Date...Part 2

I didn’t sleep as well as I had wanted last night. I find myself moving at a snail’s pace into the salon. I quietly set up my station and walk to the break room, trying to figure out what’s going on in my head. I had a really good time last night. Figuring out what all this feels like and putting it out there is impossible right now.
“How are ya?” Amber walked up to me.
“I’m a little crazy. How are you?”
“Yeah, I’m ok. What’s going on?”
“It’s everything. It’s moving, and all that. I don’t have much time left here. That and I went on a date last night and had a great time.” I smile.
“Really! How’d you meet?”
I told her the story of the haircuts, coffee etc…
“That’s so fun!”
“It is! I had a great time but I’m leaving! Lord! I miss Rob a lot today too. Everything is still moving forward but sometimes, I‘m over here looking back.”
She nods, hugs me and I cry.
“I wish I understood.” she tells me.
“You don’t want to understand.” I smile.
We each go about our morning routine and start our first clients. After I finish my third one I join Timothy at his station.
“Sooo… How was last night?” he smiled.
“So fun!” I laughed. “I feel kinda crazy today though. I want to tell him about Rob. I feel like it’s this thing that I have to get out of the way. I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Tell him. It’ll explain any weird off the wall moods you might be having.”
“I will.” I nod. “I think I’m going to see him tonight.”
“Good.”
My work day ends and I text my client. He calls and is out with a friend watching the Georgia game.
“Can I call you after the game?”
“Yup.”
I go home, shower, and read for a little while. I don’t know how much time has passed when my phone rings, starling me. I smile when I see my client’s number appear.
“Hi!”
“Hey cutie, how are you?”
“Good. Tired. You?”
“I’m good. You wanna hang out?”
“I do, but I’m not gonna last too much longer.”
“That’s Ok. I’m pretty tired too. Come whenever though.”
We get off the phone and I drive over to see him and his friend on the porch, both of them leaning back in comfy chairs, talking. It’s chilly outside but the air is still and the sky is clear.
“Hi!” I smile at my client, then introduce myself to his friend before sitting down in a chair across from them.
They go back and forth telling stories, cracking me up, although I feel I have nothing to contribute so I remain quiet and listen. I’m not sure how long we’re out there before my client’s friend announces he has to go. We all say our goodbyes and I head inside with my client.
“I’ll be right back.” he tells me and disappears while I gingerly lay myself across his bed on my back. I’m staring at the ceiling wondering when am I going to unload all this on him.
When he returns he lays down next to me on his side. “So what’s this family thing you have to do tomorrow.”
My heart stopped. I completely forgot I told him I was doing family stuff the next day. Family meaning Rob’s family.
“Um. Well. Funny you should ask. I was just trying to figure out how to tell you this.”
He’s quiet. My eyes are still fixated on the ceiling but I feel his eyes on me. I feel the part of my brain that shuts down when something gets hard turn itself off and without warning my mouth is taking words and making them into sentences, explaining the events between the months of February and April.
“So two weeks after I accepted the job in Chicago, Rob was killed in a car accident. I blinked and my life changed.” my mouth closed and my eyes remained on the ceiling.
“I’m so sorry.” he said quietly. “You have my deepest sympathies.”
“Thank you.” I say to the ceiling.
Out of the corner of my eye I see his arm reach around me. He pulls me into him, wrapping me up in a long, warm, hug and didn’t let go. I tried to inhale him, to relax, but my mind was still shut off. When he unwrapped me I went back to the ceiling.
“I was mad at him that morning.” I volunteered. “I couldn’t shake it and knew something wasn’t right. The whole day I had this uneasy feeling.”
I told him about being at work, walking home, then getting coffee.
“My dad called and told me. I spent a week with my parents, moved Rob out of his place, spoke at his funeral, took more time off and wrote a lot…” I trailed off and stopped talking when there was no response from my client. I don’t know what the protocol is for all this. I don’t know what is too much information and what isn’t. My head opens up sometimes and I will volunteer the most random things sometimes.
He props himself up on his elbow and looks at me. “I want you to know that if you ever need anything, anyone to talk to, whatever, you can talk to me. No matter where you are, you can call me.”
The sincerity playing across his face fills me up. “Thank you.” I nod. I feel silly for being able to cry at the drop of a hat yesterday and yet today, as I’m telling the story I’m completely void of anything. He pulls me to him again and my head is resting on his chest.
“You’re a really strong person.” he says after a while.
I look up at him. “Seriously. Why does everyone say that? I don’t see it, and I don’t understand it.”
“You’re moving forward. You didn’t stop living. That takes a lot of strength.”
I didn’t see where I had a choice. I didn’t want to go the other way.
The subject slowly starts to change. I’m there for a little while longer before I feel my eyes getting heavy.
“I have to get going darlin’.” I pull myself up.
“Ok. Will I see you tomorrow?”
I nod and smile.
He walks me out and I drive home feeling a million times better for getting all that out. I fall into bed once I’m home and sleep finds me easily.

Date...

I went to work on Friday and saw that a particular client I have a bit of a crush on was my first appointment. I cut his hair once, a couple months ago and really enjoyed his company. I was happy to see him again before moving.
“I’m back!” he exclaims, sitting down in my chair.
“I’m glad!” I laugh.
“You did a great job so more of the same would be great.” he tells me.
“Deal.”
I get him shampooed and start cutting. We talk about what’s been happening in between his last haircut and now. I tell him about Chicago.
“You’re leaving me?” he turns to face me when I stop cutting.
“Kinda.” I grin. “I’ll be back to visit.”
“That’s not the same! Who’s gonna cut my hair? I finally find someone who does a good job…” he trails off.
“I’ll get you set up with someone else in between my flying back and forth.” I‘m still grinning.
He smiles back then we continue our non-stop talking until I’m done cutting.
“Do you have someone right after me?” he asks.
“I have an hour in between you and my next one.”
“Whatcha gonna do?”
“Get coffee.” I know where this is going and my face is heating up.
“May I join you?”
Please do.
“Sure.” I take the cape off of him and we walk up front. “I’ll be right back.” I tell him and walk to the break room to toss the towels I used, get my purse, and take a deep breath.
At the coffee shop, we’re still talking ninety miles an hour. He’s intense and I’m intrigued by that. Two of my co-workers, Kristen and Timothy walk by us, grinning. I feel my head is swimming.
“What are you doing tonight?” he asks.
I’m drowning.
“I haven’t thought beyond work yet.”
“Do you…wanna hang out?”
I do, I don’t know, I’m scared…
“Sure.” I smile.
“Ok, lemme get your number and I’ll give you mine. Text me when you get off and we can do whatever. Maybe dinner?”
“Perfect.”
“You like the Vortex?”
“Oh yeah!” I laugh.
“We’ll go there.”
“Deal!” I glance at my phone. It’s almost time for my client to be finished with color. “I have to go back.”
We walk out the door and he hugs me. “See you tonight.”
“Yup!”
I’m trying to catch my breath walking back to the salon. This is my first real date since Rob. I don’t really know how I feel about this. Although I’m really excited, the stuff in my head feels really intense right now.
“Who was that Missy?” Timothy asked when I returned.
“A client…a really cute client…we have a date.” I smile.
“He is cute! I was checkin’ him out when he walked in!” Clay piped up.
“Well good.” he smiles.
“You have a date?” Kristen walks in.
I nod, still smiling, head still swimming.
“With that boy you were just with?”
I’m still nodding.
“You liiike him.” she giggles. “You could tell by the way you were sitting.”
“That obvious huh?” I laugh.
“Just an observation.”
My co-workers know me too well…
As the day goes on, the usual “what am I going to wear, contacts or glasses, straight or curly hair?” questions bounce around in my head. I don’t know. I don’t know how to be, or what to be right now.
Work ends and suddenly I’m in a rage. I leave the salon, get stuck in traffic and find myself crying. My client is not Rob. It’s ok that he’s someone else, it’s just I’m still having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that Rob isn’t here for me to go on dates with, for me to plan outfits for, do my face and hair for. It’s all new and that’s scary. I’m curious enough to try it though… just see what happens.
I meet my client at his house. He’s on the porch when I walk up.
“Hey!” he hugs me hard.
“Hi!”
“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day!” he exclaims.
“Me too!”
He shows me his house and then we’re off to dinner. It’s so damn good! Even though I feel a little crazy, I’m at ease with him. He’s easy to talk to and I find myself laughing at his stories.
“So I’ve had this crush on you since you cut my hair last.” he confesses.
I’m laughing again and admitting my own crush on him. “I tried to get you to come back and you wouldn’t reschedule!”
“I couldn’t tell you if were trying to build your business or if you liked me.”
“Both!” I smile.
“I knew I was coming back though.” he smiles back.
Once we’re finished we head to the car trying to decide where to go from here. Everything is going to be packed and I really want to be able to hear each other and not scream. When we’re quiet for a moment he leans over and kisses me. I kiss him back, trying not to shake. Even though my eyes are closed they are flooded with tears. I don’t know what sparked them so quickly as if on command but I’m grateful it’s dark outside when we stop. He’s smiling at me and I’m smiling back but I feel so broken. God bless the man that dates me now after going through all this. My client has no idea about Rob or anything. I want to tell him but I’m saving it for later, almost trying to see how long I can go without bringing it up.
“How about the Righteous Room on Ponce?” he asks.
“I’ve never been there!”
“Let’s go then!”
Once inside the small cozy little bar, we settle into a perfect table just barely big enough for two people between a wall and a window and continue our story telling, people watching and laughing.
“Do you wanna do a shot?” he asks.
Yes.
“No, I better not. Gotta little problem with the alcohol.” I’m surprised at the words leaving my mouth.
“Yeah?”
I nod. “I just don’t really drink much anymore.”
Somehow we get on the topic of emotions and actually experiencing them after the alcohol subject.
“Feelings are meant to be felt. There’s no sense in trying to hide from them behind something.” he says.
It’s taken me years to get that! Where the hell did he come from and how does he know this? I’m not sure what to say to that, so I find myself nodding quietly, soaking up his words and saving them for later.
“I like you Melissa Nipper.” he firmly states.
“I like you too.” My face is heating up again.
“I know you’re moving, but I’d like to spend more time with you before you go.”
“That would be awesome.” It is in this moment that I’m able to see that I’m sitting across from an emotionally available person who is interested in me. He’s not a project I can carefully pick up, examine, and try to fix but simply himself and it’s a welcome breath of fresh air.
I’m noticing a change in my own behavior. I’m able to say what I want without hesitation, without wondering “what is he going to think about me?” My usual questioning in search of “deal breakers” has ceased. I am able to see and hear this person and enjoy him for exactly who he is, instead of looking for the things I find “wrong” with him, just incase he decides he might want to leave me first, and I feel the need to beat him to it.
None of that matters now. I already had this incredible relationship with someone I loved and trusted with every ounce of my being. I feel I’ll get to have that again at some point. In the meantime, while I’m not ready to go down the relationship road again, I’m learning what it feels like to really be with someone, really engage in conversation, not have any sort of expectations, and let go of any desire to control them or myself, just have an experience and enjoy it for exactly what it is.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks as I’m leaving.
“Working until six.”
“Wanna hang out?” he smiles.
“I do.”

Straightjacket...

I’ve been picking up and putting down this obscure book of short stories lately. I keep waiting for something to happen, waiting for the author to tie the characters together. I picked it up again and started reading a story about this particular character named Patrick who loses his little brother in a freak accident. In his adult life, he is still continuing his dealings with grief and referring to it as being strapped into a straightjacket. His vices “loosen” the grip of the straightjacket for a short time before it’s tightened again. I don’t remember breathing while reading. Although his experience is different from mine, I’m quite intrigued by this straightjacket reference, because yes, I feel the same way. There’s nothing I feel I can do to get away from it.
It’s Rob’s 27th birthday today. I went about my usual routine wondering what I’d be doing if he were here. I was almost tempted to pick up the phone and call him, forgetting that he’s not within reach. This creates such frustration. He was just here! Why can’t I have him? I don’t understand.
I visit Karen, my therapist and melt into tears on the way home. I am so deeply saddened I have no words to describe what all this feels like. How do I acknowledge someone’s birthday when they aren’t here?
I get ready for work after a quick run. I’m going to cut my favorite client Stuart’s hair for the last time, at least for a little while. Detaching from these wonderful people who have shared their lives with me and going to a place where I don’t know anyone and have to start over again is more painful than I’d care to admit so I brush it aside for now. I know good and well it’s gonna kick my ass later. Maybe not now, but a month into my adventure in Chicago the weight of these experiences and how much I miss my Atlanta clientele will hit hard.
I have a handful of clients that have been coming to me since my career started. These are the hardest to leave. I’ve shared the most with them and their loyalty has meant more to me than they’ll know. Stuart and his wife Kathleen are among these people. I remember when they bought their first house, all their various vehicles, Stuart’s business opening and discussing furniture he’d put in the office, and Kathleen telling me that leaving my first job is toughest, but everything is easy afterwards when I was struggling with leaving Van Michael. We’ve swapped stories about various travels, the occasional dumbass I’d end up dating for a little while, and my elated excitement when I had met someone normal, Rob. They followed me to Candler Park when I finally left my previous position, I’ve watched Kathleen’s stomach grow and deflate, producing two beautiful boys and they were among the first people to know that Rob died after my dad called.
How do I even deal with this? They’re two people among the many that I have connected with, shared intimate details of my life and listened to theirs in the forty five to sixty minutes it takes to do my job every few weeks for years. How do I handle this when I’m still dealing with the loss of Rob, the stress of moving, and trying to squeeze everything in?
Cookies. That’s how I like to deal with it. I’ve already had some today and had to stop before it got out of hand. With Stuart in my chair I don’t think about any of that. It’s when my work day ends and I get one step closer to leaving that I want to eat everything in sight.
“This is my last haircut with you!” he exclaims.
“I know!”
“What am I gonna do?”
What am I going to do? I think to myself. I shake my head instead though. “Don’t know.” I don’t like thinking about it.
“You’re in denial aren’t you?” he asks me as I’m finishing up.
“Sure am! I couldn’t even say goodbye to Kathleen!” I had cut her hair right after my birthday. I turn on my dryer and dry his hair, neither of us saying anything. My mind races back through all the times I cut his hair at Van Michael. It was every three weeks at 7:15. I now barely recognize that person, usually dressed in all black, racing back to her station to take care of her last client after a long day of constant motion. Everything is so different now.
Time is still passing whether I like it or not. I finish his hair. He didn’t reschedule his next appointment but we didn’t say goodbye either.
“We’ll see you before you go.” he tells me.
“Yup!”
I have a few minutes before Nancy, my next one who is getting her color rinsed out. I sit in the break room and try to figure out what I’m feeling.
“Melissa, she’s in your chair.” Shali pops her head into the break room. No thinking for me!
“Hi!” I beam at her.
“Hey there! How are you?”
“Good. How are you? I’ve missed you!”
“I’m good.”
I see Nancy every four weeks and she likes the same haircut each time. She was in the salon when I cut Rob’s hair for the last time. She watched us walk up front and saw him turn to face me and tap his cheek wanting a kiss. I kissed him, turned eight shades of red and couldn’t stop smiling as he walked out and I went back to my station to finish the rest of my day.
When I told her about his accident shortly after returning to work she said that her husband died nearly ten years ago. She explained her grieving process to me and gave me her number incase I needed to talk. It’s so easy to tell her what’s in my head. It all comes pouring out before she can even ask. I don’t know why I’m not always like this with other people. Maybe I don’t trust myself around people who haven’t lost a spouse. I’m scared of any reaction they may have, good or bad. I’ve noticed the ones that have experienced this particular loss completely understand my weirdness. They get it when I say I want everyone and no one. They understand my incessant need for affection and my wanting to fill my huge void with things that aren’t so good for me. It requires little explanation because they know but because they don’t ask a trillion questions, they just listen it’s easiest to open up.
“It’s Rob’s birthday.” I blurt out to her.
“Oh honey. Wow. He’s twenty seven?”
“Yes.” I nod. “It’s weird. My birthday was the eighth and I had this wonderful day, it’s just that he wasn’t here and it was sad wondering what we’d be doing.”
“I know. I completely understand. Birthdays are hard. We’re still here going on without them.”
I nod. “What’s it like with your husband being gone ten years?’
“Hmm. Well. I don’t get sad anymore. I do think about him and I do feel his presence every so often.’ she smiles.
“I’m so jealous of that! I’d love to feel Rob! I believe he’s right here I just don’t actually feel anything.”
We talk about Chicago and what’s happening with that a little while later.
“You don’t seem stressed.” she says when I tell her I’m freaked out.
“I know.” I laugh. “No one really sees it. Especially at work. I can talk all day and not think much about it. It’s when I’m home either at night or even in the morning that it hits and I cry a lot. I do the same when I’m caught up in thoughts about Rob. I’m not really able to cry in front of most people for some reason.”
She nods. “You’re going to be just fine up there.”
“I think so too.” I smile.
I leave the salon a little while later. I don’t want to be home, I don’t want to be with people but on the other hand company wouldn’t be horrible. Hmm. I decide to get sushi at Rob’s favorite place. After ordering I settle into my journal writing about today and trying to make some sense out of it. It’s weird not to look up and see Rob across from me, his hands reaching for mine. I’ve never felt more alone but at the same time, I’m ok in my little bubble of thoughts and words splashing across the pages in front of me.
Dinner is good. I leave and stop by San Francisco coffee for cake. I sit there writing for another couple of hours remembering being here when dad called to tell me about Rob. I still don’t want to go home. Kat and Gordon are out of town and the emptiness in the house isn’t doing much for me at the moment.
The coffee shop is shutting down. There is no way I’m going to be able to sleep. I’ll just keep writing until my fingers won’t move anymore…

Six Months...

It’s Monday, October 20th and Rob has been gone six months. The days following his funeral were spent wondering what my life was going to be like now without him and what I was going to do about it. I wondered how I’d feel in a month, in three months, six months and so on.
I expected some things to happen and others have come completely out of left field. Some good, some not so good but learning experiences nonetheless. I’m not entirely sure how to put this, or explain it but when he was here, Rob unwrapped this part of me that I kept hidden from the world. I was too afraid to be open, to share things, to even feel things. I somehow felt I wasn’t entitled to those things. I became a master at adapting to whatever situation or personality I was around at the time. I spent so much time trying to “control” myself that I managed to develop an eating disorder not realizing that it’s ok to let go and lighten up. He brought me out of my head and helped me to see that it was ok to simply be myself, that people aren’t as judgmental as I seem to have believed. He helped me relax when I was losing my mind over things, always pulling me into a warm hug, or taking my hand and saying “I’m here for you. It’s ok. Everything is ok.”
Somehow in his death, I believed this more fiercely than I did when he was here. When he died, it was the outpouring of unexpected love from the people still here that flooded in and filled me up in a such a way I’ll never be able to repay that has held me upright and kept me going. That and I don’t want to disappoint him. Even with him not here, I want to live my life in honor of him, taking better care of myself, and giving all the love I can to the people in my life.
It was Sunday, the 19th that was much harder than today. I guess it’s because he died on a Sunday that looked like this one, with bright blue skies and sunshine. I didn’t want to be at work. The day and just being in the salon reminded me so much of that day. I hid in the office in between clients. The door opened an hour after I’d been there and it made me jump. I had been staring at the computer screen.
“Hey.” my co-worker’s gingerly walks in and sits down in front of me.
“Hi.” I smile.
“How are you?”
I shrugged. “Ok, I guess. Rob’s been gone six months now and I’m having a hard time today.”
“Are you serious? Six months. Wow.”
I nod.
“Are you still up for hanging out tonight?” he asks.
“I am.”
“Good. We’re gonna have a good time, ok?”
“We will!” I laugh.
He gets up to get back to his client and I go back to my thoughts. I don’t even know if I can fake a good time tonight.
My work day ends before his and I go for a run. It feels good to move and listen to music. Once I’m showered and dressed I feel better and ready to spend time with him. When he comes over we walk up to the restaurant and sit outside. We’re the only people on the patio and a cool breeze is floating by. We immediately delve into our usual heavy discussions, debating back and forth over sushi about various experiences and views we have about anything and everything. The subject turns to Rob and he asks how I’m feeling.
“Ok.” I nod. “I definitely feel better than I did this morning.”
“Good. What do you think he’s doing right now?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” I smile. “Maybe sitting with us.”
He smiles and says “You know he’s going to always be in your heart. No matter what. No one can take that away from you. He’s always going to be there.”
I nod, willing myself not to cry.
“Do you know how strong you are? I don’t know what I’d do if I were in your situation.”
“Everyone says that and I don’t see it that way. You don’t know how you’ll react when something like this happens.”
Sometimes I feel strong other times I don’t, but what does that mean anyway? I don’t see it as being strong or weak but more like life or death. I could have let myself float away into oblivion, drowning in vices, not caring about anything anymore or I could live. Really live. Really open up, experience things, and feel things. I know I’d disappoint Rob if I wasn’t true to myself, following my gut and taking everything one step at a time.
“I hope that if I ever have a daughter, she’s just like you. You’re amazing.” my co-worker’s words have taken my breath away. He doesn’t know what that statement means to me. He doesn’t know I’ve spent a good portion of myself feeling wrong, bad, and incompetent. He has no idea how hard I’m working to reverse those feelings and his words remind me to keep going. I can now see that to earn the respect I want, I have to be honest, make my own way, live my own life, be an individual and damn proud of it. Everything else will follow.
I do wish Rob were here for me to thank him in person for the gifts he gave me without even realizing it. Until I see him again, I will continue to do the best I can with what he gave me and live the best life I can live.

Raw...

I had too much caffeine this morning. I raced around the salon like a maniac trying to hurry up and finish whatever it was I was working on just to sit still for a moment. Once I had the moment to sit still I wanted hair to play in.
I barely spoke to my co-workers today, didn’t take my lunch, and kept on working. While the blades of my shears flying through my client’s wet hair I wonder just what it is I’m rushing for. I can’t speed the time up, can’t make it stay still so what is it?
I guess I’m wanting a distraction from my meandering thoughts. Usually talking to my clients pulls me out but not today. Everyone wants to talk about Chicago, wanting to know why I’m leaving, where I’m going and what I’ll be doing, living, etc… Explaining the exact same thing over and over again is wearing on me. I don’t have a lot of answers to everyone’s questions just yet and some of it, I’m not willing to share. Chicago is for me. I’m going to meet the person I’ll become once I get there. I’m not running from anything, not hiding from anything. It’ll be a place to exist in where for a while, no one will know my name or my story. I can share it if I want but it won’t feel like it’s posted on my forehead like it does now. I’m hoping to be able to make more sense of things once I leave. Until then…
I still feel completely exposed and raw. I can’t sit still and when I do, I’m unable to quiet my head. It keeps me from writing, from concentrating, from packing, from doing anything productive. Instead I focus on what I want, or what I think I want. It’s a temporary fix. Just a little instant gratification.
I see myself wanting your attention, climbing over myself to try and reach it. It will do nothing for me in the end, but right now, in this moment, I want to consume you. You’ll have none of me which amplifies my wanting. I’m embarrassed at myself for wanting anything. Embarrassed to see myself vying with outside circumstances for your time, because time spent with you is time not spent wanting to eat or drink, or anything else. Nothing else is present but the current moment and when you go, everything all comes rushing back again.
Work ends and I go for a run. All the way to downtown and back my feet carry me, my mind trying to work itself out. When I get home, I start the shower and go back to my room and get undressed. I look down at my bare feet. There is a mark on the hardwood floor of my bedroom under my right foot. A memory of me and Rob laughing one night sucker-punches me in the stomach. I want to vomit. Instead I walk into the shower, and under the hot spray of water and dissolve into tears feeling completely depleted and empty. Still though, I am unable to fully communicate what’s in my head at the moment. I want to be kissed, touched, loved and lost completely in an endless release. I desperately want to open my eyes and see Rob in front of me, as if this was all a really really bad dream. I want him to wrap me up in his arms, smile and kiss me and ask me what I’m crying for because he’s right here and everything is ok.
When I do open my eyes, it’s the water that’s in front of me and I’m still alone. I finish up, turn the water off, dry off and pull on one of Rob’s shirts. I dry my hair, looking at his shirt that hangs off of one of my shoulders while I’m maneuvering the dryer, wishing it wasn’t on me, but on him. I feel I shouldn’t waste time wishing for impossible things but I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around the fact that he was once here and now he’s not.

Pieces...

I’ve had a little sugar bug following me around lately, patiently waiting to be eaten. He taunts me from time to time, nipping at my skin sending little rushes of pleasure right through me and intoxicating my thoughts. It’s like a blanket is being laid down over my grief, suppressing it more and more with every little bite the bug takes out of me. I’ve seen the sugar bugs before and more often than not, I do eventually give in and eat them. This one looks especially delicious which is a warning that it’s going to hurt especially when I bite him back.
My irrational, addict self says she’s hungry and wants the bug. My sane, rational half reminds me that every time I eat a sugar bug I feel worse after it’s digested and there is no bug left to follow me around, distracting me from life. What’s left is an uncomfortable, full, hurt belly and the life I didn’t want to deal with staring me in the face saying “I told you not to eat the bug.“ The irrational side though, knows another one will come around again and she’ll wait quietly for that while the rational side cleans up the mess from the previous consumption.
The bug bites me hard one last time before I turn around and snatch him up. Instead of squashing his ass, I pop him into my mouth. The irrational side of my head cheers, happy to have what she wanted and delighting in the delicious flavor of the bug. The rational side is drowning and can’t be heard over the flood of sugar and delirium that is pulsing through my body.
Once the bug is swallowed, it’s sharp contents scrape at my esophagus like shards of glass and the irrational side disappears, knowing what’s going to happen next. The bug will digest and there will be no more sugar for the rational side to drown in she’ll be cleaning the mess in my mind all on her own. The irrational side wants nothing to do with cleaning and everything to do with mess making. She retreats to her cozy chair in the living room of my brain and takes a nap.
Meanwhile, with no bug left buzzing around my head keeping me looking up and not straight ahead, the grief that I’ve managed to ignore sucker punches me hard in the stomach. Over and over it hits hard, stripping me of skin, angry at me for eating the bug, thinking I could forget it’s presence.
Once again, I feel raw, wide open and bare. My limbs are filled with lead, and the tears come in uncontrollable waves. Memories float in and out of my head and it’s almost as if I can touch Rob, feel his skin, his hair and hear his voice. How stupid of me to think that that an extra special delicious sugar bug could replace that, or even mask that feeling.
I’m now left standing here asking “now what?” Where do I go from here? I don’t know. I’m afraid of the next little bug that will come along. It’s inevitable. They always come and provide the most wonderful distraction until I give in and eat them and I’m back to where I started, but a little stronger than I was before. My mind is repairing itself faster after each consumption and I’m able to move forward longer and faster in between bugs.
Until then, it’s me, my grief and my rational side cleaning up the mess and taking everything one step at a time…

Birthday!!!

My eyes opened this morning and immediately a smile spread across my face. It’s my birthday!!! I hop out of bed and go through my usual routine of breakfast and coffee at Inman Perk. My friend Tom appears out of no where while I was writing and staring out the window. He sits to chat before heading out to work.
“Where have you been?” he exclaims.
“Where have you been?!” I laugh. “I’ve been right here.”
“You have not, I haven’t seen you in a week!”
“Ah, you’re right, I’ve been going to San Fran coffee this week.” I smile.
We talk about my birthday, Sweden, Chicago, his work and travels before he has to go.
“I’ll call you when I get back in town.” he smiles before leaving.
“Deal!”
“Have a great birthday! Don’t get into too much trouble.”
“Trouble? Me? Never!” I laugh and hug him.
I get back to staring out the window, watching the rain fall. It hasn’t rained in a while. It’s not going to rain again this week and I wonder what this means. Why is it raining on my birthday?
I’m trying to identify my feelings. It’s the most bittersweet birthday I’ve ever had. I took the day off, I get to see my friends and co-workers tonight, I can’t wait to see Marian for a massage this afternoon, but nothing is fixing what’s in my head. I am aging and Rob will always be twenty six. While I’m always happy on my birthday I do allow some time for listening to Rob’s favorite song and tears.
I get my nails done, stop at a cute shop that sells cupcakes and get one before heading off to see Marian.
“Happy Birthday!” she squeals from her porch as I get out of my car.
“Thank you!” I walk up to her and hug her.
“How are you feeling?”
I shrugged. “Good, I just miss Rob extra today, if that’s even possible.”
“I understand.” she nods. “Come on back.”
I exhale once I’m on the table and she starts working. I’m there for ninety glorious minutes. Sixty of which we talk through. She tells me of her mother in-law’s amazing positive attitude and how Marian aspires to be like her. I aspire to be like Marian. Her bright sweetness is inspiring.
“You’re going to do great in Chicago, I know it!” she exclaims once she’s done and I’m dressed.
“I feel that way.” I smile. “I can’t explain it, but I feel like everything will be ok.”
“Absolutely! Enjoy the rest of your day, and I’ll see you soon!”
I leave feeling like a million dollars and drive to the salon. My co-worker and I are going shopping.
“Happy Birthday!” Matthew exclaims when I walk in.
“Thank you!” I hug him hard.
More hugs follow by assistants passing by. My co-worker finishes sweeping up his station and wraps me up in a huge hug.
“Happy Birthday.” he smiles.
“Thank you.” My perma-grin isn’t going anywhere.
“How’s your day so far?”
“Fabulous! I saw Marian a few minutes ago.”
“Nice! Are you ready?”
I nod, and we head out and over to Little Five Points. I want yet another pair of jeans I saw a while back. I’m giddy and full of energy racing around the store talking to the sales people and trying things on. I find a pair of jeans I like in no time, and we’re off again.
“It’s so gross outside.” he says once we’re in the car.
“I know!”
“What do you want to do now?” he starts the ignition.
“Hmm. I’d like to sit outside somewhere or go to the park but the sky is going to open up again at any moment.”
“Yeah… I was thinking the same thing.”
“Let’s just go back to my house for a little bit.”
“OK.”
A little bit turns into hours. We talk and talk and talk until we decide to go out back to my screened in porch and talk some more. The sun peeks out a little and I’m staring at the tops of the trees.
“What’s going through your mind?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Um… I’ve had a great day. Seriously, and I can’t wait to see everyone tonight, it’s just I really really miss Rob. I’m twenty seven today and he’ll always be twenty six.”
“I never looked at it that way before.”
“It’s weird. I used to think about our birthdays after we started our relationship and what they would be like and what we’d do. His is two weeks after mine. I never imagined this.”
We’re quiet until we remember the time. We’re meeting a few people early and I haven’t gotten ready yet.
“Oops.” I look at the clock. I have thirty minutes to look human. I usually like an hour. “I’ll be fast!” I exclaim, taking off.
I quickly shower, get dressed, do my face and hair and we’re off.
“You alright?” I ask him while he’s driving. We’re going to Apres Diem. My favorite restaurant.
He nods. “You?”
“Yup.”
We’re both nervous in social situations. I can’t wait to see everyone but I worry too much about people having a good time and everything.
“Way to be on time guys!” Maryann smiles at us from the table she and Timothy are sitting at. Her sarcasm is quite evident.
“We’re on hairdresser time!” I laughed, leaning down to hug her. We are a bit late. I walk over and hug Timothy while my co-worker sits next to Maryann. Pretty soon everyone starts to arrive. Our server moves us inside to our reserved tables in the lounge. I am ecstatic to see everyone, bouncing from chair to chair chatting away. Any sort of anxiety that was once present is now gone and for a moment, I forget my grief.
Dinner is delicious. People come and go and eventually there are a few of us left talking about what the plan is going to be next. Everyone is looking at me.
“MJQ?” I grin.
“Let’s go!” Matthew pipes up.
We all get up and walk out to the parking lot agreeing to just meet over there.
“Are you having a good night?” my co-worker asks as he parks on the street next to the club.
“I am.” I smile. “You?”
“Oh yeah. It’s good to be out.”
We get out of the car. I put my purse in his trunk and we meet up with everyone and head in.
It’s chilly inside and the dance floor is quiet. We’re all sitting against the wall, talking and looking curiously at the huge black man asleep on the bench across from us. (never a dull moment.) Eventually things get moving and I’m up and on the dance floor. Misti goes with me along with a friend of hers. We dance and dance until the music gets weird and we meet the boys back against the wall and talk until something good starts playing again and we’re back on the floor. This continues most of the night. I danced with Misti, alone and at some point was getting spun around by a short Mexican that I presumed to be gay. When that got weird I was off to find the boys again.
“How are you?” I plop down next to my co-worker.
“Good.” he nods.
“Dance with me!” I exclaim.
“Nope.” he shook his head. He doesn’t dance. Ever. Doesn’t stop me from trying.
“Do it! Don’t make me pull the birthday card!” I laugh, knowing this is hopeless.
“No! You can’t pull the birthday card!”
“I can! It’s my birthday! Come on!”
“Maybe. If a good song comes on.” he replies. I know this is a no and I go back out.
Later, Misti is sucked into a one-sided conversation with a guy that looks maybe eighteen. He wants to take her fishing. We’re back at the spot we originally parked ourselves against the wall. I don’t know where my co-worker is and it’s probably getting late. Just a little more dancing…
I don’t remember the song that was playing when I went back out to dance. I don’t remember seeing Misti, but knew she wasn’t far away. A rush of uncomfortable, inescapable feelings flooded my head. It all hit so hard and so fast that I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to wish them away. I suddenly found myself wanting to run until my legs fell off, drink until my liver corroded, and eat until my stomach exploded. My rational side quickly came to the rescue and reminded me what I was doing and to stop entertaining such ideas. I found myself walking back to find my co-worker. Misti wasn’t far behind me.
“Are you ready?” he asks once I sit next to him.
I nod.
We all get up and head out, quickly saying goodbye and heading to our cars. He starts the ignition and presses the gas. I find myself staring at the dashboard but not really seeing it.
“What’s going through your mind?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I need to cry. I can’t and it’s uncomfortable.”
“Are you ok? Did you not have a good time?”
“Oh I did!” I perk up. “I did. I don’t know what this is. I’m overwhelmed.”
He pulls into my driveway, turns off the car and looks at me. I don’t want him to go. I don’t want to be alone. “Just say it.” I tell myself. “Just tell him. Ask him to stay.” I don’t though. He’s got his own thing going on right now and I don’t want to cross any boundaries.
“Give me a hug.” he says and reaches for me. I squeeze him hard.
“I need to get my purse out of your trunk.” I remind him.
“Oh yeah.” We both open our doors and walk to the back of the car.
“There you are.” he hands it to me.
“Thanks.” I nod.
“I’ll see you Friday.” he says, hugging me again and kissing my cheek.
“Deal.” I smile.
I hear him get into the car and start the ignition again as I walk through my front door. Kat and Gordon had set presents on my couch. I open a box from them and pull out soft gray gloves that are perfect for Chicago. They are a pair I had wanted but never said anything about. It’s then that the tears come. I’m leaving and it’s not something I want to think about at the moment. I look at the time. It’s after two in the morning. It’s October ninth. The sparkliness of my birthday is gone, and I’ll be back to work tomorrow. I finish unwrapping the rest of the box, smiling at the hat, scarf and book that are tucked away inside.
Next I pick up a card made by Jhoni. Her words are so unbelievably kind that I dissolve yet again. She made me a pair of earrings, making me smile through the messiness of my tears. I slowly, carefully, unwrap everything else smiling though the still endless tears, then walk to the bathroom where I start a hot shower. I smell like bar and don’t want to take that to bed with me.
Once I’m in bed and thinking I’m sane enough to fall asleep, I’m crying again. I feel completely alone at the moment and nuts for thinking that being I just spent the whole night with fabulous people. I desperately want my co-worker next to me. I don’t really want to talk because I can’t find the words but just knowing someone was there would be most comforting. Needless to say sleep doesn’t come easily…

Notice...

“I’ve been here forty eight hours and I’ve already had a near death experience driving to work!” I snap when I walk into the break room. Our day is just beginning and half of our staff is back there.
“What happened?” Monique asked.
“Idiots speeding and runnin’ damn stop signs.” I toss my bag on the chair next to me and sink my hand into her hair, wanting to sink my teeth into a muffin.
“You and those stop signs!” she laughs.
“I know! They’re everywhere and people don’t know the proper way to stop at one!”
“Hey, do you remember my client with the super long hair? She’s the really pretty one and is so nice?” Monique turned to face me.
“I do!”
“She and her husband were in a car accident a few weeks ago.”
“What?! What happened?”
“They were on I-20 one afternoon and a drunk driver hit them from behind. They were in her husband’s pick up truck and it flipped them 3 times! They had their dogs with them. I think they lost two and one ran all the way home.”
“What?” That was all I could manage to say.
“Yeah, she sat there with her husband with his head in her lap, waiting for the paramedics. The whole back of his head is all, well, you know…”
“They both lived though right?” I swallow.
“Yes. The doctors said there is no way either of them should be alive right now and if they were alive, they should both be vegetables. She said it‘s changed her whole life.”
I start chewing on the inside of my face. I will. Not. Lose. It. I do manage to say, “How is it that something like that happens to them and they live, and something nearly unexplainable happens to that Jeep Rob was in and he’s gone?” I try my hardest to keep the tears from falling, afraid that once they start, they won’t stop.
She shook her head. I couldn’t stop running my fingers through her hair and couldn’t speak. When I could it was to say I needed to set up my station.
Today was full of needy people and their constant requests of “Melissa, can you get this one piece? This one piece is driving me crazy, can you do something about it?” I heard it so much I was starting to get a little paranoid in my ability to do my job. I watched the clock all morning in between cutting off or taming people’s “pieces”. “I love my job, I love my job”, I repeated over and over to myself. It’s not my client’s fault that I’d rather be in Sweden still…
Chicago is one hour behind Atlanta and I’ve been waiting for Art and Science’s phones to come on. When I’m able to, I call and leave a message for Cindy to call me back. When she does, I’m about to start a client but I race off to take her call.
“Hey! This is Cindy! How are you?” her bright voice echoes through the phone.
“Good! How are you?” My heart is pounding.
“Good. I got your message. What’s up?”
“I want to move to Chicago in November and wanted to know if you guys need another assistant.” I grin.
“Oh wow! Yes! We wanted to hire you in the summer, of course. Let’s see… can you start on November 19th?”
“Perfect!”
“Good. Be at Evanston at 8:30 with your driver’s license and we’ll go from there.”
“Thank you.” I’m about to explode into a million pieces…
“So, how have you been since everything? Is it better?” she asks.
“Um, I wouldn’t say better, just different.”
“What have you been doing in Atlanta?”
“I’ve just been working and writing. A lot.”
“Good. I know it’s tough. I do look forward to seeing you in November.”
“Thank you so much Cindy.”
We get off the phone and I exhale. When I walk into the break room to put my phone down, Kristen is standing in the middle of the room with her work tickets.
I have to tell someone before I explode.
“Kristen? I have something to tell you!” I put my phone down.
“What is it?”
“I just called Chicago. I start work on November nineteenth!” I squeal.
“You’re leaving me?” her blue eyes widened.
“Not for long! I’ll be back to thaw my limbs and heal the frostbite!”
“But you’re leaving!”
“I know. I’m sad, but I gotta do it. I wanted to forever ago and you know, plans changed.”
“I know honey.”
In no time I’m back out to get my client. I’m filled with nervous energy. Once I finish her I’m off to find Monique.
“I have something to tell you!” I exclaim in the hallway.
“What’s that?” she smiles.
“I’m moving to Chicago.” I tone my voice down.
“You are?” her face fell. “When?”
“November.”
“That’s so soon! I mean, I know you’ve wanted to go and I’m happy for you, it’s just not what I expected to hear you say.”
“I know. It’s crazy. I decided to go while I was in Sweden.”
“When’s your last day?”
“No idea. I haven’t told Jennifer yet.” I reply. (Jennifer is our general manager)
“Ok, just let us know.”
I nod and go back to work.
My day is almost over when my co-worker and I are in the break room. I put my hand on his head.
“Got something to tell you.”
He turns to face me.
“I’m moving to Chicago in November.” I can’t stop the smile on my face even though I don’t like having these conversations.
“What?!” His eyes get big. “When?!”
“November.”
“Wow. You have a job?”
I nod. “I was supposed to move in September.”
“When’s your last day?” he asks.
“No idea.”
My day eventually ends. A huge weight has lifted off my chest but another has been added. I’m about leave everything I’ve ever known… In six weeks.

Home...

“Ladies and Gentlemen we are beginning our initial approach into Atlanta. Please return your tray tables and pull your seatbacks to their upright and locked position. We’ll be landing shortly.” the flight attendant’s voice came over the loudspeaker. I continued to read. I was ready to land an hour ago.
My tears had stopped and now an annoying irritation has come over me. We’ve been on the plane for almost ten hours and there is still Customs to go through. I bought Kat some Captain Morgan and I’m trying to think about how I’m going to get around security. For whatever reason after stepping off the plane (when we’ve already been through extensive security in Sweden) we have to go through it again in Atlanta. The only place I’ve been in the last twelve hours is an airport and a plane.
I feel the plane beginning to drop and close my book and stare out the window. Almost home. Kind of. The plane touches the ground and moves to the gate in Concourse E. Once the doors open I’m outta there. I turn my phone on and text Olov, “Landed!” It’s almost midnight there now, making it almost 6pm in Atlanta. I’ve received a plethora of voicemails and text messages making me smile. I text everyone as quickly as possible before approaching Customs where I had to turn the phone off. I hand the pretty black woman behind the counter my passport, managing a smile.
“Welcome home Miss Nipper.” she smiles, stamps my passport and hands it back.
“Thank you.” I take it and keep moving. I now have to “check” my bag with Kat’s alcohol in it. I do that, and go through security again. I feel like I won’t be able to stand up straight for too much longer. My eyes are so heavy. For whatever reason I don’t change my Swedish money for US money as I head to baggage claim to get my bag again. I remembered I had a five dollar bill in my bag and thought that would get me through MARTA. Kat said she’d pick me up at the Lindberg station. As I’m waiting for the bag I pick up my phone and scroll through the list of contacts until I’ve found what I’m looking for and dial. After a few rings a woman’s voice picks up.
“Thank you for calling Art and Science salon located in Evanston Illinois. We are currently closed. Our business hours are…”
I hung up. Dammit. Try again tomorrow. I’m going to Chicago! EEK! I’m still too tired to talk, but I wanted this done before I change my mind again.
My bag appears. I snatch it up and head to MARTA. Folks, they’re charging a five dollar “handling fee” now at MARTA. (probably airport only) That is making the grand total come to $6.75. Dammit. I push my five dollar bill back into my bag. I find my debit card and try that. It won’t read it. My blood is boiling when I call Kat.
“Kat!” I snap when she picks up.
“What’s up?”
“This damn thing won’t take my card and I don’t have the cash to get on MARTA being it costs SIX SEVENTY FIVE to get on now!”
“Ok, don’t worry. I’m at the house. I’m going to change clothes and I’ll be down to pick you up. Meet me at the lower level.”
“Kay. I’m sorry. Thank you.”
“No problem!”
We hang up and I wonder if Atlanta is still in a gas crisis. Sure enough when she comes to get me she says there’s no gas around home.
“It’s worse now than when you left.” she tells me.
“Glorious.” I roll my eyes. I left the land of clean air and public transportation for the land of smog, cars and no gas to put in the cars…
“Sooo…” Kat smiled. “How was it?!”
“EEEKKKK!” I squeal, hands clapping. I’d give a standing ovation if I weren’t in the car. “The MOST AMAZING trip ever!”
“Tell me everything!”
It took me the entire ride home to tell her about the week. It was hard forming sentences and I was afraid I was forgetting things but I managed to get it all out.
“Sorry.” I said, my head falling back on the headrest. “I’m so tired. I don’t think I slept a full, straight, eight hours the whole time I was there.”
“Oh, you’re gonna sleep good tonight!” she laughed. “Try to stay awake a little once we get home though.”
“I know. I want sushi.” I laugh.
Once we’re home, I call our favorite sushi place and order. Kat doesn’t want any and before she’s about the retreat to her side of the house, I say “Kat?” She turned around and looked at me. “While I was out there I decided to go ahead and move to Chicago in November.”
“Really?!” It was her turn to clap. I have no idea where we got this from, this clapping thing. It’s most funny when we both end up clapping at the same time. “When we going?”
“I have to call the salon again. They were closed when I got off the plane. I’d like to start work the first week. If they’ll have me…”
“You just let me know!” she smiled.
Later, belly full of sushi, I collapse into bed dying to see my co-workers tomorrow, but not really ready to cut hair.
The next morning I roll out of bed and go to Inman Perk. I missed it but not enough to be entirely excited to be walking through this door instead of Creem. I sit in my usual place with my usual cup of coffee and send email for a little while until it’s time to get ready for work.
I’m beaming when I walk through the doors of the salon, so happy to see the girls at the front desk.
“You’re back! How was it? What did you do? Do you have pictures? The questions and hugs come fast.
“It was amazing!” I laugh. “I didn’t want to leave!”
“You look amazing!” Shali exclaims. “Like you got some rest.”
“Something like that.” I laughed. “I still need to catch up on sleep.”
I took my work tickets and head to my station. My co-worker is blowing out his client. He smiles and turns off his dryer.
“Hi!” I bound over to him.
“How was it?” he hugged me hard.
“Amazing.” I can’t stop smiling.
“You look incredible.”
“Thanks” I still feel a little glazed but I’m glad no one sees this.
“You have to tell me everything.” he says, turning the dryer back on.
“Absolutely.” I laugh and walk to my station.
I look to see who my first client is. It’s Lauren. I love her. I do. She’s got amazing hair but she’s more indecisive than I am. I’m not in the mood for mind reading today. When she comes in and sits in my chair, I try hard to focus and to care.
“So I want to grow it out but I also want these layers out completely.” she tells me.
I’ve told her many times that eliminating her layers is a bad idea and yet she insists on it.
“Sure.” I nod, not in the mood for convincing. “Do you want to see an inch or two coming off then?”
“I was thinking about bringing it up to my chin.”
Um…
“Really?” That would be almost five inches off.
“Would that be ok?” she asks.
“Of course but it’s going to look heavy with out the layers.”
“Whatever. I just want them out.”
I get her shampooed and start cutting. Obviously her neck will show when her hair is chin length. When my blade is done severing that first section, she freaks.
“Oh, that is short. I’ve never had it that short before.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Ok. I’ve only cut one section. I can leave the rest of your hair longer if you feel this will be too short. It’s just that now, you’re going to have this short section underneath.”
“Whatever. Just cut it. It’ll be fine.” she tells me.
I keep cutting, feeling the skin on my chest heat up. I remind myself that she told me to cut it. Why am I here right now and not in Sweden? I said I wasn’t ready to come back…
I finish and I think she likes it. No idea.
In between clients I’m back and forth to various co-workers explaining various parts of my trip. I could hang out with them all day.
“How was the food? So your host was nice? Did you see this or that? What’s was the weather like? How was the language barrier?” The questions were nonstop but I was happy to explain everything.
This weird sort of depression sets in a little as the day goes on though. It’s like I’m grieving the loss of this trip. It’s back to reality and I’m already missing the delicious anonymity of being somewhere else entirely. After talking to some of my clients, I see I’m not alone in my feelings and I’m relieved.
“Oh yeah girl, I cried all the way back from Italy” one client said.
“My husband and I tried to find ways to move to France.” another client laughed.
“I didn’t want to come home…ever.” a co-worker explained about her two months spent abroad.
My tears had stopped on the plane but my brain is still processing everything and it’s too hard to work and process at the same time. I think about calling Chicago again but then decide to give it one more day. Just incase…

The End...

I can’t believe it’s Sunday already. I have to go home tomorrow. While at Creem I feel overwhelmingly anxious and sad. I don’t want to leave but have to and feel rushed again to squeeze in any last minute activity in. I spend more time staring out the window than writing. I know I’m going to be mad at myself when I get home for not keeping my journal entirely up to date.
I wandered to various shops early in the afternoon, trying on the occasional sweater or dress, then headed to the underground café in Gamla Stan one last time.
While there I sipped a latte, alternating between writing and reading. I was able to quiet my mind for a little bit and focus on what I was doing. It was when I left that the anxiety flared up again. I entertain thoughts of eating and push them away.
Later after being at Olov’s for a while I decide to go for a walk. As I’m leaving, he’s walking up the stairs to his place.
“Where you off to?” he asks after hugging me hello.
“Going for a walk.”
“Can I come?”
“Sure.” I smile.
He puts his things down inside and we’re off. The sun has completely gone down and he’s hungry. Surprisingly, I’m not. We stop at a small Middle Eastern place and he tells me about his day at work.
“What do you want to do now, with your last night here in Stockholm?” he asks once he’s done with dinner.
“I’m not sure really. Let’s just keep walking.”
We walk back towards his place but take a detour into a park. After walking up a huge hill we’re overlooking the city with all it’s sparkly lights. The sky is a deep violet color and the moon is orange. I wish I had my camera. We sit on a bench and talk about all sorts of things from past jobs to past relationships and everything in between. I tell him about my plans once I return home. We decide to keep in touch through all that.
“We should probably head back.” he says, standing.
“Ok.”
On the way back we don’t say much. Once inside he’s turned the TV on. I can’t sit still. Maybe I’ll try to go back to the chocolate café one more time. When I tell him this he perks up.
“How do you still have any energy to do anything?”
“I have no idea but it’s my last night here and I want to be out.” I reply. “You’re welcome to come with me.”
“You’re going to write though.” he says.
“Not if you’re with me, but if you’re not coming then yes, I’m going to write.”
“I don’t know. I’m tired.”
I put my scarf and jacket on, then pick up my bag. “Ok.” I’m about to walk to the door when it seems like he’s contemplating joining me.
“Alright I’ll come with you.” he gets up and we both put our shoes on. Neither of us say anything as we walk out the door. I feel my skin heating up once we’re outside and he’s several steps ahead of me.
“You don’t have to come with me.” I blurt out.
“I’m choosing to do so.” he stops to look at me.
“Ok. I’m just saying that you don’t have to.”
“I know and I want to.”
We keep going to the train and to Gamla Stan where when we find the place it’s closing. Dammit.
“I’m getting hungry.” I say, looking around.
“Hmm. I know of a place that stays open until three I think.”
“Deal.”
We take the train back and get off at another stop. The café is fabulous and packed. There is a lot of Swedish exchange going on between Olov and the guy behind the counter then they both stop to look at me. I assume it’s time for my little English speaking self to order. I do so and we walk upstairs to sit. “It’s so beautiful up here.” I think to myself surveying around at all the plush red couches and tables that are scattered around the loft-like place. Huge windows line some of the walls and I wish we had places like this back home.
Olov and I sink into one of the couches. The table suddenly seems very high. We talk and talk. The food comes and it’s awesome. I’m full and content, not wanting to move. I have no idea what time it is but the place is still buzzing with people everywhere. We decide to head back.
Again, I’m in bed, but having a hard time falling asleep. Reality will start again sometime tomorrow. I just need one more day…

Five Months...

This whole time I’ve been gone, I haven’t paid attention to the date or taken the time to think about what day it is, but today, upon waking up, I somehow knew it was Saturday, September 20th. Rob has been gone five months today. The twentieth of every month will always resound in my head no matter what. I’ll always hear my dad’s voice as if he were telling me about Rob’s accident all over again more so on the twentieth of the month than any other day.
I woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. I roll out of bed.
“Hi.” I answer, not thinking that it could be someone other than Olov on the line.
“Hey. I’ve got some bad news.” It’s Olov.
“What’s that?” I ask, already knowing he’s stuck at work.
“I’m still at work. The girl that was coming in to relieve me, didn’t come in and we can’t get a hold of her, so we’ve called someone else, and I have to wait for him to get here. It’s going to take an hour and a half for him to get here.”
“Good. Lord.” I reply.
“I’m not going to be able to sleep at all by the time I get home.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So I guess I’ll see you as soon as I can.”
“Ok. I might be at Creem.” I reply. He’s fine with that. We hang up and I get dressed, thinking about Rob, trying to identify my feelings. I’m ok. Just ok.
When I get down the street I see that I have another half hour before Creem opens. I go for a walk.
The sun hasn’t really come out yet. Thick, light gray clouds cover the sky. I stop every so often to peek into various stores before heading back to get caffinated.
Benny isn’t working today. A woman with olive skin and big brown eyes makes a latte for me and I sit in the window again to write. I’m not there long before Olov appears in the doorway.
“Hey!” I stand up and hug him. He sits with me. “Latte?” I offer.
“No thanks.” he smiled.
“So you made it huh?”
“Yes, finally but we still don’t know what happened to the girl.”
“Crazy.”
“I still need to shower and get things together for the game.”
“Ok.” I nod and take a big gulp of latte. He tells me about his night at work. I contemplate telling him what today is and about the Nutella incident from last night, but decide not to. At least not at the moment.
I finish my latte and we head back to his apartment. He quickly gets everything together and we’re off again. We take the train to another part of the city and find the book sale. I trail after him, looking at the various books with titles I can’t read and watch his excitement when he comes across something he finds interesting.
We’re not there long before he seems satisfied with what he’s found. After paying we’re on our way back to the underground.
“Got something for you.” he tells me.
“Me?” I look him as if he could be talking to someone else.
“Yeah, it’s a comic book.” he reaches into the bag and pulls out a purple book and hands it to me. “It’s written in English and the comics are by Scandinavian artists.”
“Thank you!” I exclaim, flipping through the pages. I wondered where he found this one. I obviously saw nothing in English.
“Welcome.” he nods.
We make it to the underground and it’s taking a while for the train to come. We’re quiet as I’m staring off into space and he’s reading the comic book. My plan is to read it on the flight home.
In what seemed like no time at all, we’re at the residence of the Royal family. A huge body of water is in front of the enormous mansion and lined with immaculately kept grass and cute benches. We walk around the side of the place and into the gardens. The sun is out and it’s getting a bit warm. I reach into my bag and pull my sunglasses out, placing them on my face. Olov watches me and starts laughing.
“What?”
“Those glasses.”
“What about ‘em?”
He’s still laughing. “I can’t take you seriously wearing those.”
“That is so not nice!” I start laughing. “I love these and have gotten nothing but compliments on them.”
“They’re still funny.” he continues.
We walk through the garden, stopping at a fountain and sitting on a bench in front of it.
“Let me see those.” Olov says about my glasses. When I hand them to him and he puts them on, it’s my turn to laugh.
“See?” he says as if trying to prove a point.
“Well of course they look funny on you!” I giggle. “You look like a bug!”
He hands them back and I wonder if I look like a bug. I decide that if so, I’m ok with that.
We’re quiet for a while. The weather is unbelievable. The sky is now scattered with fluffy white clouds, the sun is out and it’s not too hot. It looked just like this the day that Rob died. I’ll never forget looking up at the sky, outside of the coffee shop, listening to my dad crying, waiting for him to tell me what happened. Thoughts moved through my mind like “Whatever he has to say, I can handle it…” Never did I ever expect to hear I just lost one of the most special people to ever cross my path, and at such an odd time. We were just getting settled into a relationship, just getting used to the idea of each other. It was a clear, perfect day outside. Bad things aren’t supposed to happen on perfect days right?
The thought crosses my mind again to tell Olov but when I open my mouth, I close it again and sit quietly.
“C’mon.” he says, standing. “We’ve got maybe an hour before we have to catch the bus.”
“Ok.”
We walk further into the garden, stopping to take pictures then heading back to the bus. It’s late and he’s getting anxious. Ten minutes later it shows up. We’re still quiet. I’m taking in the scenery out here. The land is becoming more and more desolate, the further out we go. It seems to me that the sky appears to hang lower out here in Sweden than at home. It’s almost as if I had a tall enough ladder. I could climb to the top, reach up and sink my hand into a cloud.
“This is us.” Olov pipes up as the bus stops. We hop off and I follow him toward the soccer field. We meet up with the other two refs. I stand there, feeling silly as they speak Swedish. I don’t know what to do with myself. I end up sitting at a picnic table while they go off to a building and get changed. Gray looking clouds begin to take over the sky again. I watch as a team of soccer players begin to warm up. Olov and the other two refs appear and begin their own warm up. Shortly after the game starts, I make my way over to the bleachers and watch for 90 minutes as the ball gets kicked up and down the long field, Olov raising a flag every now and then. It’s quiet, chilly and peaceful out here. There are horses in the background and a tractor roaming around. Unidentified crops line the road and I wonder what it’s like to live out here. Are people happy or lonely? What happens in the winter when everything is covered in snow? So many random thoughts going through my head. I stop to think about Rob some more but those thoughts are fleeting as well.
Once the game ends, I wait as Olov changes clothes and we’re off again, back on the bus to the city.
“So you’ve seen Stockholm, a suburb of Stockholm and the country since you’ve been here.” Olov tells me.
“I know!” I smile.
“You’ve also seen what my daily life consists of.”
“Yup, and you’ve seen mine, minus the haircutting.”
“I work, and everything else is soccer!” he exclaims.
“I know!” I laugh. “I work, write and run mostly.”
The sun begins to set as we get closer to the city.
“What are you doing tonight?” I ask him.
“Crashing as soon as we get home.”
I laugh, forgetting he hasn’t slept yet. I still have enough energy to fuel us both, surprisingly. I stare out the window watching everything go by. I want to absorb every detail. I’ll never get this again. Sure, I could go back to Sweden but this moment, right here, will never happen again and it makes me sad.
When we get back to his place, I’m hungry and still want company for dinner. He declines when I ask.
“Where are you going to go?” he asks anyway.
“I’m going to find a Thai place.” I pull on my jacket again.
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Probably around the corner, or down the street.” I saw two places there on my first day in Stockholm.
“Both of them are good.” he says, turning the TV on.
We say goodbye and I end up walking down the street. It’s a small little place with a cute chandelier hanging in the window. I’m greeted by a pretty Asian woman who speaks English and hands me an English menu when I sit down.
Dinner is delicious. I spend all my time alternating between bites and writing many, many paragraphs in my journal, occasionally looking up to investigate people coming and going. One couple catches my eye while they’re waiting on food for take-away. They’re facing each other, completely wrapped up in their own world, holding hands and grinning at each other. I swore I wouldn’t sit here and ask “why?” after Rob died. Why is my person gone, but here I am, alone in a restaurant halfway around the world, salivating over the sweetness of this other couple asking “why?” Where are the strong hands that used to ask for mine, the green eyes that expressed more love than his words ever did, the calmness that would come over me when he was next to me. Where is he dammit? I miss my person.
I pay for dinner and head back to Olov’s. He’s still awake watching TV.
“How was dinner?” he asked?
“Delicious.” I smile, standing in the doorway.
“Where’d you go?”
I told him, unable to pronounce the name of it.
“Oh yeah, that place is good. What are you up to now?”
“I think I’m going to Gamla Stan again.” I reply, still half hoping he’ll join me.
“I’m going to bed soon.” he replies.
“Kay.”
“When are you coming back?”
“Don’t know.” I reply, going to the kitchen for my bag. We say goodbye and I head out the door and to the underground.
Tears find me on the train again without warning. I blink them back and get off at the next stop. I walk until I get to the underground café I went to earlier. The doors are closed and loud, live music is playing. Hmm. Maybe not tonight. I keep walking and stumble across another café. I order hot chocolate and a piece of carrot cake. I sit against a pillow that is against a window and write, stopping every so often to think. My co-worker crosses my mind. I imagine he’d like this little spot. When I can’t sit still anymore I leave and keep walking. It’s chilly outside but clear. The stars are twinkling and I stop to think how long it’s been since I’ve seen stars. I have no idea.
I’m not sure how much time has gone by before I stumble upon the chocolate café again. There is plenty of outdoor seating and despite the chilliness of the air I stop by, sitting at a small table. I wrap my legs up in a fleece blanket and order yet another hot chocolate. I’m never going to sleep tonight with all this sugar.
I pull my journal out again but I’m slower to write, too busy taking in everything around me. I’m afraid of getting so engrossed in my writing that I’ll miss something. Yet, I also feel that I’ll forget something if I don’t write it all down. I sit back in my chair, holding the hot chocolate in both hands watching the moon rise over a building. Don’t think I’ve seen anything quite like that before.
Still, with all this fabulousness, I’m having trouble relaxing. Thoughts of food creep in along with anxiety about returning home. The week is almost over. It’s not that I don’t to see everyone once I get home, I’m just not quite ready yet…
I don’t know what time it was when I returned home but I knew I couldn’t sleep. I stayed up for God knows how long, reading until I don’t remember reading anymore…