Afteward....

I had known you forever and had loved you just as long.    But the notion of love seemed to lose it’s novelty when the girls began to stand outside your house, your hotel, greeted your plane everywhere you went. All these girls professed their love for you and in many cases I think they believed that they meant it. Still, you heard the words so often they began to mean nothing. They were simply words. The words girls used like Kleenex. Words to be used and quickly thrown away. I wanted to tell you these words, to shower you in them, but I knew that they would simply be that to you, words. So, I set out to show you. Make love an action verb.
That balmy spring afternoon, I pulled my car up next to the curb. You had called to beg me to come pick you up because it was raining. You cried that you were indeed made of sugar and would surely melt if you had to walk home in the rain. As I pulled up my parking brake, I looked around to see if I could see you. I noticed your backpack and jacket piled under a tree, but I couldn’t see you and my heart dropped to my feet. I waited for a few minutes, but you didn’t reappear. So, I opened my car door and put the umbrella up before stepping out into the Tulsa storm. I moved slowly over toward the backpack and jacket. Sitting on top of your jacket was a note in your backward-slanting handwriting. “Come and find me!” I looked around, expecting you to jump out from behind a tree, a dumpster, another parked car. Still, I couldn’t see you, but I knew you were there.
Soon, I could hear your inevitable singing. I stepped around the tree and there you were, lying in the middle of the lawn, letting the rain soak you through. I noticed a collection of girls standing at the windows of the library watching you. You were gloriously oblivious to the commotion around you. I heard some of the girls calling out your name. But you, being you, ignored all of them. I stepped onto the wet lawn and quietly I called your name. As soon as you heard my voice, you stopped singing whatever song had caught your fancy for that moment. When you saw me you jumped up and ran towards me. You grabbed the umbrella out of my hand and threw it in the air. You swept me into your arms and spun me around and around... Soon, we fell to the grass a wet heap, giggling, our breath heaving in and out of our chests. My dark hair mingled wetly with your blond hair. I closed my eyes and just let your lips suck the water off my face and neck. You told me then that you might love me.
As early summer descended, you became my constant companion. You would call and tell me that you were on your way over. I would step out onto the fire escape and watch for you. It didn’t matter that you lived about half an hour away from downtown Tulsa.   I still waited for you, watching the heads of those who passed below, willing one of them to become a blond head. I remember one specific afternoon; you called. You asked if I was going to be home. What a silly question! For you, I was always home.

Moments after we hung up, I climbed out onto the window ledge, to watch the busy road beneath my apartment, watching for your car, for your head. Your beautiful head. I was always amazed by the plans that you cooked up behind your caramel colored eyes, below all your long blond hair. As we ran through an airport, because you had wanted lunch at Tavern on the Green, I would wonder why this was such a good idea. As I floated down the river in an innertube, fighting off mosquitoes and any number of flying things, I would wonder how you again talked me into doing something I didn’t want to do. Still, even when I would fight against you, I would have more fun than I ever thought possible.
Your power over me was a mystery. It was so strong and inexplicable. I did and tried anything you suggested. You were my every thought. Soon, I saw you saunter around the corner. And really, there is no other way to describe your walk. You always seemed to be on an unhurried stroll, walking aimlessly from point to point. How could someone as driven as you be so seemingly directionless? Often, I just watched you, the way you moved and wonder what exactly was going on inside that head of yours. You smiled and nodded at the people on the street who recognized you. Your hands were sunk deep into the pockets of your shorts. You stopped to look in the store across the street from my apartment. Something in the pet store caught your eye. You disappeared.
After what felt like an eternity, you stepped out of the store, a bag of supplies in one hand and a wire cage in the other. You sat on the bus bench in front of the store, talking to your hands. I watched as you sat enraptured, your eyes glued to your tiny new purchase, your hair blowing in the wind. When you eventually remembered why you had come to this street, to this place, you looked up and your dark eyes glowed with happiness when you saw me watching you. You came bounding across the street carrying your purchases. I noticed poking out of the pocket of your t-shirt was what looked like a naked rat. You reached into your pocket and introduced me to Milwaukee the hairless rat. He quickly scampered up your arm and around your neck, hiding in your hair. He eventually peaked out from behind your ear, his nose twitching in my direction.
The cool early days of summer had slid headfirst into the sultry days of late summer when the knock on my door came. I pulled the door open to find you standing before me. Your long hair pulled back into a careless ponytail, your shorts riding low on your hips, your wifebeater almost translucent with the fine sheen of sweat you were bathed in. Your ever-present new friend perched on your shoulder. Milwaukee traveled with you everywhere on your shoulders, nesting in his hair. I was happy to see you then, but you couldn’t seem to find the energy to even hug me. When I asked you what was wrong, you simply told me it was hot. You wouldn’t step into the apartment, simply stood watching me with your enormous brown eyes filling with tears. “Babe, what’s wrong?”
You just shook your head and turned away from me. For the first time ever, you turned your back on me. I stepped out into the hall and watched you bounce down the steps. “Zac?” I yelled after you. “Zac?!” You didn’t even stop. You pulled the door open and disappeared. I ran over to the door out onto my fire escape. You were crossing the street. “Zac! Please, answer me.... Zac!!” You disappeared around the corner. I scrambled across the floor and grabbed my phone. I punched in the familiar numbers. It rang once, twice, three times, before I heard the voice that made it all alright. “Zac, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know...”
“Why didn’t you stay?”
“Cause, if I stayed for a minute, I’d want to stay forever....”
“You could you know, you could stay forever.” It was too hot to cry and yet, the tears slid down my cheeks. “I wouldn’t mind...”
“I don’t have forever to give anyone...” You sighed a deep, heartbreaking sound. “I leave for LA tonight... I don’t think I can say goodbye to you anymore... And, I can’t...”
“Can’t what?”
“Nothing...”
“What’s wrong?” Your silence stretched longer and longer. “Zac, this is me. You can tell me anything...”
“I can’t say goodbye and I can’t take you with me. Leaving you breaks my heart...”
But Zac, the thing is, I never wanted forever. I never asked you to stay with me forever, I just wanted you for the time I could have you. Your hand holding mine was all I wanted and it was what you were denying me. I would lie in my bed and imagine what you were doing right at that exact moment. This gave me more types of joy than I can ever number. I would close my eyes and see you so strong, so substantial beating your drums into submission, singing as though each word was contained within your last breath, writing maniacally, hunched over your familiar tattered notebook.
I dreamed of you at the beach. We ran and sang and jumped in the waves. Taking comfort in what was so elemental. Building sandcastles, writing words in the sand. Our day would end with us sitting on the shore of the ocean watching the waves wash clean the shore, destroying the cities we had built, erasing the words you had carved in the sand. Each time I awoke, I cried my own ocean of salty water.
The night you returned from LA was the first time you stayed. It was the first night of fall; the moon was full. I had been missing you more than usual. I was in my living room, sitting in the patch of brilliant moonlight, sketching your face from memory. The pencil filling in the shadows only I get to see. The soft strains of some random jazz played softly behind me. As I smudged the shadows in the drawing, I said your name softly, a wish for the summer to be over and you to walk through my door. I didn’t even realize I had fallen asleep, until I heard the footsteps pounding up the steps. I lifted my head. I would have thought it was you, but you were still in Los Angeles.
When the knock came, I jumped. I pulled myself up slowly and padded gently to the door. When I pulled the door open, you were smiling a crooked, rueful smile at me. “Don’t you ask who it is before you open the door?” I tried to answer him and yet, I couldn’t open my mouth. “You have nothing to say? I have so much to tell you, so maybe your silence is a good thing...”
“Zac, I’ve missed you so much.”
“Yeah?” You said flopping down onto the sofa. “Come sit by me.” I sat next to you, drawing in your scent, reveling in your new body. You wrapped your arm around me, pulling me close. I could feel your muscles expand and contract with each breath; I could feel the rumble of words deep within your chest. “I’ve missed you too. And as the plane was flying into Tulsa, all I could think about was that you were somewhere out there… Waiting for me.”
“You were so sure I was waiting for you?” I asked looking into your eyes. Eyes so soft and deep. Everyone always makes such a big deal out of your brothers blue eyes, but they just don’t have the depth, the intelligence of yours. “Maybe I opened the door without asking who was there cause I was waiting for my date. Ever thought of that?”
You laughed. Not just a small laugh, but a deep belly laugh. You reached out and touched my cheek. “Well, I hope your date likes you in charcoal, cause you have it all over your face.” You showed me the tips of your fingers covered with charcoal. You kissed me then. You had kissed me lots of times before, but this time… This time, there was something different, more meaningful behind your lips. Soon, you were kissing my neck, my eyes, my ears.
“Zac, you’d better stop.” I said my breath hitching in my chest as he pulled my earlobe between his lips.
“I don’t want to stop.” You whispered, your breath so hot and so close. “Can I stay forever?”
I didn’t have to answer... You knew my answer. You stayed and filled the apartment with your presence. We spent our time drawing pictures of each other, listening to old CD’s, playing with Milwaukee. We ordered take out, food from places where we would never actually eat. I would lay on the floor with, my head on your stomach, listening to you breathe, listening to your heartbeat, listening just to you. You would tangle your fingers in my long hair, tell me that you loved me cause I had better hair than you. You were full of jokes, full of love, full of life.
Your cell phone began to ring four days later. Your brothers began to call. You would joke that Grandpa and the Diva could live without you. But as the phone became more insistent, you knew you had to go. I smiled as you stood at my door, a perfect fall afternoon, with a light breeze whipping your hair around your face. The tears in your eyes told me more than the whispered apologies and confessions of your love. You promised you’d be back soon and then you would give me forever. But Zac, I never asked you for forever.
As the fall turned to winter, I hardly noticed the season change. The days grew colder so gradually, I didn’t realize I was wearing my winter coat until you called to tell me you’d be home, be back in Tulsa soon. You excitedly told me about the Christmas gifts you had bought me from strange and exotic boutiques in Los Angeles. I lied and told you that I wouldn’t be in Tulsa for Christmas. I lied and told you that I was going to be at my dad’s in Florida. I lied and told you that I was leaving that night and that I didn’t want to see you. I could hear the hurt and disbelief in your voice. But you must have believed me cause I didn’t hear from you once during the holidays.
But the reason why I didn’t want to see you had nothing to do with anything that you know about. You see, I didn’t want you to see me. I should have known you would come home for my birthday. All my life I’ve been called “my funny Valentine” by my mother and it had bothered me. I hated it. I hated that I never got just birthday cards, but valentine cards with “Happy Birthday” written on them. I hated that most of my life my mother dressed me in pink and red. I hated that I was born on a holiday invented by Hallmark. I hated it, until that year.
When you showed up on my doorstep with armloads of roses, candy and multiple cards, I learned to love that not only was I born on February 14th, but that my name was Candy and that you sang “My Funny Valentine” to me. You stood before me running your fingers through my suddenly short hair. “What happened to your hair?” You asked.
“I had to have a short round of Chemotherapy.” I said looking at him through my eyelashes. “I had some abnormal cells, they caught it early, got it all. But I had to have Chemo. I know, I look horrible.”
“No, you don’t!” You said scooping me up in your arms. “I just wish you had told me. I can’t believe you went through that alone. I would have done anything to be here with you. Candy, quit your job, come back to LA with me.”
“I can’t.” I said.
“But…” You began, a new and adorable whine in your voice.
“Zac…” I mimicked. You picked me up off the floor and carried me into my room. I loved you at that moment more than I had ever felt anything in my life. And, we made love an action verb.
This time, when you left, you left me with Milwaukee. The fattest, ugliest, nakedest rat ever and something you loved. I kissed you as you climbed into the driver’s seat of your Explorer. I even promised you forever, although forever was never what I wanted. The cold, freezing rain was painting downtown Tulsa with a shiny varnish. I waved one last time as you rounded the corner, your hand out the window.
You had been gone about 6 hours, I was sitting on the couch letting Milwaukee crawl up and down my legs. His tiny claws tickled me. He climbed onto my arm and up towards my head. He loved to nest in your long hair, but I didn’t have any hair at all. He stood on his hind legs and sniffed at my lips, his cold nose touching mine. He had your smell on him still. He smelled like something that lived in your pocket. Probably, because he was. I slung him up on my shoulder and headed into the kitchen. I missed you already, every time you left me, I felt like someone had reached inside my chest and had unhooked something vital. I set Milwaukee down on the counter and he scampered about eating the crumbs left behind from your overly exuberantly poured bowl of Life cereal. You had sat on the counter eating cereal and watching me smooth the dye through my hair. The hair had grown back in with a lot of gray. You had laughed as the color had bled down the back of my neck. I washed your bowl that you had left in the sink. The phone rang scaring me. I dropped the bowl into the sink and it shattered.
“Hello?” I said into the phone. I was only half listening. I was mostly picking up the pieces of the bowl in the bottom of the sink.
“Candy?” A quiet male voice asked.
“Yeah?” I answered leaning against the counter. Milwaukee climbed up my arm, nuzzling under the collar of my shirt.
“This is…” The voice broke, a small, tired sob ripping the words out of his mouth. “This is Taylor, Zac’s brother.”
“Oh, okay.” I said puzzled. “How are you?”
“Candy…” He said his voice sounded so sad. “There was an accident…”
I didn’t hear another word your brother said. Suddenly my head was filled with the sound of too many angry sounding bees, with the sound of thousands of girls screaming as you walked out on the stage, with the sound of total loss. He continued to make sounds, but the sounds had little or nothing to do with actual words. Finally after what felt like an eternity, I remembering telling him thank you, telling him that I would be at the church next Wednesday, telling him how sorry I was. I hung up the phone. And the sound in my head stopped.
In fact, everything stopped. I turned and looked around my small apartment and you were everywhere. You can’t be gone, cause I could see you in every nook and cranny of my apartment. Your existence testified by the blonde hair stuck to the back of the couch, by the half full glass of Dr. Pepper, by the scrawled left handed notes and the messy fingerprints on the wall. You can’t be gone, cause you are everywhere.
I walked over to the window and pulled it open. The cold air hit me like a blast. I climbed out onto the fire escape, my eyes glued to the corner you always came around when you came to my house. I sat there waiting for you. You had to be coming, you just had to be.
I don’t know how long I sat in my shorts and your sweatshirt on the fire escape. But I was going to just sit there until you came home.
Come home to me.
I must have sat there for hours, quite literally. By the time my sister heard the news, it was almost 10:30 at night. She found me sitting curled into as small a ball as I could get. My lips were blue, my chin quivering, ice in my hair. She pulled me back into my cold apartment. She helped me into the bathroom, she carried me mostly and sank me into the bathtub. She turned on the warm water and gathered me into her arms. She was crying, but I didn’t know why. Once I stopped shivering, she gathered me into her arms and led me back into my bedroom, bringing me a glass of warm milk and a pill. A small yellow pill. I took it and curled up in the flannel sheets that still held your warmth.
“Candy, how are you?”
“Sissy, where’s Zac?”
“He’s dead sweetheart.”
“No, he can’t be.” I said as my mind turned off. I was soon drifting along, swept along a river of memories of you. Eventually, Sissy climbed into bed next to me, wrapping her arms around me, her arms weren’t nearly as strong as yours. I missed your strength. And as she lay there humming softly to me, I realized, you weren’t coming back. I lay still, waiting for her to fall asleep, her fingers gentle in my hair. When she finally rolled away from me, I got out of my bed and stumbled out into the living room. I searched for the phone, you had such a habit of not hanging it up. When I finally found it, I dialed your number. It rang once, twice, three times. Then the voicemail picked up. Your voice filled my head.
“Hey and welcome to my voicemail. I am currently out mud wrestling with Candy, if you need me, too bad. Cause you wouldn’t be nearly as much fun to wrestle with. Leave me love and I’ll send some back to you.”
I must have called your voicemail about 15 times, just to hear your voice. On the 16th call, it didn’t go to voicemail. A sad, sleepy voice answered. “Hello?”
“I’m sorry, I was…”
“Candy?” The voice asked so quietly I couldn’t be sure it asked my name.
“Yes.”
“This is Taylor.”
“I just… just wanted to hear his voice.”
“I know. He loved you, you know.” He said tears flowing with his voice. “He missed you so much when we were in LA.” As I sat slumped on the floor, Milwaukee climbed up onto my leg. Scampering up the length of my body, snuggling against my neck. “You and that horrible rat… They didn’t find Milwaukee in the wreck.”
“No, they wouldn’t have, he’s here with me.”
“Keep him.” Taylor said. The silence started small, but grew, quickly. I sat and listened to his beloved brother’s labored breathing. Soon, the silence was huge, too big for me to conquer. I waited for him to speak. “I’d better go. I’m glad you called, that I got to tell you something I’m sure he never actually said. I guess, I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“I don’t know if I can go.” I said closing my eyes as my own tears finally broke free.
“I don’t want to go.” Taylor said. “Cause that’ll make it all so real.”
“Do you think I’ll wake up and find it’s all been a dream?”
“If it is a dream, when you wake up, will you let me know?” Taylor said his voice sounding eerily like yours. “Cause, really, I want this nightmare to end.”
Neither of us said goodbye. We just hung up the phone. I sat listening to my sister snoring in the next room, to Milwaukee digging in the sawdust in his cage, to the too loud silence you left behind, to the soft scratching this pen in making as it sullies the perfect page.   I don’t think I can survive this, survive you.
I read these words and find it hard to believe that I survived you. I can’t believe that an entire year has passed. A year is only 365 days and yet, I’ve missed you a lifetime.
I read the things I remember of you and find that they are no longer vivid; they are soft, muted by time. Your presence doesn’t take over my room anymore. I miss you more than I can ever express and yet, I find the pain lessens with each passing day. I don’t know if the pain has gone away or if I’ve grown accustomed to it. But now, my sorrow for your passing is a companion I take with me everywhere I go. You are like this journal entry, poignant, perfect and finished.