had my freedom, I had my friend, and he had nothing. Instead, I went to bed and cried myself to sleep--not with pain, but with the sheer joy of it, the promise of a new beginning, a new life for myself.
We sang again on the way to the airport, shouting really, above the wind in the still-topless 'Cruiser, and that euphoria surrounded me all the way to Washington.
You came to visit me up there once, but it's only because I remember you working for Southwest (was it Southwest?) that I even remember that much. But then...then, there was California.
The first time I saw you was October fifteenth, my company was having some sort of party, so I invited you up for lunch. I was going out later that night with some friends--with the man who eventually became my boyfriend, and I remember being all worked up about that. Amusingly, several of the people who saw us there together assumed that it was you I was so worked up about. But no...we'd settled that between us long before then, hadn't we?
I'll never forget the shock I felt when I realized you knew Brett (and the rest of them) from NERO, and *had* known them for quite some time before then. None of us ever made the connection, not Brett, and certainly not me.
I told Brett about the 'we just fall together' phenomenon, that we start up right where we left off, as if no time at all had passed since we last saw one another. He didn't believe me, until he saw it in action. What a day that was, though--Super Bowl Sunday. I won't forget that one, even though I wish I could.
And now...here I sit, twelve years later. You are my oldest and dearest friend, I can say that without hesitation. The gift of your friendship over the years is a blessing, and something that I won't ever forget.
i don’t know if it was real or in a dream
lately waking up i’m not sure where i’ve been
there was a table set for six and five were there
i stood outside and kept my eyes upon that empty chair
and there was steam on the windows from the kitchen
laughter like a language i once spoke with ease
but i’m made mute by the virtue of decision
i choose most of your life goes on without me
oh the fear i’ve known that i might reap the praise of strangers
and end up on my own
all i’ve sown was a song
but maybe i was wrong
i said to you the one gift which i’d adore
unwrap a package of the next 10 years unfolding
but you told me if i had my way i’d be bored
right then i knew i loved you best born of your scolding
when we last talked we were lying on our backs
looking up at the sky through the ceiling
i used to lie like that alone out on the driveway
trying to read the greek upon the stars
the alphabet of feeling
oh i knew back then
it was a calling that said if joy then pain
the sound of the voice these years later is still the same
i am alone in a hotel room tonight
i squeeze the sky out
but there’s not a star appears
begin my studies with this paper and this pencil
and i’m working through the grammar of my fears
mercy what i won’t give
to have the things that mean the most not to mean the things i miss
unforgiving the choice still is
the language or the kiss