Bourbon and Ray-Bans

I called it off with Jason a couple of weeks into March. It wasn’t fair to him to continue a relationship that wasn’t going anywhere and that I wasn’t really feeling. I had taken to ending our evenings early and going home to my own loft to curl up with Trix and watch cheesy 90s movies. There were also phone calls from Norman which often lasted into the wee hours of the morning. I hadn’t had that kind of relationship with someone since my best friend, Tori, and I had stayed up giggling about boys all night long during our middle school summers. I learned a lot about him during those endless hours, about his past and his family, his relationship with Helena and his hopes for Mingus.

Turns out, Norman had been dating a girl who he’d met on the set of a film he had worked on a few years ago. They had reconnected and spent some time together while she was in New York working on a book she was writing. When she had returned to her native France they had parted ways amicably. The way our lives worked, we really didn’t have much room for developing relationships. I was amazed at how well Andy and his wife made things work, but I still knew it was hard on them.

Sitting at my dining room table tinkering around on the internet, I looked up at the large painting that had been my birthday present from the Reedus boys. It was Norm’s visualization of my ‘happy place’. During one of our first conversations sitting in his trailer during the season one finale, we’d talked about what we imaged our perfect heaven to look like. He’d remembered and spent several months doing his best to capture at least the essence of what I had talked about. Mingus had helped him choose the colors since he was studying that in school. Both boys had signed the corner. I loved it so much.

On an impulse, I picked up my phone and dialed his cell. He answered on the third ring.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hey, you gotta minute.” I winced at the slight tremble in my voice.

“Of course. You okay? Is something wrong?” He’d heard the tremble.

“Yeah, fine. Um, I just wanted to ask a favor. You can say no. No obligation. I was thinking of spending the weekend in New York and thought maybe I could stay with you. Only as long as I wouldn’t be intruding, though.” I had spoken so quickly who knows if he had deciphered what I meant.

“You’re always, always welcome here, B. No matter what. So get your pretty little ass on a plane, already. I’ve got no plans. You’ll be my plans.” We disconnected and I grabbed my laptop to book my flight. I wanted to get on a plane immediately and run to him. My head was screaming at me not to do that. To not go at all. What was this about? What was I thinking? What did I want?

Him. Of course I wanted him. He was all I’d wanted for months. And if he didn’t want me in that way which I assumed, at least I could spend time with him, be close to him, be his friend. I’d make it my mission to spend the weekend with him, but start disconnecting myself from my feelings so I could move on. So the next time a Jason entered my life I’d actually be able to give him half a chance.

I looked back at his painting. I wondered how many other women in the world had similar paintings that greeted them every morning from the same man I couldn’t stop thinking about. He’d had so many women. I knew that without him telling me. He spoke about several of them. The ones he’d felt things for - the ones he’d loved.

My own romantic past had been mostly quiet. I’d dated a guy for about five years during my early twenties. I’d been a late bloomer, avoiding boys on purpose as a teenager after watching my friends cry over stupid guys doing shitty things to do. I hadn’t thought the tears were worth it.

In college, I mostly got horny and desperately sought a way to relieve that frustration without sleeping with random guys. Travis had arrived at the right time and been exactly what I’d needed for a long while. But I’d never loved him in the way I’d ultimately hoped to love someone. The last couple years our relationship had mostly been comfortable boredom until I broke it off with him on our 5 year anniversary. Every guy since had mostly just been passing the time. I wasn’t the kind of girl who fantasized or even necessarily wanted marriage. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to fall in love. For real. In a messily destructive, crazy powerful kind of way. At least once.

I could be really shitty and heartless when it came to relationships. Intense emotion made me freeze up. Towards friends I could be openly affection, but throw genuine feeling into the mix or sexual attraction and I just became this awkwardly shy person who came off as a cold bitch. I was starting to head that way with Norman. There were so many times when I had closed myself off to him. Avoided him. Snapped at him. For no reason other than I was terrified and had no clue what to do with myself.

I wanted someone to want me enough to fight through those walls which was ridiculously unfair of me to ask anyone to even try.

Trix ambled over and put her head in my lap. She knew I wasn’t in the best head space. She whined and licked my hand. I scratched her behind the ears. Maybe l should just throw in the towel and be content in my single life with my hella cool dog. Me and Trix against the world. A girl could find happiness in that. It required a lot less shaving.

Feeling a little better, I paid for my ticket to NYC. I’d leave Thursday morning and not tell Norman. Give myself a day and a night to just do the me thing. Show up at his apartment Friday morning with breakfast and surprise him. That, of course, could be dangerous. Who knew who he’d have in his bed, but I was working on not caring about that.