Status: Updating while working on rewriting the earlier chapters (and deleting some stuff).
Infinite
Thirty-six
“So, you guys made up?”
Pete and I are having coffee on the 27th of December. He’s supposed to be with family but had to take care of something in New York, and called me during a short break in his schedule.
“I guess we did. In a way.”
These last few days have been confusing. Am I happy that I’m on speaking terms with Gerard again, or sad because now I have to see him now and then and pretend that everything’s fine, even though it’s not? Knowing that you have to leave something behind and move on with your life is apparently at good thing, but it’s not pleasant.
“Why do you think people kept telling me that we had something?” I ask.
“Probably because you do have something,” is Pete’s reply, and I sigh.
“It’s not like we’re getting back together,” I say. “There is a slight possibility that we might be friends someday, but now…”
“But you’re still in love with him, right?”
“Yeah. But I don’t know if…"
“Have you told him?”
“Why would I tell him?” I ask, and carry on when Pete doesn’t say anything: “I just have to move on. It’s like I haven’t seen it clearly before and now it’s like… I don’t know, like an epiphany.”
“You mean ’sudden realization of great truth’?” Pete says, quoting The Simpsons Movie and making me smile.
“Something like that.”
Pete looks at me for a few seconds, and then says:
“Well… Some things are not meant to be, I guess.”
I can’t come up with anything to say to that. Because maybe he’s right.
December turns into January and I spend New Year’s Eve with the band, celebrating that we’re off to Los Angeles on the fifth. After spending three days mostly recovering from the party, having some last-minute rehearsal and going shopping, Karl and I spend the last day before leaving at home, packing and relaxing. After creating a blog post on our MySpace page as well as accepting some friend requests, there really is nothing to do other than ignoring the fact that we need to clean the flat before leaving it for two months. My bags are packed and the laundry is done. Karl goes out to fetch our take-away dinner.
Oh. Dishes. Wonderful.
This is what happens when you ignore the state of your kitchen sink for too long – you end up having to do the dishes for half an hour, and you may cut your hand on a grater hiding in the murky water.
After jumping around the kitchen for a while, cursing the grater and the stupid dishes in general, I’ve located the band-aids and my left knuckle is as good as new. It would have been a bit disastrous if I’d cut my finger instead, the day before going on tour. I decide not to endanger myself further and leave the rest of the mountain of dirty plates to its destiny.
The arrival of a text message is announced by the sound of Kim Possible’s communicator sound. And it’s funny how you can be perfectly fine one minute, doing the dishes, and in the next wonder what the hell happened.
Hey, heard ur going on tour tomorrow. Hope you’ll have a great time. Feel free to call me if u ever wanna talk or something. Friends? /G
Yeah, right. Because friendships an ex-lovers is such a perfect combination. It always works. I compose my answer during the ride to the airport.
friends :) good to hear from you. Im leaving 4 LA in 2 hours. Looking forward to two months on the road. Hugs/A
I know I shouldn’t tell him that we’re friends. I know I shouldn’t add the smiley. I know texting is probably the worst way of communicating ever invented – it’s a breeding ground for misinterpretations.
That’s why I hurry to send the message before I’ve had any time to think about it.
Pete and I are having coffee on the 27th of December. He’s supposed to be with family but had to take care of something in New York, and called me during a short break in his schedule.
“I guess we did. In a way.”
These last few days have been confusing. Am I happy that I’m on speaking terms with Gerard again, or sad because now I have to see him now and then and pretend that everything’s fine, even though it’s not? Knowing that you have to leave something behind and move on with your life is apparently at good thing, but it’s not pleasant.
“Why do you think people kept telling me that we had something?” I ask.
“Probably because you do have something,” is Pete’s reply, and I sigh.
“It’s not like we’re getting back together,” I say. “There is a slight possibility that we might be friends someday, but now…”
“But you’re still in love with him, right?”
“Yeah. But I don’t know if…"
“Have you told him?”
“Why would I tell him?” I ask, and carry on when Pete doesn’t say anything: “I just have to move on. It’s like I haven’t seen it clearly before and now it’s like… I don’t know, like an epiphany.”
“You mean ’sudden realization of great truth’?” Pete says, quoting The Simpsons Movie and making me smile.
“Something like that.”
Pete looks at me for a few seconds, and then says:
“Well… Some things are not meant to be, I guess.”
I can’t come up with anything to say to that. Because maybe he’s right.
December turns into January and I spend New Year’s Eve with the band, celebrating that we’re off to Los Angeles on the fifth. After spending three days mostly recovering from the party, having some last-minute rehearsal and going shopping, Karl and I spend the last day before leaving at home, packing and relaxing. After creating a blog post on our MySpace page as well as accepting some friend requests, there really is nothing to do other than ignoring the fact that we need to clean the flat before leaving it for two months. My bags are packed and the laundry is done. Karl goes out to fetch our take-away dinner.
Oh. Dishes. Wonderful.
This is what happens when you ignore the state of your kitchen sink for too long – you end up having to do the dishes for half an hour, and you may cut your hand on a grater hiding in the murky water.
After jumping around the kitchen for a while, cursing the grater and the stupid dishes in general, I’ve located the band-aids and my left knuckle is as good as new. It would have been a bit disastrous if I’d cut my finger instead, the day before going on tour. I decide not to endanger myself further and leave the rest of the mountain of dirty plates to its destiny.
The arrival of a text message is announced by the sound of Kim Possible’s communicator sound. And it’s funny how you can be perfectly fine one minute, doing the dishes, and in the next wonder what the hell happened.
Hey, heard ur going on tour tomorrow. Hope you’ll have a great time. Feel free to call me if u ever wanna talk or something. Friends? /G
Yeah, right. Because friendships an ex-lovers is such a perfect combination. It always works. I compose my answer during the ride to the airport.
friends :) good to hear from you. Im leaving 4 LA in 2 hours. Looking forward to two months on the road. Hugs/A
I know I shouldn’t tell him that we’re friends. I know I shouldn’t add the smiley. I know texting is probably the worst way of communicating ever invented – it’s a breeding ground for misinterpretations.
That’s why I hurry to send the message before I’ve had any time to think about it.