I open my eyes, still half asleep to see the light on in Charlie’s bathroom. My eyes squint to read the clock. It’s 3:50am. He’s leaving soon for the airport. In my sleepy state I can barely hear him moving around. My mind begins to entertain thoughts of being in the same state on Monday mornings when Rob would be getting ready to leave for South Carolina in the middle of the night. I hated waking up without him next to me, almost feeling like his being there was a dream in the first place.
I exhale, and drift off on a wave of sadness before my eyes close again and I fall back into sleep.
It’s 7:00am when my eyes are suddenly wide open, my heart is racing, and my mind is full of anxiety. I jump out of bed and get dressed. I’m moving as if I’m trying to run away from the uncomfortable feelings of being here without Rob, without Charlie, scrambling to find something to fill the void.
“Dishes.” I think to myself. I said I’d do the dishes before locking up his place and getting on with the day.
I try to move slowly, try to calm down but I can’t seem to get out from under the pressure I feel I’m pinned beneath. As I leave, I can’t decide whether or not I’m going to write in my journal or run. Once I’m outside, I decide coffee will cheer me up faster and if there’s time, then I’ll run.
I try to write. I suck down my Americano without tasting it. I’m fighting tears, fighting sadness, trying not to drown in it out of fear I won’t climb back out. Tomorrow will be eighteen months since Rob died. His birthday is Friday. What do I do with all of this?
Once the coffee is gone, I pick up some ice cream at a local grocery store. I’m already feeling the regret as I hand over the cash to pay for it. I haven’t done this in a while. I can’t believe I just forked over my hard earned money to hurt myself. What sense does that make? This ice cream…. Won’t bring Rob back, won’t ease the work stress, won’t make anything go away.
On my walk home I tell myself that I can throw it away. I don’t have to keep it, I don’t have to give in, but once I’m in the safe comfort of my apartment, I open it and sink into it’s cold, delicious flavored texture. It’s like scratching an itch. There’s relief at first then the itch wants more. Needs more pressure to relieve it. I keep scratching, feeling my brain spark with delight, wanting more and more. The scratching continues until what started out as relieving a simple little itch, has now turned into tearing into a gaping hole. It hurts, it’s screams and now, I’m stuck with it, waiting for it to heal.
I come out of my food induced high with the same sadness I woke up with plus anger as explosive as a bomb.
“Dammit.” I toss the container into the trash and go into my room to pull on my running clothes.
“What the hell was that?” I ask myself as the wind tears at my face while my feet pound the pavement. “What did that accomplish?”
I have no answers. I finish my run, and get dressed for work. My anger is still there and I’m hiding behind it to keep the sadness away. I feel an insatiable need to take care of myself, to stop giving in when food wants attention, I just don’t know how to climb out again. I think I’m just going to have sit down here and let all this wash over me. I’ll try it again. I’ll try to let the sadness come through, feel it, address it, and take one more step forward. I didn’t get to this point over night. Eighteen months didn’t happen in twenty four hours…
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
Promotion...
Lately, I’ve felt everything has been on fast forward. I looked up from the tedious day-in and day-out details of my life to see that six months has gone by since I’ve so much as glanced at my little space out here in the middle of the internet. I must say I haven’t been really inspired to write but today I felt the mood strike and decided to, in a familiar, almost reluctant way, sit still and do one of the things I love most. Why I withhold writing from myself with my long list of excuses and distractions, I’ll never know…
I’m happy to say that I still live in the precious apartment I first moved into when I moved to Chicago. I’ve collected a small group of wonderful friends and am happy in my relationship with Charlie. We’ve just celebrated eight fabulous months. While we agree neither of us have a clue as to what to do with each other provided this relationship thing is new to both of us, I’ve managed to slip from my quiet little existence by myself and fall ridiculously in love with someone who has managed to (unbeknownst to him) compliment and enhance my life in ways I never thought possible or could imagine. It isn’t the brand new, timid, fumbling spring chicken kind of love I had in high school, or the rabid, insatiable, profoundly intense love I shared with Rob but a secure, mature love running deeper than I ever thought possible. It makes me happier is ways I never expected.
It’s been nearly a year since I started work at Art+Science salon. I’m starting to finish up with class, which means moving up from assisting to being a stylist, which means time is closing in around the decision that will be made as to which salon I’ll be placed at. Currently, as an assistant, I bounce from location to location. There are three salons, one in Wicker Park (where I live) one in Lincoln Park and one outside the city in Evanston.
Wicker Park is my first choice along with everyone else. It’s closest to my house and all around fabulous. Since my first day though, I’ve had a feeling I’d be placed in Evanston, much to my dismay. The salon reminds me of Van Michael. It’s huge, loud, busy and far from where I live. I don’t want to repeat that time in my life. In Atlanta, Buckhead raped my soul, made me an angry, compulsive eating, personality disordered wreck and I refuse to go back to being that person. Ultimately, I have little control over where I’m going to be placed. This has made me nervous as I’m reaching for muffins and sitting on pins and needles waiting to hear where I’ll make my new professional home. The only thing I can do is voice my opinion and wait.
So I do. I meet with several managers and explain my concerns. I feel as if they’re listening and understanding which is all I really want but I still have a nagging feeling that Wicker Park isn’t in the cards for me and I’m going to have to be ok with that. Even as I prayed, and talked to Rob about it I feel like I’m being told something…something I don’t want to hear but would ultimately be a blessing in disguise.
I had just put my things down and clocked in at Lincoln Park when I saw I had missed a call from our education director, Paul. His voicemail was short, asking me to call him back. I dial the number and wait.
“Hello?” He picked up quickly.
“Hey Paul! It’s Melissa. How are you?” I smile and rake my fingers through my hair.
“I’m good! How are you?”
“Good.” I’m still smiling out of fear of what will happen if I stop. This is really about to happen. Eleven months after working here, I’m about to find out where I’m going to be placed. Right? There’s no other reason for him to call…
“So I’m calling to tell you that we’ve come to a decision about where you’ll be placed.” he begins.
“Yeah?” I inhale and suddenly my brain is reeling backward to a time where I was standing on a train platform after my first interview, Rob’s voice in my ear congratulating me on setting up my second interview with Art+Science. That image is replaced with him telling me over the phone again the night before that interview, to be myself, have fun and they’ll hire me on the spot. After being questioned by eleven people I was hired right then. I’ll never be able to describe what it felt like that day in front of them. I don’t recognize that girl when I look back. She was on the edge of her seat, animated, laughing, honest, unafraid of what questions she may have to answer. She felt they would accept her if she let her guard down. So she stepped out of her comfy little box and let them see her…
I felt so much love I could barely comprehend it. I have no idea where it came from. These people didn’t know me, Rob was still in South Carolina but it was like he was sitting there with me through all of it.
Fast forward through eleven months of climbing back in the box, bouncing from salon to salon, racing from client to client, rinsing color, blowdrying, sweeping hair, feeding parking meters, hauling out the trash, long days, short days, scrambling to find models, rain, snow, sunshine, watching my hands and sanity disintegrate, pushing through it when I wanted to sink until I drowned, sometimes crawling through the day just to reach the end. I have finally reached a light at the end of a long tunnel.
Paul’s sentences become fragments as I struggle to comprehend his words while replaying the past.
“We really wanted you… no room… you would do well anywhere…”
I’m nodding until I hear it.
“Evanston.” he says and I exhale.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I hear him smile. “You’re going to do great.”
We hang up shortly after and I look around the break room trying to identify my feelings. I don’t know yet. I feel my heart begin to race. My head is swimming. It’s plotting out the upcoming work I’ll have to put in to bringing in new clients, asking myself how am I going to set myself apart? How am I going to be creative in bringing in these new people? I think about my commute, how I’ll handle days where it’s minus whatever outside, or ninety, I imagine my clientele and what they’ll be like, what I’ll learn from them, and what I’ll give back to them.
All these thoughts happen in thirty seconds before I pick up the phone and call Charlie. I can’t sit still with it right now.
“Hi!” I exclaim when he picks up. “I have something to tell you.”
“Oh really?”
“I just (inhale, exhale) got a call from Paul. I’ve been placed in Evanston.”
“How do you feel about it?” he asks.
“I’m ok. I’m not surprised or anything.”
“You’re gonna be making actual money!” I hear him smile.
“You’re right!” I laugh.
“Are you going to move up there? he asks.
“Hell no! Are you kidding? I have everything I want where I live. There’s no way I’m moving.”
We’re quiet for a second before I continue. “I can’t believe this is happening. It’s actually here.”
“You’re gonna do just fine up there.” he reminds me.
We get off the phone shortly after and I go to fold towels. My head is still swimming wondering how life would be if Rob were still here, what he would say to my news. He sees a bigger picture now. I think it’s why I’m not freaking out. I know he’s here with me and wouldn’t steer me in a wrong direction. I can almost feel him, can almost touch him if only I knew which direction to reach out in…
I’m happy to say that I still live in the precious apartment I first moved into when I moved to Chicago. I’ve collected a small group of wonderful friends and am happy in my relationship with Charlie. We’ve just celebrated eight fabulous months. While we agree neither of us have a clue as to what to do with each other provided this relationship thing is new to both of us, I’ve managed to slip from my quiet little existence by myself and fall ridiculously in love with someone who has managed to (unbeknownst to him) compliment and enhance my life in ways I never thought possible or could imagine. It isn’t the brand new, timid, fumbling spring chicken kind of love I had in high school, or the rabid, insatiable, profoundly intense love I shared with Rob but a secure, mature love running deeper than I ever thought possible. It makes me happier is ways I never expected.
It’s been nearly a year since I started work at Art+Science salon. I’m starting to finish up with class, which means moving up from assisting to being a stylist, which means time is closing in around the decision that will be made as to which salon I’ll be placed at. Currently, as an assistant, I bounce from location to location. There are three salons, one in Wicker Park (where I live) one in Lincoln Park and one outside the city in Evanston.
Wicker Park is my first choice along with everyone else. It’s closest to my house and all around fabulous. Since my first day though, I’ve had a feeling I’d be placed in Evanston, much to my dismay. The salon reminds me of Van Michael. It’s huge, loud, busy and far from where I live. I don’t want to repeat that time in my life. In Atlanta, Buckhead raped my soul, made me an angry, compulsive eating, personality disordered wreck and I refuse to go back to being that person. Ultimately, I have little control over where I’m going to be placed. This has made me nervous as I’m reaching for muffins and sitting on pins and needles waiting to hear where I’ll make my new professional home. The only thing I can do is voice my opinion and wait.
So I do. I meet with several managers and explain my concerns. I feel as if they’re listening and understanding which is all I really want but I still have a nagging feeling that Wicker Park isn’t in the cards for me and I’m going to have to be ok with that. Even as I prayed, and talked to Rob about it I feel like I’m being told something…something I don’t want to hear but would ultimately be a blessing in disguise.
I had just put my things down and clocked in at Lincoln Park when I saw I had missed a call from our education director, Paul. His voicemail was short, asking me to call him back. I dial the number and wait.
“Hello?” He picked up quickly.
“Hey Paul! It’s Melissa. How are you?” I smile and rake my fingers through my hair.
“I’m good! How are you?”
“Good.” I’m still smiling out of fear of what will happen if I stop. This is really about to happen. Eleven months after working here, I’m about to find out where I’m going to be placed. Right? There’s no other reason for him to call…
“So I’m calling to tell you that we’ve come to a decision about where you’ll be placed.” he begins.
“Yeah?” I inhale and suddenly my brain is reeling backward to a time where I was standing on a train platform after my first interview, Rob’s voice in my ear congratulating me on setting up my second interview with Art+Science. That image is replaced with him telling me over the phone again the night before that interview, to be myself, have fun and they’ll hire me on the spot. After being questioned by eleven people I was hired right then. I’ll never be able to describe what it felt like that day in front of them. I don’t recognize that girl when I look back. She was on the edge of her seat, animated, laughing, honest, unafraid of what questions she may have to answer. She felt they would accept her if she let her guard down. So she stepped out of her comfy little box and let them see her…
I felt so much love I could barely comprehend it. I have no idea where it came from. These people didn’t know me, Rob was still in South Carolina but it was like he was sitting there with me through all of it.
Fast forward through eleven months of climbing back in the box, bouncing from salon to salon, racing from client to client, rinsing color, blowdrying, sweeping hair, feeding parking meters, hauling out the trash, long days, short days, scrambling to find models, rain, snow, sunshine, watching my hands and sanity disintegrate, pushing through it when I wanted to sink until I drowned, sometimes crawling through the day just to reach the end. I have finally reached a light at the end of a long tunnel.
Paul’s sentences become fragments as I struggle to comprehend his words while replaying the past.
“We really wanted you… no room… you would do well anywhere…”
I’m nodding until I hear it.
“Evanston.” he says and I exhale.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I hear him smile. “You’re going to do great.”
We hang up shortly after and I look around the break room trying to identify my feelings. I don’t know yet. I feel my heart begin to race. My head is swimming. It’s plotting out the upcoming work I’ll have to put in to bringing in new clients, asking myself how am I going to set myself apart? How am I going to be creative in bringing in these new people? I think about my commute, how I’ll handle days where it’s minus whatever outside, or ninety, I imagine my clientele and what they’ll be like, what I’ll learn from them, and what I’ll give back to them.
All these thoughts happen in thirty seconds before I pick up the phone and call Charlie. I can’t sit still with it right now.
“Hi!” I exclaim when he picks up. “I have something to tell you.”
“Oh really?”
“I just (inhale, exhale) got a call from Paul. I’ve been placed in Evanston.”
“How do you feel about it?” he asks.
“I’m ok. I’m not surprised or anything.”
“You’re gonna be making actual money!” I hear him smile.
“You’re right!” I laugh.
“Are you going to move up there? he asks.
“Hell no! Are you kidding? I have everything I want where I live. There’s no way I’m moving.”
We’re quiet for a second before I continue. “I can’t believe this is happening. It’s actually here.”
“You’re gonna do just fine up there.” he reminds me.
We get off the phone shortly after and I go to fold towels. My head is still swimming wondering how life would be if Rob were still here, what he would say to my news. He sees a bigger picture now. I think it’s why I’m not freaking out. I know he’s here with me and wouldn’t steer me in a wrong direction. I can almost feel him, can almost touch him if only I knew which direction to reach out in…
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Twelve months...
It’s raining outside when I wake up. I somehow managed to sleep until 9am. I get out of bed not wanting to acknowledge that it’s April 20th and Rob has been gone a full year. At about this time last year, the sun was up and he was leaving my place for work. The last thing I said to him was “I love you”, and he was gone.
Hours later I was on the phone with my dad saying “Daddy, I’m never going to see him again, never going to touch him again, never going to hear him again…” over and over. I wanted him to fix it, change it, tell me it was a mistake but instead he said nothing.
This morning, I eat breakfast and go to the coffee shop I frequented when I first moved here. I set up my computer in a small room in the back and write. I don’t cry, acknowledge anyone, or look up really from what I’m doing. I drinking a soy latte in Rob’s memory, remembering the day we met. I was standing behind him in line at Starbucks, not realizing he was who he was and I watched him order a soy latte thinking that was interesting. After trying his one day a few weeks after meeting him that day, I was hooked.
A couple hours later when I couldn’t sit still anymore, I leave the coffee shop and walk through the drizzly rain home. Tears find me on the street, but I don’t let them fall. I don’t know what this is. Right after Rob died all I wanted to do was talk and not crying wasn’t an option. It wasn’t like me to do all of that so openly but it felt so good that eventually I started this whole blog action.
At home I pull out my journal from last spring and read about the events of April 20th. I was angry at Rob but didn’t know why. I wanted his attention but he was so focused on getting to Robby’s that I remained angry, feeling like an afterthought. Yes, I had to work as well but I wanted him to stop for a minute and quit worrying. The whole time I was with Rob I had this feeling that I should tell him absolutely everything always. I felt that there wasn’t enough time ever, that I was trying to squeeze everything in. I’m assuming he didn’t feel this way. I thought my feelings were stemming from my impending move to Chicago. I never imagined what actually happened.
The morning he left my house I cried and cried but not understanding why. I eventually got dressed and went to work, still feeling a bit “off”. That feeling was replaced with the most profound hurt I’ve ever experienced when my dad called that afternoon.
I shut the journal, unable to read the conversation I had with Daddy and put on my gym clothes. I leave and walk to the train, my eyes avoiding contact with anyone on the street. Rage is bubbling under my skin. I don’t know where to pin point it or what to do with it but it isn’t going away. I don’t know how to comprehend Rob’s year long absence. He was just here. I was just waiting for him on a Friday night, he was just making me laugh, I was just telling him a story, we were just accumulating atrocious phone bills, he was just saying “I love you.” No matter where I go, who I talk to, what I see…no matter how many words I type, he’s not coming back and it’s enough to make me insane so to ward off the straightjacket, I’ll just be mad until I can think of a better idea.
I push dumbbells over my head. Again, tears want to make an appearance and again I blink them back. I’m suddenly afraid of being vulnerable. I want nothing to do with anyone. I’m terrified of appearing unstable. I’ve been so focused lately on being the “perfect” employee, the “perfect” girlfriend, the “perfect” friend that I seem to have lost sight of that fact that I’m a human with many more emotions other than “happy” and right now, I’m not willing to accept it. Somewhere in my mind, I seem to believe that acceptance means this really did happen, Rob really is gone, and this…right now, is my life as I now know it and that is too much to take in. I sometimes feel I’m re-living someone else’s life when I go back and think of Rob and experience the memories I have of him. It is such a rude awakening when I’m forced to see that this is all real, and it all happened.
When I’m finished at the gym I go home to drop my bag off and head out again for a run. It feels like any other day, running up Milwaukee Ave., looking at the shops, dodging people, and singing along with my iPOD in my head. I’m simply refusing to think about anything else.
At home again thoughts of Rob start creeping back into my head. I wonder how he would want me to spend today. Am I doing ok so far? If everything were reversed, how would I want him to spend his day if I were gone? I think to myself that I would want him to do whatever he wanted that made him happy. I took a shower and went to the coffee shop I met Charlie in.
I tried to write some more but it’s too hard. I keep staring out the window. Mom has called twice. It’s not that I don’t want to talk, I’m unable (or maybe I’m unwilling) to do so. I find that I’ve wanted to push away the people I’m closest to while reaching out to the people I’m sorta-kinda close with and tell them everything. Whatever “everything” may mean…
Instead I reach out to no one, still afraid I am unable to handle what might come out of me, and unable to handle another person’s response. I try to write some more but eventually give up and go home, but not before stopping for a pint of ice cream which I promptly consume to it’s entirety while continuing to write on my laptop. I know this won’t solve any problems, it just will numb me for a moment so I can not be here.
I decide to take a break from writing and email a friend of mine who had a similar experience several years ago. She’s now happily married and we’ve talked a little bit about our grief and how we each have handled it shortly after Rob died. (she lives in Atlanta) I wanted to know about her current relationship with her husband and how they both handled her experience, plus I wanted to know what she felt after her first love had been gone a year.
She writes me back quickly saying she doesn’t really remember the first year and time really does make things better although the sadness never goes away. She goes on to tell me about her husband and how he’s so different from the boyfriend she lost that it’s impossible to make comparisons. She also says that she doesn’t talk a lot about it because he’s never had anything like this happen to him before and it’s hard for him to hear about or see her hurt.
I feel this way about Charlie. He’s so completely different but still just as wonderful as Rob. Sometimes though, at the most random times I feel like I need to talk though. Half the time I don’t know how or what to say really, it’s just this urge to get something out.
I shut the computer down, unable to do anything or think about anything else. When I walk into my room, I change into my pajamas unable to look at the pictures of Rob’s smiling face on my bookshelf and fall into bed hoping sleep comes fast.
Hours later I was on the phone with my dad saying “Daddy, I’m never going to see him again, never going to touch him again, never going to hear him again…” over and over. I wanted him to fix it, change it, tell me it was a mistake but instead he said nothing.
This morning, I eat breakfast and go to the coffee shop I frequented when I first moved here. I set up my computer in a small room in the back and write. I don’t cry, acknowledge anyone, or look up really from what I’m doing. I drinking a soy latte in Rob’s memory, remembering the day we met. I was standing behind him in line at Starbucks, not realizing he was who he was and I watched him order a soy latte thinking that was interesting. After trying his one day a few weeks after meeting him that day, I was hooked.
A couple hours later when I couldn’t sit still anymore, I leave the coffee shop and walk through the drizzly rain home. Tears find me on the street, but I don’t let them fall. I don’t know what this is. Right after Rob died all I wanted to do was talk and not crying wasn’t an option. It wasn’t like me to do all of that so openly but it felt so good that eventually I started this whole blog action.
At home I pull out my journal from last spring and read about the events of April 20th. I was angry at Rob but didn’t know why. I wanted his attention but he was so focused on getting to Robby’s that I remained angry, feeling like an afterthought. Yes, I had to work as well but I wanted him to stop for a minute and quit worrying. The whole time I was with Rob I had this feeling that I should tell him absolutely everything always. I felt that there wasn’t enough time ever, that I was trying to squeeze everything in. I’m assuming he didn’t feel this way. I thought my feelings were stemming from my impending move to Chicago. I never imagined what actually happened.
The morning he left my house I cried and cried but not understanding why. I eventually got dressed and went to work, still feeling a bit “off”. That feeling was replaced with the most profound hurt I’ve ever experienced when my dad called that afternoon.
I shut the journal, unable to read the conversation I had with Daddy and put on my gym clothes. I leave and walk to the train, my eyes avoiding contact with anyone on the street. Rage is bubbling under my skin. I don’t know where to pin point it or what to do with it but it isn’t going away. I don’t know how to comprehend Rob’s year long absence. He was just here. I was just waiting for him on a Friday night, he was just making me laugh, I was just telling him a story, we were just accumulating atrocious phone bills, he was just saying “I love you.” No matter where I go, who I talk to, what I see…no matter how many words I type, he’s not coming back and it’s enough to make me insane so to ward off the straightjacket, I’ll just be mad until I can think of a better idea.
I push dumbbells over my head. Again, tears want to make an appearance and again I blink them back. I’m suddenly afraid of being vulnerable. I want nothing to do with anyone. I’m terrified of appearing unstable. I’ve been so focused lately on being the “perfect” employee, the “perfect” girlfriend, the “perfect” friend that I seem to have lost sight of that fact that I’m a human with many more emotions other than “happy” and right now, I’m not willing to accept it. Somewhere in my mind, I seem to believe that acceptance means this really did happen, Rob really is gone, and this…right now, is my life as I now know it and that is too much to take in. I sometimes feel I’m re-living someone else’s life when I go back and think of Rob and experience the memories I have of him. It is such a rude awakening when I’m forced to see that this is all real, and it all happened.
When I’m finished at the gym I go home to drop my bag off and head out again for a run. It feels like any other day, running up Milwaukee Ave., looking at the shops, dodging people, and singing along with my iPOD in my head. I’m simply refusing to think about anything else.
At home again thoughts of Rob start creeping back into my head. I wonder how he would want me to spend today. Am I doing ok so far? If everything were reversed, how would I want him to spend his day if I were gone? I think to myself that I would want him to do whatever he wanted that made him happy. I took a shower and went to the coffee shop I met Charlie in.
I tried to write some more but it’s too hard. I keep staring out the window. Mom has called twice. It’s not that I don’t want to talk, I’m unable (or maybe I’m unwilling) to do so. I find that I’ve wanted to push away the people I’m closest to while reaching out to the people I’m sorta-kinda close with and tell them everything. Whatever “everything” may mean…
Instead I reach out to no one, still afraid I am unable to handle what might come out of me, and unable to handle another person’s response. I try to write some more but eventually give up and go home, but not before stopping for a pint of ice cream which I promptly consume to it’s entirety while continuing to write on my laptop. I know this won’t solve any problems, it just will numb me for a moment so I can not be here.
I decide to take a break from writing and email a friend of mine who had a similar experience several years ago. She’s now happily married and we’ve talked a little bit about our grief and how we each have handled it shortly after Rob died. (she lives in Atlanta) I wanted to know about her current relationship with her husband and how they both handled her experience, plus I wanted to know what she felt after her first love had been gone a year.
She writes me back quickly saying she doesn’t really remember the first year and time really does make things better although the sadness never goes away. She goes on to tell me about her husband and how he’s so different from the boyfriend she lost that it’s impossible to make comparisons. She also says that she doesn’t talk a lot about it because he’s never had anything like this happen to him before and it’s hard for him to hear about or see her hurt.
I feel this way about Charlie. He’s so completely different but still just as wonderful as Rob. Sometimes though, at the most random times I feel like I need to talk though. Half the time I don’t know how or what to say really, it’s just this urge to get something out.
I shut the computer down, unable to do anything or think about anything else. When I walk into my room, I change into my pajamas unable to look at the pictures of Rob’s smiling face on my bookshelf and fall into bed hoping sleep comes fast.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Skinned...
The end of my work day is coming and it’s all the sudden gotten crazy. I’m in Evanston today and trying to get home before Kat and Charlie arrive. He’s been in D.C. all week and she’s coming for the weekend. I’m ecstatic to see them both but also feeling rather emotional. I’m in a constant state of angry so as to avoid feeling anything else. April 20th, the year anniversary of Rob’s death is coming up and I’m a mess and don’t want to admit it. I’m trying to keep the happy face on but I’m feeling I’m on the edge of losing it.
At the current moment, I have two clients going at the same time plus I’m trying to collect all the trash and take it out before the hour and a half trek home on the train. On top of that, Charlie texted me saying he’s trying to fly stand-by home and the flight he wants to get on is oversold plus the flight he’s scheduled to leave on is delayed. Awesome.
I’m trying to get the color rinsed off of one client while another one is sitting with a toner on her highlights. Both clients need to feed their meters and aren’t too happy with the juggling situation I’ve got going on, but there is no one else to help. It’s time to rinse the toner as I’m finishing the one client, explaining I’ll be back to shampoo her.
“Can’t anyone else do it?” she huffs.
“If someone could, they would.” I nod. “I’ll check one more time.” I race over to the other shampoo bowls to find another assistant while the toner client pipes up at me saying “Um, excuse me, it’s time to rinse! I have to feed my meter!”
“I’m coming!” I try not to snap as I find Vanessa and ask her to shampoo the client I just rinsed.
“In a minute.” she tells me because she too is shampooing someone.
“Thanks.” I exhale and get the toner off this woman’s head while she talks to me like I’m in kindergarten, explaining what products I’ll be finding for her when it’s time to style her hair.
I quickly get her set up at the blow-dry station, because she wants to do it herself. I find all her products, get her a comb, a diffuser, and a fresh towel and I’m on my way to take the trash out, hands shaking from rage.
In the break room, I gather the last of the large trash bags and exclaim to Lauren, a stylist that I’m going to scream.
“Let it out girl. What happened?”
I explain the clients and the meters and being spoken to as if I’m ignorant. I’m talking so fast I barely take in any air.
“Just give me a minute will you!” I exclaim. “I promise I’m doing the best I can! What is wrong with people?!”
“I know girl, I know.” she nods.
“Melissa?” LaRae’s elegant voice is behind me. She’s a receptionist and when I turn to face her, I see she’s carrying a dozen beautiful red roses. “These are for you.” she hands them to me.
“Really?!” my entire being lights up.
“Yup!”
“Who are they from?” I ask, noticing there is no card.
“A lil birdie.” she smiles.
“What does this birdie look like?” I grin.
“Not telling you!” she turns and walks out of the break room.
“LaRae!” I trail after her. “Tell me!”
“Nope!” she smiled and made her way back up front.
I lightened up after that, assuming the flowers were from Charlie but how did they get here when he wasn’t in the city yet?
I haul the garbage outside and seriously contemplate screaming, I’m still so overwhelmed. I cry instead. Tears burn my cheeks as I toss the trash into the huge dumpster, walk back inside and clock out.
I check my phone and got a text from Charlie earlier saying he was on the train back to the city. I texted him back saying I was leaving. Five minutes later I was out the door and trucking it to the train. I heard someone running behind me and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Hands landed on my shoulders, a kiss landed on my neck and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned to see Charlie smiling me at me.
“Hi!!!” I squealed hugging and kissing him. “Really?!”
He nodded. “I can’t believe I just pulled that off. I made that stand-by flight and had enough time to get you flowers and pick you up.”
I am speechless. We walk to his car and my hand immediately finds the back of his head once he‘s started driving. “Thank you so much. It’s been a hellacious day and you completely turned it around.”
He turned and smiled at me.
We’re quiet for a while before he says (after I rehashed this afternoon) “I know this is a tough weekend for you. I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
The fact that he remembered and is opening himself up to receive my insanity instantly touches me and I try not to cry.
“Thank you. I do want to talk about it, I just don’t know what to say. Nothing makes it better so I think what’s the point? There’s nothing anyone can do, nothing I can do, but just sit there and deal with it.”
After Rob died I talked incessantly. Now, nearly a year later, I feel like a scared animal who has been skinned and tossed aside, left to her own devices and too scared to say a word to anyone.
Scared of what I don’t know. Scared of losing control? Scared of seeming unstable? Of crying? I don’t know. I don’t know how to fix it or alleviate any of it.
At Charlie’s we get settled for a minute knowing we’ll be back out again to meet Kat. She’s on the train coming in from Midway. I’m laying across Charlie’s bed on my back, staring at the ceiling. He’s next to me on his side. I feel his eyes on me but I don’t turn to look at him. I start talking about the day before Rob died, going over the tiniest details, like how I was supposed to pick up salad dressing for dinner and instead went to visit Kat at the pub because I knew he’d be late. I told him about Rob being stressed when he got to my place because he had left Robby with a mess. He didn’t tell Robby that he was meeting me. I told him how he would be sarcastic with me when he was stressed out and how I told him it hurt my feelings. I told him Rob and I talked about how we wanted our wedding to be while eating the dinner he cooked and how his snoring kept me up that night so I slept on the couch and cried myself to sleep because I was angry at him for reasons I couldn’t figure out and couldn’t shake, not even the next morning.
“I don’t know what it was.” I sighed. “I’ve never felt like that before.”
My phone began ringing. It’s Kat and she’s close. When I hang up Charlie is off the bed. “To be continued!” he tells me. I don’t say anything. I don’t know when I’ll be able to continue it. Talking about this is weird. Once I get the guts to say something, I have to finish it, otherwise, it’ll be a while before I’m able to say anything else.
Once we get Kat settled at my place, Charlie takes the two of us to dinner. I’m so happy to have her here. We’re all deliriously tired after dinner. Charlie is leaving for Milwaukee the in morning, and I’m going to work. Kat decides I should stay with him tonight, and she’ll stay at my place. I don’t put up much of an argument.
The next morning I’m up early and getting dressed while Charlie is still passed out. I woke up extra early to be able to spend a teeny bit more time with him but I can see that plan has backfired as he hasn’t moved in the past forty five minutes. I decide to leave and go for a walk before I have to get on the train to Evanston again.
“You leavin’?” he asks, his eyes still closed as I’m standing in front of the bed.
“Yes.” I don‘t move. His eyes open and he tells me I look nice.
“Thanks.” I reply, still not moving. I somehow decide to take this moment to tell him a story about the gym. I’m halfway into it before he stops me and says “Wait, what time do you have to work?”
“I have to leave here at eight fifteen!”
“Ok. I just don’t want you to be late.”
“Don’t worry about it. You know how I am about time.”
“Keep talkin’.” he says and gets out of bed. I quickly finish my story and launch into how I feel about not wanting to work today.
“I just need a lil bit of time off. I can’t seem to get my head straight.”
He offers some suggestions to which I ask “Are you trying to fix my problem?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Cause you know, it’s not really about work. I’m just choosing to take it out on work.”
“I know.” he pushes his feet into his shoes. “Come on. I’m taking you to Lovely.” (the coffee shop we met in.)
“They don’t open until nine.”
“What?” he looked deflated. “I can make you some coffee and oatmeal here then. That be ok?”
“Yes.” I smile and nod. He walks over to me and hugs me.
“I just want to take care of you.” he says.
“Ok.” I kiss him, feeling myself softening up. Maybe it won’t be such an icky day after all.
At the current moment, I have two clients going at the same time plus I’m trying to collect all the trash and take it out before the hour and a half trek home on the train. On top of that, Charlie texted me saying he’s trying to fly stand-by home and the flight he wants to get on is oversold plus the flight he’s scheduled to leave on is delayed. Awesome.
I’m trying to get the color rinsed off of one client while another one is sitting with a toner on her highlights. Both clients need to feed their meters and aren’t too happy with the juggling situation I’ve got going on, but there is no one else to help. It’s time to rinse the toner as I’m finishing the one client, explaining I’ll be back to shampoo her.
“Can’t anyone else do it?” she huffs.
“If someone could, they would.” I nod. “I’ll check one more time.” I race over to the other shampoo bowls to find another assistant while the toner client pipes up at me saying “Um, excuse me, it’s time to rinse! I have to feed my meter!”
“I’m coming!” I try not to snap as I find Vanessa and ask her to shampoo the client I just rinsed.
“In a minute.” she tells me because she too is shampooing someone.
“Thanks.” I exhale and get the toner off this woman’s head while she talks to me like I’m in kindergarten, explaining what products I’ll be finding for her when it’s time to style her hair.
I quickly get her set up at the blow-dry station, because she wants to do it herself. I find all her products, get her a comb, a diffuser, and a fresh towel and I’m on my way to take the trash out, hands shaking from rage.
In the break room, I gather the last of the large trash bags and exclaim to Lauren, a stylist that I’m going to scream.
“Let it out girl. What happened?”
I explain the clients and the meters and being spoken to as if I’m ignorant. I’m talking so fast I barely take in any air.
“Just give me a minute will you!” I exclaim. “I promise I’m doing the best I can! What is wrong with people?!”
“I know girl, I know.” she nods.
“Melissa?” LaRae’s elegant voice is behind me. She’s a receptionist and when I turn to face her, I see she’s carrying a dozen beautiful red roses. “These are for you.” she hands them to me.
“Really?!” my entire being lights up.
“Yup!”
“Who are they from?” I ask, noticing there is no card.
“A lil birdie.” she smiles.
“What does this birdie look like?” I grin.
“Not telling you!” she turns and walks out of the break room.
“LaRae!” I trail after her. “Tell me!”
“Nope!” she smiled and made her way back up front.
I lightened up after that, assuming the flowers were from Charlie but how did they get here when he wasn’t in the city yet?
I haul the garbage outside and seriously contemplate screaming, I’m still so overwhelmed. I cry instead. Tears burn my cheeks as I toss the trash into the huge dumpster, walk back inside and clock out.
I check my phone and got a text from Charlie earlier saying he was on the train back to the city. I texted him back saying I was leaving. Five minutes later I was out the door and trucking it to the train. I heard someone running behind me and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Hands landed on my shoulders, a kiss landed on my neck and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned to see Charlie smiling me at me.
“Hi!!!” I squealed hugging and kissing him. “Really?!”
He nodded. “I can’t believe I just pulled that off. I made that stand-by flight and had enough time to get you flowers and pick you up.”
I am speechless. We walk to his car and my hand immediately finds the back of his head once he‘s started driving. “Thank you so much. It’s been a hellacious day and you completely turned it around.”
He turned and smiled at me.
We’re quiet for a while before he says (after I rehashed this afternoon) “I know this is a tough weekend for you. I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
The fact that he remembered and is opening himself up to receive my insanity instantly touches me and I try not to cry.
“Thank you. I do want to talk about it, I just don’t know what to say. Nothing makes it better so I think what’s the point? There’s nothing anyone can do, nothing I can do, but just sit there and deal with it.”
After Rob died I talked incessantly. Now, nearly a year later, I feel like a scared animal who has been skinned and tossed aside, left to her own devices and too scared to say a word to anyone.
Scared of what I don’t know. Scared of losing control? Scared of seeming unstable? Of crying? I don’t know. I don’t know how to fix it or alleviate any of it.
At Charlie’s we get settled for a minute knowing we’ll be back out again to meet Kat. She’s on the train coming in from Midway. I’m laying across Charlie’s bed on my back, staring at the ceiling. He’s next to me on his side. I feel his eyes on me but I don’t turn to look at him. I start talking about the day before Rob died, going over the tiniest details, like how I was supposed to pick up salad dressing for dinner and instead went to visit Kat at the pub because I knew he’d be late. I told him about Rob being stressed when he got to my place because he had left Robby with a mess. He didn’t tell Robby that he was meeting me. I told him how he would be sarcastic with me when he was stressed out and how I told him it hurt my feelings. I told him Rob and I talked about how we wanted our wedding to be while eating the dinner he cooked and how his snoring kept me up that night so I slept on the couch and cried myself to sleep because I was angry at him for reasons I couldn’t figure out and couldn’t shake, not even the next morning.
“I don’t know what it was.” I sighed. “I’ve never felt like that before.”
My phone began ringing. It’s Kat and she’s close. When I hang up Charlie is off the bed. “To be continued!” he tells me. I don’t say anything. I don’t know when I’ll be able to continue it. Talking about this is weird. Once I get the guts to say something, I have to finish it, otherwise, it’ll be a while before I’m able to say anything else.
Once we get Kat settled at my place, Charlie takes the two of us to dinner. I’m so happy to have her here. We’re all deliriously tired after dinner. Charlie is leaving for Milwaukee the in morning, and I’m going to work. Kat decides I should stay with him tonight, and she’ll stay at my place. I don’t put up much of an argument.
The next morning I’m up early and getting dressed while Charlie is still passed out. I woke up extra early to be able to spend a teeny bit more time with him but I can see that plan has backfired as he hasn’t moved in the past forty five minutes. I decide to leave and go for a walk before I have to get on the train to Evanston again.
“You leavin’?” he asks, his eyes still closed as I’m standing in front of the bed.
“Yes.” I don‘t move. His eyes open and he tells me I look nice.
“Thanks.” I reply, still not moving. I somehow decide to take this moment to tell him a story about the gym. I’m halfway into it before he stops me and says “Wait, what time do you have to work?”
“I have to leave here at eight fifteen!”
“Ok. I just don’t want you to be late.”
“Don’t worry about it. You know how I am about time.”
“Keep talkin’.” he says and gets out of bed. I quickly finish my story and launch into how I feel about not wanting to work today.
“I just need a lil bit of time off. I can’t seem to get my head straight.”
He offers some suggestions to which I ask “Are you trying to fix my problem?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Cause you know, it’s not really about work. I’m just choosing to take it out on work.”
“I know.” he pushes his feet into his shoes. “Come on. I’m taking you to Lovely.” (the coffee shop we met in.)
“They don’t open until nine.”
“What?” he looked deflated. “I can make you some coffee and oatmeal here then. That be ok?”
“Yes.” I smile and nod. He walks over to me and hugs me.
“I just want to take care of you.” he says.
“Ok.” I kiss him, feeling myself softening up. Maybe it won’t be such an icky day after all.
Easter...
My alarm goes off at three in the morning. I roll out of bed, get dressed, pack the last of my things and head out for the train. I’m barely able to think as I sit at the platform hoping to get on this flight to Atlanta. I didn’t hear from dad so I assume everything is fine.
At Ohare I stand against the wall at the gate watching my name on the stand-by list get pushed further and further down on the overhead computer screen. Kids are everywhere, crawling around and screaming. I just want to sit on this plane and sleep just a few more hours…
When Charlie and I discussed coming to Atlanta, he decided to purchase a ticket on United. He would be flying to Washington D.C. on Monday and I would be going back to Chicago. His flight is leaving an hour after mine this morning. I have a good feeling he’s going to be camped out at Hartsfield while I race from gate to gate at Ohare, trying to figure out a way to Atlanta.
My eyes scan the surrounding area and land on a delicious, blue eyed man heading in my direction. My heart warms and I smile, walking towards him.
“Hi.” I exhale, wrapping my arms around him.
“Hey.” Charlie smiles and kisses me.
“It’s not looking good.” I nodded toward the computer screen.
He nods. “I’ve got plenty of T.V. shows to entertain me on my computer if you get stuck, but you’re getting on so don’t worry.”
We stand there in sleepy silence, watching swarms of people board the plane. I’m searching my brain, trying to come up with plan B.
The plane took off without clearing any stand-bys. We were rolled over to the next flight that was now delayed forty five minutes.
“Ok, if I don’t get home today and have to fly tomorrow, do you want to stay with Kat or my parents?” I ask Charlie.
“Let’s cross that bridge when we get there.” he replies. “I have to go. It’s all going to be fine. You’ll make it today.” he kisses me and heads for his terminal. I walk to the gate where the next flight to Atlanta will be leaving, sit, and stare at the wall. Ah, the adventures of stand-by travel begins.
Eventually, I was back on the train heading for Midway airport. Ohare would be a mess all day. Once there, I waited three hours and was the last person on the plane, landing in Atlanta five hours later than expected, but at least I made it.
Charlie and I spent the afternoon with my parents and the evening with Kat and Gordon. We stayed with them and after a fabulous evening of taking Charlie to some of our favorite places we were asleep at two in the morning.
Like clockwork, my eyes were open at seven. I carefully got out of bed and into my running clothes. “I can’t believe I’m doing this right now…” I think to myself. I don’t remember the last time I had eight hours of sleep and I’m now going to destroy my legs on N. Highland and can’t wait!
I walk outside, turn on my iPOD and take off. The temperature is perfectly chilly but not uncomfortable. The sun is starting to come up and the air smells like breakfast. I listen to slower music but run fast, feeling happy, relaxed and not entirely alone even though the street is empty. There are no cars or people on the street. I remember sometimes feeling this way right after Rob died and I wonder if he’s with me right now.
I used to bug him about running with me on Sunday mornings. I wanted his company. He was having none of that and sometimes I got up and went anyways, bringing him coffee or breakfast on my way home.
Instead of running straight through Freedom Park, I head for Candler Park. I smile to myself remembering how much I loved the streets here and always enjoyed my drive to work. It feels like I never left.
On my way back to Kat and Gordon’s, I stop by San Francisco Coffee to get coffee for Charlie and me. I walk passed the tables that Rob and I sat in by the window and remember one Sunday morning we were here before I had to work and he had me laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe.
I head back with the coffee and carefully walk into the room where Charlie is still asleep. His hand is curled under his chin and he looks so sweet that I don’t move to wake him, just place the coffee on the vanity next to him and tiptoe out.
In the kitchen I stare out the window and suck down my coffee so fast I don’t remember even drinking it. So many times I’d be at this window waiting for Rob to come, so many nights were spent here, opening wine bottles, laughing, eating breakfast or dinner. Everything still looks the same but is completely different.
I can’t move. I think about walking outside to sit on the steps and write, or just sit. I’d like to cry but can’t. I think about a shower but can’t seem to do that either. I just stand there and stare out the window and try to be content with that.
I turn around after hearing something and see Charlie standing in the living room looking half asleep.
“Hi.” I smile, walking towards him to kiss him.
“Hey.” he sits in a reclining chair. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“You’re welcome.” I nod.
“What time did we need to be up?”
“Nine thirty. At least I need to be in the shower then.” I sit on the couch, pulling my knees up to my chest.
“What? I thought it was eight thirty.”
“Nope.” I smile realizing it’s a little after eight thirty now. “Want some orange juice?”
“Sure.”
“Kay, I’ll be back.” I hop up and run out the door and up to Belly where they make the most delicious bagels and have fresh squeezed orange and grapefruit juice. Rob and I both lost our minds over the place. Even though he’s not here, it makes me feel good to still want to do these things for someone else I care so much about.
They were out of orange so I got grapefruit instead. Charlie was on his computer doing some work when I got back. I took a shower and got dressed. Gordon made breakfast for all of us. It was so nice to be with them. I talked to Kat while Charlie got dressed and we were off to church.
I can’t find words to describe how this feels. I was just doing this with Rob last year. I had gone back and forth in my head over asking Charlie to come with me for Easter because I didn’t know how I’d feel. Now I’m so glad he’s hear I can hardly stand it. I don’t want to be without him. Those feelings are confusing as well because I felt that way with Rob too, never wanting to be without him, always so happy to have him right next to me.
In church I’m giggly out of nervousness. Everything seems funny and I wonder if somewhere in my head I’m laughing to keep from either crying or screaming.
After the service we go to my grandmothers for lunch. Charlie is seated to my right, like Rob was and it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world. Everyone tells me later how much they like him.
Charlie is exhausted and I’m still wired from coffee this morning as we drive back to Atlanta. We go back to Kat and Gordon’s to get our things then I drive him around Inman Park to look at the old houses that have lined the streets there for many many years. I take him to the Brickstore in Decatur. I haven’t been since Rob died and it was fabulously calm inside compared to it’s usual insanity. We have a beer, then the electricity goes out. I can feel something bubbling under my skin during all this. I want to talk to Charlie. About what I don’t know, but I feel, sitting at the bar, there is no privacy and constant interruptions.
We decide to leave and go find dinner. I can’t seem to think as I’m driving us around. We end up at Zuma, where we went the night before for sushi. On Easter last year, Rob and I went here and I remember being tipsy telling him I was falling in love with him. How is it that all this is happening again with yet another amazing person? How did we end up at this place on Easter Sunday again? What do I do with all this?
Sushi is delicious and I calm down a little. We drive to mom and dad’s and stay up way too late again. Mom wakes us up at six something and drives us to the airport. Charlie’s flight is leaving before mine and I sit with him at the gate until he has to go.
“I’ll miss you.” he tells me after wrapping me up in a hug.
“I’ll miss you too.” I smile and kiss him then head to my gate. Once again, it doesn’t look like I’ll be going back to Chicago anytime soon. The flight is delayed and full. Great. I don’t have enough energy to be mad though. I call dad.
“What do I do? Do I stay here another day or try to get on this flight?”
“I don’t know. Wait and see what this flight is going to do.” he tells me.
I sigh and stare at the wall. “Ok, I’ll call you if something ridiculous happens.”
“Ok.” I hear him smile.
Minutes later, I’m cleared and we’re boarding. I’m ecstatic but again, have no energy. The weather is bad in Atlanta causing people to be delayed and miss their connections which opened up my flight.
Back in Chicago I take the train home. It’s cold and raining here. I want nothing more than to be wrapped up in Charlie’s arms and be asleep. I fall into my own bed and close my eyes…
At Ohare I stand against the wall at the gate watching my name on the stand-by list get pushed further and further down on the overhead computer screen. Kids are everywhere, crawling around and screaming. I just want to sit on this plane and sleep just a few more hours…
When Charlie and I discussed coming to Atlanta, he decided to purchase a ticket on United. He would be flying to Washington D.C. on Monday and I would be going back to Chicago. His flight is leaving an hour after mine this morning. I have a good feeling he’s going to be camped out at Hartsfield while I race from gate to gate at Ohare, trying to figure out a way to Atlanta.
My eyes scan the surrounding area and land on a delicious, blue eyed man heading in my direction. My heart warms and I smile, walking towards him.
“Hi.” I exhale, wrapping my arms around him.
“Hey.” Charlie smiles and kisses me.
“It’s not looking good.” I nodded toward the computer screen.
He nods. “I’ve got plenty of T.V. shows to entertain me on my computer if you get stuck, but you’re getting on so don’t worry.”
We stand there in sleepy silence, watching swarms of people board the plane. I’m searching my brain, trying to come up with plan B.
The plane took off without clearing any stand-bys. We were rolled over to the next flight that was now delayed forty five minutes.
“Ok, if I don’t get home today and have to fly tomorrow, do you want to stay with Kat or my parents?” I ask Charlie.
“Let’s cross that bridge when we get there.” he replies. “I have to go. It’s all going to be fine. You’ll make it today.” he kisses me and heads for his terminal. I walk to the gate where the next flight to Atlanta will be leaving, sit, and stare at the wall. Ah, the adventures of stand-by travel begins.
Eventually, I was back on the train heading for Midway airport. Ohare would be a mess all day. Once there, I waited three hours and was the last person on the plane, landing in Atlanta five hours later than expected, but at least I made it.
Charlie and I spent the afternoon with my parents and the evening with Kat and Gordon. We stayed with them and after a fabulous evening of taking Charlie to some of our favorite places we were asleep at two in the morning.
Like clockwork, my eyes were open at seven. I carefully got out of bed and into my running clothes. “I can’t believe I’m doing this right now…” I think to myself. I don’t remember the last time I had eight hours of sleep and I’m now going to destroy my legs on N. Highland and can’t wait!
I walk outside, turn on my iPOD and take off. The temperature is perfectly chilly but not uncomfortable. The sun is starting to come up and the air smells like breakfast. I listen to slower music but run fast, feeling happy, relaxed and not entirely alone even though the street is empty. There are no cars or people on the street. I remember sometimes feeling this way right after Rob died and I wonder if he’s with me right now.
I used to bug him about running with me on Sunday mornings. I wanted his company. He was having none of that and sometimes I got up and went anyways, bringing him coffee or breakfast on my way home.
Instead of running straight through Freedom Park, I head for Candler Park. I smile to myself remembering how much I loved the streets here and always enjoyed my drive to work. It feels like I never left.
On my way back to Kat and Gordon’s, I stop by San Francisco Coffee to get coffee for Charlie and me. I walk passed the tables that Rob and I sat in by the window and remember one Sunday morning we were here before I had to work and he had me laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe.
I head back with the coffee and carefully walk into the room where Charlie is still asleep. His hand is curled under his chin and he looks so sweet that I don’t move to wake him, just place the coffee on the vanity next to him and tiptoe out.
In the kitchen I stare out the window and suck down my coffee so fast I don’t remember even drinking it. So many times I’d be at this window waiting for Rob to come, so many nights were spent here, opening wine bottles, laughing, eating breakfast or dinner. Everything still looks the same but is completely different.
I can’t move. I think about walking outside to sit on the steps and write, or just sit. I’d like to cry but can’t. I think about a shower but can’t seem to do that either. I just stand there and stare out the window and try to be content with that.
I turn around after hearing something and see Charlie standing in the living room looking half asleep.
“Hi.” I smile, walking towards him to kiss him.
“Hey.” he sits in a reclining chair. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“You’re welcome.” I nod.
“What time did we need to be up?”
“Nine thirty. At least I need to be in the shower then.” I sit on the couch, pulling my knees up to my chest.
“What? I thought it was eight thirty.”
“Nope.” I smile realizing it’s a little after eight thirty now. “Want some orange juice?”
“Sure.”
“Kay, I’ll be back.” I hop up and run out the door and up to Belly where they make the most delicious bagels and have fresh squeezed orange and grapefruit juice. Rob and I both lost our minds over the place. Even though he’s not here, it makes me feel good to still want to do these things for someone else I care so much about.
They were out of orange so I got grapefruit instead. Charlie was on his computer doing some work when I got back. I took a shower and got dressed. Gordon made breakfast for all of us. It was so nice to be with them. I talked to Kat while Charlie got dressed and we were off to church.
I can’t find words to describe how this feels. I was just doing this with Rob last year. I had gone back and forth in my head over asking Charlie to come with me for Easter because I didn’t know how I’d feel. Now I’m so glad he’s hear I can hardly stand it. I don’t want to be without him. Those feelings are confusing as well because I felt that way with Rob too, never wanting to be without him, always so happy to have him right next to me.
In church I’m giggly out of nervousness. Everything seems funny and I wonder if somewhere in my head I’m laughing to keep from either crying or screaming.
After the service we go to my grandmothers for lunch. Charlie is seated to my right, like Rob was and it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world. Everyone tells me later how much they like him.
Charlie is exhausted and I’m still wired from coffee this morning as we drive back to Atlanta. We go back to Kat and Gordon’s to get our things then I drive him around Inman Park to look at the old houses that have lined the streets there for many many years. I take him to the Brickstore in Decatur. I haven’t been since Rob died and it was fabulously calm inside compared to it’s usual insanity. We have a beer, then the electricity goes out. I can feel something bubbling under my skin during all this. I want to talk to Charlie. About what I don’t know, but I feel, sitting at the bar, there is no privacy and constant interruptions.
We decide to leave and go find dinner. I can’t seem to think as I’m driving us around. We end up at Zuma, where we went the night before for sushi. On Easter last year, Rob and I went here and I remember being tipsy telling him I was falling in love with him. How is it that all this is happening again with yet another amazing person? How did we end up at this place on Easter Sunday again? What do I do with all this?
Sushi is delicious and I calm down a little. We drive to mom and dad’s and stay up way too late again. Mom wakes us up at six something and drives us to the airport. Charlie’s flight is leaving before mine and I sit with him at the gate until he has to go.
“I’ll miss you.” he tells me after wrapping me up in a hug.
“I’ll miss you too.” I smile and kiss him then head to my gate. Once again, it doesn’t look like I’ll be going back to Chicago anytime soon. The flight is delayed and full. Great. I don’t have enough energy to be mad though. I call dad.
“What do I do? Do I stay here another day or try to get on this flight?”
“I don’t know. Wait and see what this flight is going to do.” he tells me.
I sigh and stare at the wall. “Ok, I’ll call you if something ridiculous happens.”
“Ok.” I hear him smile.
Minutes later, I’m cleared and we’re boarding. I’m ecstatic but again, have no energy. The weather is bad in Atlanta causing people to be delayed and miss their connections which opened up my flight.
Back in Chicago I take the train home. It’s cold and raining here. I want nothing more than to be wrapped up in Charlie’s arms and be asleep. I fall into my own bed and close my eyes…
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Relationship...
The sun is out and the air is rather chilly on my walk home with Charlie. It’s almost 10:00 am. My co-worker Alyx is picking me up and we’re headed downtown for a hairshow. My arm is looped through his and neither of us are saying anything until I pipe up, trying not to hyperventilate. “I noticed you called me your girlfriend yesterday when you were entering your time in for work.” (he was using me as an example of his daily occurrences “Walk my girlfriend to work.” Then insert correction… “Walk Melissa to get coffee” …and so on.)
“Yes, you’re a girl and you’re my friend. I corrected myself and called you “Melissa” afterwards.” he replied.
“I noticed that as well.”
“Scott calls you my girlfriend too.”
(Scott is Charlie’s best friend.)
“Really. And do you correct him?” I ask.
“I do.” he said after a slight hesitation. “Hey, are you trying to have the talk with me?”
“I dunno, am I?”
Neither of us say anything else. My heart is going to explode. Did I just screw this up? I imagine this is how Rob felt when he was trying the same thing with me and I changed the subject.
Alyx picks me up a few minutes later as we were standing at my front door. I quickly kiss him goodbye and he tells me he’ll see me later. On our way downtown I tell her about the conversation we just had.
“I’m all freaked out now.” I roll my eyes.
“Don’t be. I doubt he’s thinking about it.” she smiles at me.
Once at the show we lose our minds. We both bought supplies and watched the American Crew stage show twice. (Several of our co-workers and former co-workers put the show together.) There was so much to see and so much…interesting hair, it was overwhelming. Several hours later we were back at my apartment. Alyx dropped me off and I went for a run.
That evening, Charlie fixed us dinner. I told him if I freaked him out this morning, I was sorry.
“You didn’t. It’s not a big deal really.”
“Kay.” I smile.
A few days later he offers to take me to work. We’re at my apartment, him on the phone with a client, me racing around trying to get my work things together when I hear him say, “I need to call you after ten, I’m taking my girlfriend to work.”
I don’t look at him, just keep moving almost pretending like I didn’t hear him. He hangs up and looks at me. “Yeah, I said “girlfriend”.”
I smile and say “I’m happy to be your girlfriend.”
After Rob died people were constantly telling me that I’d find someone else, that everything would be ok. I knew this but wanted time to grieve the loss that just sucked the air out of me. I wanted to get used to the idea that the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life again was gone forever. There aren’t many things that are permanent like this. I remember telling Rob’s mom that the next person I managed to get into a relationship with had some really tall shoes to fill, whoever he was. I felt badly for this unknown person because I didn’t know how it was going to be for him following something like this. Half the time I don’t know what to do with it. How can I expect someone else to?
Charlie though, has handled the whole thing perfectly. He lets me talk and if he’s afraid of my tears, he doesn’t show it. I feel so safe and taken care of when I’m with him.
I asked him a little later if he’d come to Atlanta with me for Easter. He quickly agreed. I dragged my feet on telling my family though. I didn’t want anyone to think for a minute that this new relationship would mean that Rob was gone from my mind or that the grieving process was magically over. I also feared being watched super closely as if people would try and dissect my actions with Charlie and compare them to how I acted with Rob. I am judgmental of that myself. I love playing with Charlie’s hair, I constantly want to tell him how amazing he is, how much I adore him. I want to write him because it’s somehow easier for me to say certain things that way and helps me make sense of stuff I have trouble talking about. I find myself doing these things but being hesitant about it or avoiding it all together because it’s what I did with Rob. I’ve noticed myself sometimes being very quiet with Charlie because I’m afraid once I start talking, I’ll explode and cry and won’t be able to stop. Saying nothing only results in me eventually wanting to pick at him because he’s not reading my mind, and that isn’t acceptable either.
I don’t know where to go from here, what to do, or say half the time. What I do know is that overall, I’m very happy and trying to take all of this, once again, one day at time.
“Yes, you’re a girl and you’re my friend. I corrected myself and called you “Melissa” afterwards.” he replied.
“I noticed that as well.”
“Scott calls you my girlfriend too.”
(Scott is Charlie’s best friend.)
“Really. And do you correct him?” I ask.
“I do.” he said after a slight hesitation. “Hey, are you trying to have the talk with me?”
“I dunno, am I?”
Neither of us say anything else. My heart is going to explode. Did I just screw this up? I imagine this is how Rob felt when he was trying the same thing with me and I changed the subject.
Alyx picks me up a few minutes later as we were standing at my front door. I quickly kiss him goodbye and he tells me he’ll see me later. On our way downtown I tell her about the conversation we just had.
“I’m all freaked out now.” I roll my eyes.
“Don’t be. I doubt he’s thinking about it.” she smiles at me.
Once at the show we lose our minds. We both bought supplies and watched the American Crew stage show twice. (Several of our co-workers and former co-workers put the show together.) There was so much to see and so much…interesting hair, it was overwhelming. Several hours later we were back at my apartment. Alyx dropped me off and I went for a run.
That evening, Charlie fixed us dinner. I told him if I freaked him out this morning, I was sorry.
“You didn’t. It’s not a big deal really.”
“Kay.” I smile.
A few days later he offers to take me to work. We’re at my apartment, him on the phone with a client, me racing around trying to get my work things together when I hear him say, “I need to call you after ten, I’m taking my girlfriend to work.”
I don’t look at him, just keep moving almost pretending like I didn’t hear him. He hangs up and looks at me. “Yeah, I said “girlfriend”.”
I smile and say “I’m happy to be your girlfriend.”
After Rob died people were constantly telling me that I’d find someone else, that everything would be ok. I knew this but wanted time to grieve the loss that just sucked the air out of me. I wanted to get used to the idea that the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life again was gone forever. There aren’t many things that are permanent like this. I remember telling Rob’s mom that the next person I managed to get into a relationship with had some really tall shoes to fill, whoever he was. I felt badly for this unknown person because I didn’t know how it was going to be for him following something like this. Half the time I don’t know what to do with it. How can I expect someone else to?
Charlie though, has handled the whole thing perfectly. He lets me talk and if he’s afraid of my tears, he doesn’t show it. I feel so safe and taken care of when I’m with him.
I asked him a little later if he’d come to Atlanta with me for Easter. He quickly agreed. I dragged my feet on telling my family though. I didn’t want anyone to think for a minute that this new relationship would mean that Rob was gone from my mind or that the grieving process was magically over. I also feared being watched super closely as if people would try and dissect my actions with Charlie and compare them to how I acted with Rob. I am judgmental of that myself. I love playing with Charlie’s hair, I constantly want to tell him how amazing he is, how much I adore him. I want to write him because it’s somehow easier for me to say certain things that way and helps me make sense of stuff I have trouble talking about. I find myself doing these things but being hesitant about it or avoiding it all together because it’s what I did with Rob. I’ve noticed myself sometimes being very quiet with Charlie because I’m afraid once I start talking, I’ll explode and cry and won’t be able to stop. Saying nothing only results in me eventually wanting to pick at him because he’s not reading my mind, and that isn’t acceptable either.
I don’t know where to go from here, what to do, or say half the time. What I do know is that overall, I’m very happy and trying to take all of this, once again, one day at time.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Lovin'...
I woke up on Monday trying to mentally prepare for a twelve hour day in class. Charlie and I shared coffee and breakfast, then I was off. Everything that was happening today was going to be fun and interesting, it was just going to be long.
I don’t know if it was the caffeine or what but I was losing my mind in the middle of everything. Mel was showing me how to do a particular haircut and I was concentrating so hard I thought I might explode. I’m trying to absorb her every word, to do this as perfectly as possible while paying attention to not making the mistakes she tells me are common. When she’s done explaining, I’m on my own and am happy with what I did, but it still needs work.
Switching gears a couple of hours later, my male model cancels for men’s class and I go out to find another. When that doesn’t happen, I watch a demo on the haircut I’m working on, ask questions and try to again, absorb everything. I feel I’m going at a hundred miles an hour with no sign of slowing down. It’s like I’m afraid to because I’m running from something at the moment and work is giving me something else to focus on.
After men’s class we’re all heading to our Lincoln Park salon for a hairshow that some graduating assistants are putting on. I walk with my co-worker Alyx down North Ave in search of the bus. She asks how everything is going and I tell her how class is going well, I’m happy with Charlie but grief is sneaking up on me again and I don’t know how to talk about it or what to do with it.
“I keep having these random memories pop up outta no where.” I tell her. “They’re happening at the most inappropriate times and I don’t know what to do with them or where they’re coming from.”
“What sort of memories?” she asks.
“Hmm… like an image of Rob and me at dinner will pop up, or I’ll remember something he said, or an expression on his face I liked will come up. Sometimes images of his funeral will appear, I never know what it’ll be. It’s all these tiny little things. I don’t know what sparks them.”
“I think that’s normal I also think it’s because you still need him in some way or another.” she says without looking at me.
I nod, trying to wrap my mind around it. Of course I do. He left me here but in a way, I believe he’s still around. He’s the one that makes me get up in the morning when I don’t want to. He’s the one that moves my pen across the paper, that fuels my legs to make them run. He puts the smile on my face when I’d rather cry. He pushes me to take better care of myself, to say what’s in my head, to be decisive, and his former presence here and elsewhere has opened my heart to receive the love of another person.
Alyx and I are quiet after that and minutes later the bus is behind us. We get to Lincoln Park early and sit in the break room laughing with our other co-workers so hard my stomach hurt. I’m reminded again of how happy I am to be here not only at Art+Science but in Chicago as well.
The show the girls put on was fabulous and had me wondering how much time went into it and how they got everything to come together so perfectly. At the end of our training program, we’ll all be doing the same thing. For me, that’s too much to think about right now.
When everything is over Alyx and I head to a bar next door. Charlie is on his way to pick me up and Alyx’s boyfriend is also on his way. We’re there a few minutes when my phone beeps with a text from Charlie saying he’s out front. I hug her goodbye and race outside to jump in his car, so happy to see him I can barely form words. I just want to calm down.
“Thanks for coming to get me.” I smile at him.
“Of course.” he nods.
In my head I had gone back and forth between wanting to ask him to go out for drinks and just staying home. At this point I was fine either way. As I was about to ask he piped up and said “ I want a martini. Do you mind if we stop at the store?”
“Not at all. I was going to ask you if you wanted to get drinks tonight.” I smile.
We both admit that neither of us are in great moods and get to the store rather quickly.
“I was thinking about making some muffins for breakfast tomorrow.” he says as we’re wandering.
“That would be fabulous.”
We find the muffin mix, alcohol and a few other things before checking out and heading home.
Once settled in the kitchen he makes the martinis, carefully garnishing my sweet one with fruit and his “dirty” one with olives after turning off the light and lighting a candle. For the first time all day I sit back and exhale.
It doesn’t take long for martini number one to be consumed. I’m on the edge of wanting another and saying no because I’m interested in functioning tomorrow. When he asks I find myself saying yes though thinking I’m fine an will be fine.
As I float into comfortable drunkenness I talk his ear off. Wine appears on the table and is consumed by both of us. I watch him get up and put together the batter for the muffins and bake them. I have no concept of time, or what it is I’m saying at this point. When he sits down with me again, I look at his eyes and notice that everything around me is spinning. Oops. Too. Much. Alcohol. Why did I do this? It always sounds like a good idea at the time.
“Darlin’. The room is spinning.” I grin.
“Uh oh. Hang on.” he gets up and pours a glass of water. “Drink this.”
I do and he looks at my hands. “We need to get your lotion on.”
I went to the doctor for my dermatitis a few weeks ago. If it weren’t for Charlie applying the medicated cream to my busted skin I’d have no fingers left. I’m embarrassed to admit that sometimes, on some level or another I almost enjoy the pain in my hands because it gives me something else to focus on rather than deal with what’s in my head. I’d like to deal with my head but I don’t know how so until then, I’m going to let my hands crack and bleed and maybe eat a cookie or several until I can figure it out. Of course doing these things pulls me farther away from figuring it out but I’ll get tired of this game eventually…
I’m trying to breathe while watching Charlie’s warm hands spread the thin cream over my fingers. The room is still spinning. I hate this feeling. I drink more water while he works on the other hand.
“Ok. You’re all set. Lets get you to bed.” he says, screwing the top back on the cream.
I nod, carefully stand, walk into his room, and fall into bed.
The next morning I’m so deeply saddened I don’t want to move. My head doesn’t hurt but I’m moving slowly. This is why I don’t drink. There is always a chance that I’m going to be eaten up with grief the next morning. There is no pinpointing what it is or what it feels like but really deep sadness that I don’t know what to do with and can’t explain which eventually makes me angry.
Charlie makes coffee and breakfast. I don’t have to be at work until one. He’s on and off the computer, washing dishes etc…while I’m still immobile at the table. He’s talking and walks into the living room where I can’t hear him. I stand up and follow him as he adjusts the music that’s playing. He walks toward me, heading for the kitchen again and I wrap my arms around him and hug him. His arms wrap around me and pull me further into him. I breathe him in, listening to his heart beat and press my palms into his back. Neither of us say a word as we rub each other’s backs. My eyes fill up with tears and before I can stop them, they’re overflowing and I’m shaking.
“Hey.” Charlie’s quiet voice vibrates against my ear. “ Hey, what’s going on?” he asks gently.
I don’t know. I can’t speak, just keep crying. His hand finds the back of my head and rubs it while I hang on tighter to him.
“C’mere. Let me rub your back.” he says leading me to his room. I lay down on my stomach while he rubs the tightened muscles. My tears stop and start and stop again.
After a while he stops and tells me to run home, get ready for work and come back for lunch. “Kay.” I smile, get my things and go home where I stand under a scalding spray of water for an eternity before realizing that I need to get moving. I get dressed, put on make-up, get my work things in order and walk back to Charlie’s feeling somewhat human again.
Lunch is ready when I get there and he kisses me hello. We’re quiet when we sit down and I watch him for a minute trying to speak without crying again.
“I am…” I start, still struggling to get this out. “…the luckiest person on this planet to have you.”
He smiled and said, “I’m glad to have you too.”
I don’t know if it was the caffeine or what but I was losing my mind in the middle of everything. Mel was showing me how to do a particular haircut and I was concentrating so hard I thought I might explode. I’m trying to absorb her every word, to do this as perfectly as possible while paying attention to not making the mistakes she tells me are common. When she’s done explaining, I’m on my own and am happy with what I did, but it still needs work.
Switching gears a couple of hours later, my male model cancels for men’s class and I go out to find another. When that doesn’t happen, I watch a demo on the haircut I’m working on, ask questions and try to again, absorb everything. I feel I’m going at a hundred miles an hour with no sign of slowing down. It’s like I’m afraid to because I’m running from something at the moment and work is giving me something else to focus on.
After men’s class we’re all heading to our Lincoln Park salon for a hairshow that some graduating assistants are putting on. I walk with my co-worker Alyx down North Ave in search of the bus. She asks how everything is going and I tell her how class is going well, I’m happy with Charlie but grief is sneaking up on me again and I don’t know how to talk about it or what to do with it.
“I keep having these random memories pop up outta no where.” I tell her. “They’re happening at the most inappropriate times and I don’t know what to do with them or where they’re coming from.”
“What sort of memories?” she asks.
“Hmm… like an image of Rob and me at dinner will pop up, or I’ll remember something he said, or an expression on his face I liked will come up. Sometimes images of his funeral will appear, I never know what it’ll be. It’s all these tiny little things. I don’t know what sparks them.”
“I think that’s normal I also think it’s because you still need him in some way or another.” she says without looking at me.
I nod, trying to wrap my mind around it. Of course I do. He left me here but in a way, I believe he’s still around. He’s the one that makes me get up in the morning when I don’t want to. He’s the one that moves my pen across the paper, that fuels my legs to make them run. He puts the smile on my face when I’d rather cry. He pushes me to take better care of myself, to say what’s in my head, to be decisive, and his former presence here and elsewhere has opened my heart to receive the love of another person.
Alyx and I are quiet after that and minutes later the bus is behind us. We get to Lincoln Park early and sit in the break room laughing with our other co-workers so hard my stomach hurt. I’m reminded again of how happy I am to be here not only at Art+Science but in Chicago as well.
The show the girls put on was fabulous and had me wondering how much time went into it and how they got everything to come together so perfectly. At the end of our training program, we’ll all be doing the same thing. For me, that’s too much to think about right now.
When everything is over Alyx and I head to a bar next door. Charlie is on his way to pick me up and Alyx’s boyfriend is also on his way. We’re there a few minutes when my phone beeps with a text from Charlie saying he’s out front. I hug her goodbye and race outside to jump in his car, so happy to see him I can barely form words. I just want to calm down.
“Thanks for coming to get me.” I smile at him.
“Of course.” he nods.
In my head I had gone back and forth between wanting to ask him to go out for drinks and just staying home. At this point I was fine either way. As I was about to ask he piped up and said “ I want a martini. Do you mind if we stop at the store?”
“Not at all. I was going to ask you if you wanted to get drinks tonight.” I smile.
We both admit that neither of us are in great moods and get to the store rather quickly.
“I was thinking about making some muffins for breakfast tomorrow.” he says as we’re wandering.
“That would be fabulous.”
We find the muffin mix, alcohol and a few other things before checking out and heading home.
Once settled in the kitchen he makes the martinis, carefully garnishing my sweet one with fruit and his “dirty” one with olives after turning off the light and lighting a candle. For the first time all day I sit back and exhale.
It doesn’t take long for martini number one to be consumed. I’m on the edge of wanting another and saying no because I’m interested in functioning tomorrow. When he asks I find myself saying yes though thinking I’m fine an will be fine.
As I float into comfortable drunkenness I talk his ear off. Wine appears on the table and is consumed by both of us. I watch him get up and put together the batter for the muffins and bake them. I have no concept of time, or what it is I’m saying at this point. When he sits down with me again, I look at his eyes and notice that everything around me is spinning. Oops. Too. Much. Alcohol. Why did I do this? It always sounds like a good idea at the time.
“Darlin’. The room is spinning.” I grin.
“Uh oh. Hang on.” he gets up and pours a glass of water. “Drink this.”
I do and he looks at my hands. “We need to get your lotion on.”
I went to the doctor for my dermatitis a few weeks ago. If it weren’t for Charlie applying the medicated cream to my busted skin I’d have no fingers left. I’m embarrassed to admit that sometimes, on some level or another I almost enjoy the pain in my hands because it gives me something else to focus on rather than deal with what’s in my head. I’d like to deal with my head but I don’t know how so until then, I’m going to let my hands crack and bleed and maybe eat a cookie or several until I can figure it out. Of course doing these things pulls me farther away from figuring it out but I’ll get tired of this game eventually…
I’m trying to breathe while watching Charlie’s warm hands spread the thin cream over my fingers. The room is still spinning. I hate this feeling. I drink more water while he works on the other hand.
“Ok. You’re all set. Lets get you to bed.” he says, screwing the top back on the cream.
I nod, carefully stand, walk into his room, and fall into bed.
The next morning I’m so deeply saddened I don’t want to move. My head doesn’t hurt but I’m moving slowly. This is why I don’t drink. There is always a chance that I’m going to be eaten up with grief the next morning. There is no pinpointing what it is or what it feels like but really deep sadness that I don’t know what to do with and can’t explain which eventually makes me angry.
Charlie makes coffee and breakfast. I don’t have to be at work until one. He’s on and off the computer, washing dishes etc…while I’m still immobile at the table. He’s talking and walks into the living room where I can’t hear him. I stand up and follow him as he adjusts the music that’s playing. He walks toward me, heading for the kitchen again and I wrap my arms around him and hug him. His arms wrap around me and pull me further into him. I breathe him in, listening to his heart beat and press my palms into his back. Neither of us say a word as we rub each other’s backs. My eyes fill up with tears and before I can stop them, they’re overflowing and I’m shaking.
“Hey.” Charlie’s quiet voice vibrates against my ear. “ Hey, what’s going on?” he asks gently.
I don’t know. I can’t speak, just keep crying. His hand finds the back of my head and rubs it while I hang on tighter to him.
“C’mere. Let me rub your back.” he says leading me to his room. I lay down on my stomach while he rubs the tightened muscles. My tears stop and start and stop again.
After a while he stops and tells me to run home, get ready for work and come back for lunch. “Kay.” I smile, get my things and go home where I stand under a scalding spray of water for an eternity before realizing that I need to get moving. I get dressed, put on make-up, get my work things in order and walk back to Charlie’s feeling somewhat human again.
Lunch is ready when I get there and he kisses me hello. We’re quiet when we sit down and I watch him for a minute trying to speak without crying again.
“I am…” I start, still struggling to get this out. “…the luckiest person on this planet to have you.”
He smiled and said, “I’m glad to have you too.”
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