No one should find it surprising that the first person I go to, after
this catastrophe of the heart, is Noah. Noah being the bestest best gay
guy friend a confused and heartbroken girl could ask for.
When we
were twelve he was my first kiss. I was his last, as far as women are
concerned. Or girls, since I didn't yet qualify as a woman. When we were
sixteen he came out to me in my parent's basement a week before
Christmas. The next year, a week before Thanksgiving, I told him I was
bisexual. Once again, in my parent's basement.
"He is in love with her." I cry, flopping into his arms before he even has a chance to register what I said.
"What? Who is in love with who?" He is stunned, obviously. Also I just flopped into his arms, so he is struggling to keep me up.
"My life is over!" I say, dramatically.
"Surely it can't be as bad as all that."
"Of
course it can! This is me we are speaking of here. My life is one giant
fuck you from the universe. I might as well give up now." Now, I'm just
being dramatic for the effect and he knows it. He is getting annoyed
and if I don't stand on my own he is going to drop me.
"Maybe you should start from the beginning."
When
I was twelve, shortly after my first kiss from Noah, I met a boy. This
boy was the most gorgeous, most intelligent, most wonderful boy I had
ever met. And I quickly fell in love with him.
Fast forward ten
years and I am sitting in the rectory of a pretty Catholic church. I am
about to be married to the man of my dreams. A boy I have loved since I
was twelve. A boy I have longed for with everything I have for so long I
have nothing left to give. This beautiful, intelligent, wonderful boy
leaves me waiting in the rectory. He leaves me waiting before the priest
and God. He leaves me in my beautiful white dress and tiny white veil,
my cream roses and baby's breath sprigs wilting.
He leaves me
because I admitted to him that I was also in love with my best girl
friend, Alice. I admit that I want her just as much, that I can't live
without either of them. That I am falling into a beautiful insanity
where she loves me too and we are happy forever.
He leaves
because he has fallen just as in love with Alice as I have. And behind
my back, as I planned my wedding and planned my beautiful life with him,
he planned a beautiful life with her. The terriblest of terrible things
is I should've seen it coming. I should've noticed how they often
whispered to each other. Or gazed longingly at one another. But I was in
love with two beautiful stars in orbit around my sun. I didn't know
that I was a star orbiting their sunlight.
I hadn't confessed my
love to Alice yet. I hadn't asked her to be a part of this beautiful
life that I was hoping to have. I was waiting. I was a fool.
We
fought. He and I. I was humiliated. The church took pity on me and gave
me back the money I spent to have the ceremony there. The caterer was
not so generous. Though I did get to keep all twenty-four pounds of
chicken and six pounds of cake. Isn't that sad though? I demanded that
he go through with his promise. That he marry me as he promised he would
when we were young and I first gave myself to him. How foolish could I
be?
Fast forward to just about fifteen minutes ago. We are
standing on the beach. He tried to follow through. He tried to love me. I
think so anyway. Maybe I'm wrong. I have been before. We tried again.
It still didn't work. Its funny how if something doesn't work the first
time it usually doesn't the second time. While we stand on the beach,
both of us fighting our inner feelings, here comes Alice. My second
love, my worst enemy and best friend. What a beautiful bitch. I hate her
right now, truly I do.
And that's when he looks at me and
confesses his true feelings. Now I feel like my heart just went through a
trash compactor. I don't like that feeling.
"You do realize you
didn't have to actually start from the beginning right? Because I mean, I
knew all of that up to the last fifteen minutes."
"You know, you
could be a little more supportive right now!" I begin to cry and I am
all through with the theatrics. These are real, gut-wrenching tears. The
only man I've ever been with, the only man I've ever loved just told me
that he no longer loves me, but is in love with my best friend. Well,
second best friend. And to be honest, I'm thinking that, at this point, I
should probably stop calling her a friend at all. What kind of best
friend steals your man on your wedding day?
"Oh honey, you knew
he was a douche-bag after he left you at the altar. Why in heaven's name
did you think you could make it work after that?" He is right. I hate
that. I don't want him to be right, I want him to hug me and tell me
that David is going to come to his fucking senses and marry me.
"That isn't really what I was hoping you would say, Noah."
"I
know. But at this moment you need sour honesty, not sugar coated lies."
Once again, he is right. I hate him right now. I don't like anyone.
Everyone can just go screw themselves.
He does hug me. Though, at
this point, I'd like to take a bat to his knee-caps for being right.
And, in fact, I'm imagining all the horrific things I would like to do
to David and Alice. Some of it may or may not involve casks studded with
nails, a rocky hill and gratuitous amounts of nudity. Yes, that sounds
like a Grimm vengeance.
"So what are you going to do now?" He
asks. And to be honest, I have no freakin' clue. Blow something up?
Assassinate margaritas until I burst with alcohol poisoning? I have to
think a minute before I do something rash. In the meantime I guess I'll
just listen to a bunch of sad break up songs and commiserate with a tub
of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.
"I guess I'll just go
home and drown myself in ice cream and music. I really don't know what
else to do. I feel like I just lost a major limb or something."
He
hugs me again, squeezing my hand in his. He wants to fix it, because
we've been through everything together, but we both know he can't fix
this one. Not even with dry wit and all the ice cream in the world.
"You
want me to come with you?" He is holding me at arm's length. Searching
my face for any signs that I'll fly off the handle and kill someone. Or
myself. He doesn't need to worry. Yet.
"No. I just really want to
be alone right now. I'll call you tomorrow." I hug him again, he kisses
my cheek and I find myself driving toward my empty apartment.
When
I get there, David has already been there getting some of his things.
He has left a note taped to the refrigerator saying he'll be back to
finish packing up. It says he's sorry. It says he can't love me with
half of his heart. A John Mayer reference, how nice. I suppose I'll
listen to that first.
I kick off my shoes and walk into the
bedroom. Most of the drawers are still open as if a tornado came through
and tore out all of his clothing. He left a few of his t-shirts though.
I don't care if it is wrong, but I need to feel him in some way. I put
on his Red Sox tee and slippy into some fuzzy pajama bottoms. I pad
around the room picking up miscellaneous items he has tossed to the
floor. I see another shirt of his. The one he was wearing earlier. I
can't help myself. I pick it up, press it against my face and begin to
cry.
How can I live without him? How can I even begin to start
over? I have devoted the past ten years of my life to this man. I've
given him everything. My heart, my life, my virginity. I think that last
stings the most too. How could I have been so wrong in my choice? I
sink to the floor, still clutching his shirt to my tear soaked face. I
don't care that my mascara is running and I have snot dripping from my
bright red nose. I don't care that he may come in and see me falling
completely apart. I don't care that I don't even have the strength to
lie to him about it.
Somehow, and I'm not even sure how I found
it, I find the strength to stand and put his dirty clothes in the
washing machine. I find the courage to go into the living room and turn
on some music. I wish I didn't, as soon as I start up the cd player. The
very first song is "Not Over You" by Gavin DeGraw. What a jerk he is,
to be singing my heart right now. Except, I don't even have the strength
to lie to David. If he came in right now, I'd be forced to tell him
that I'll never be over him. I could never possibly get over him, no
matter how hard I would try. I can't be happy for him either. Not for
him and most certainly not for Alice.
I spend my night with that
particular song on repeat, trying to find some semblance of sanity to
cling to. Trying to pull myself together. And failing miserably at it. I
don't even know if I sleep. If I do, I don't dream of anything except
of myself sitting with my knees pulled to my chest on the floor in front
of my purple plaid couch. I dream of myself not moving, only tears
streaming down my face and Gavin DeGraw ripping my heart out because he
is feeling what I am right now.
Things have to get better eventually right?
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