"I Can't Go Back Now"

I listened to Matthew Perryman Jone's "I Can't Go Back Now" on repeat one, and I wrote a thing.

I never meant to fall in love with her. 

I even tried not to. 

Told myself it was just sadness confused, that we would get over his death and then realize we didn't need each other anymore, that the only thing bonding us together was a grief neither of us could carry, but just in that moment, and we could and would learn to carry it alone. 

But holding her right then lessened the grief just a little, and I was looking for any morsel of relief during those days after he died. 

Maggie and I felt it the most after he died. 

Not that other people didn't feel it or grieve, I know they did. 

Just not the way we felt it. 

I remember the first time I met Rex. I was the weird new boy in third grade, braces and glasses and a head so full of useless facts that sometimes they all spilled out when I tried to talk normal. 

None of the other boys liked me, but that was sort of okay with me. I didn't mind playing by myself during recess. 

But then Joey Franklin stole my toy helicopter and refused to give it back and so I did what any other self-respecting eight year old boy would do when the Joeys of the world steal their toys during recess and laugh at them for crying about it - I punched him square in the nose. 

And when Joey ran to Mrs. Feathershed the teacher with his face covered in blood, Rex whispered to me to shut up and waltzed up to Mrs. Feathershed and told her he did it because it was about damn time someone broke Joey's nose. 

Rex was suspended from school for a week for punching Joey, and grounded by his parents for a month for using a bad word. 

But he also gained a new best friend. 

I told that story during my best man speech at Rex and Maggie's wedding. Got a huge laugh from everyone. 

I don't remember what story Maggie's maid of honour told, but it sure wasn't as good as mine. 

That's what I felt about anyone else's friendship with anyone else ever - it wasn't as good as mine and Rex's friendship. 

Maggie once asked me if I was mad at her for stealing my best friend for her own. I told her that I guess I should be, but couldn't because Maggie just felt like an extension of Rex. 

When Maggie showed up at my house a few months after he died, I was listening to Rex's favourite album on my record player. 

I realize how cliche or fateful that sounds, but whatever. Maybe it was both of those things. 

When I opened the door, she tried to pretend like she wasn't crying. 

I didn't know what to say to her, so we stood there staring at each other for a few seconds before she shrugged her shoulders and tried to smile, and the tears poured down her face, and I grabbed her and hugged her as hard and I knew how. 

We laid on my bed and listened to the album all the way through three times and didn't say a word to each other. She rested her head on my chest the entire time, and I played with her hair. 

That was ninety-seven days after he died, and I thought I was just comforting the widow of my best friend. 

That Moving Day Mindset Though

In fifteen days, I get to start over.

I found a new place to live, and these final fifteen days until I get to live there feel like a hundred days.

Obviously I’m excited.

I’m currently sick and couldn’t sleep last night, so as I tried to drift off, I sappily thought about all the wonderful and weird and happy and dramatic and stupid things that happened in this apartment.

Wonderful = My man told me he loved me for the first time in this apartment. That’s the most wonderful thing I could have asked for.

Weird = I grew up in a lot of good but weird ways here. I learned I’m better and healthier living alone, I learned when to keep my mouth shut when I really want to yell at certain individuals when I see them in my neighborhood, I learned what I had to write on work order requests to get the maintenance guys to leave notes when they fix things, I learned to not sweat the small stuff sometimes.

Happy = I discovered who I should keep around in my life, and who is unhealthy. Which was an extremely happy thing for me because I’ve always dealt with being desperate for friends and being wiling to be friends with anyone who smiles at me. But over the past 13 months living here, I figured out who is healthy for me and who’s not.

Dramatic = See above where I said I figured out who was unhealthy. Enough said.

Stupid = Lots and lots and lots of stupid mistakes were made in this apartment. Selfish decisions, saying words that felt great in the moment but weren’t even thought through a little bit, stuffing myself with Taco Bell and Fazzoli’s until I really just wanted to throw up.

I can’t wait for the new wonderful and weird and happy dramatic and stupid and sappy things that will happen in my new home.