Hello, I Dislike You Intensely. Have a Nice Day.
Entry #40.
Went to the hospital today to see Marina and apologize. She wouldn't take it. "I don't think there's anything anyone could've done," she said, her voice sounding hoarse but oddly serene. "Maybe they could have delayed it. But not stopped it. I was feeling it for a long time, like something was going to break."
"What do you mean?" I knew what she meant. I just wanted to deny it.
"Like, I have this theory about how animals know from the beginning how and when they're going to die. That's why they're so carefree, because they're already at terms with it. But it doesn't matter what humans know, we'll always find a way to be unhappy."
I did not like the analogy, even though it only made partial sense. I told her I was sorry for everything.
"No," she said. "I needed this. I needed all the crazy shit that happened to me to happen to me. It's all part of something bigger. Some grand scheme."
I suggested that maybe horrible things just happened sometimes for no reason; that maybe concentrated pockets of misfortune and pain randomly appeared and disappeared throughout the universe, not caring who happened to walk through them or pass near them. "How can you be so peaceful and philosophical?" I asked. I told her I wouldn't have been able to stop crying if I were her.
"They gave me a lot of drugs," she said. "But more than that, everything's been changed."
I left the hospital feeling inspired, yet deflated, directionless. Restless, too.
Eventually I found my way to Alex's again. We sat on his back steps, passing an old-school glass bottle of blue-raspberry soda back and forth like we were playing a drinking game. It was getting cold out, too cold for shorts and flip-flops. "So...why did you lie about...you know?" I asked him. My voice embarrassed me and I felt so tacky for bringing it up even though it was a genuinely good question. I looked away from him, half gazing at the washed-out sunset and half only pretending to gaze.
"I guess I was scared you wouldn't take me," he finally said. "That you'd think I was only asking you out to get back at her or to fill up the space she left. Which I wasn't."
"Oh...I guess I can understand that," I said grudgingly. "It doesn't make things easier, though."
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm pretty inexperienced with this stuff, in case you couldn't tell."
"Me too. It's okay, though. We're okay. Right?" I craved to hear the reassurance.
"Definitely," Alex said, not letting me down, and my spine straightened a little hearing him sound so sure. We finished our soda.
"Anything else you need to tell me?" I asked, trying not to be nervous of the answer.
He opened his mouth, but the words he needed hadn't yet floated to the surface. I waited, my eyes fixed on his face that was fast fading in the shadows of late dusk; my rods and cones straining to catch any signal. Just then, however, the front door slammed and a voice called out, "You guys'll never believe what I bought for dinner!" The moment fragmented and dissipated into the air above our heads. He no longer had to answer my question, and I could have cried at this injustice. "Come on, let's go see what it is," he said, and headed back inside the house. I stayed outside for a few seconds more, breathing in early evening; lights coming on in neighboring windows. Feeling lonely, yet full.
Chester had brought Indian curry for us all, and while I ate, I thought about how odd it was that Alex lived with his uncle and aunt. It had never occurred to me to want to know why, but suddenly I did.
Lying in his bed later, I was burning with the question - I just didn't know how to ask it. He was sitting at the foot of the bed, and in the half-light, half-darkness he seemed to me the end of a long road.
"Dani," Alex said. The word came out sad and languid and monumental, like an arm of the Milky Way as it stretched through the night sky. "There are some things I will take to my grave."
I didn't how what to say to that, how to feel.
"I'm sorry."
"I wish you'd stop saying that, Alex."
"Oh, Dani."
"I trusted you with my secrets before I even knew you."
"But to be fair, you never actually thought anyone would find your entries."
He was lying next to me in the bed now. My hands felt numb as I touched the thin fabric of his shirt, then the thin skin of his stomach underneath.
"Can you forgive me? For my secrets?"
His chest, his back, his shoulderblades. Fingertips under the waist of his pants...My tongue felt heavy. My heart, betrayed. My bones noisy as I got out of the bed and left.
I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have felt that he loved his secrets more than he did me, but I couldn't help it. It fucking hurt and for a second I hated him - he was the one who'd said how strong we were, yet he still kept his stubborn stupid secrets; why couldn't he get over himself? The cold autumn air hit my face as I let myself out, and I expected to feel tears of sadness or anger, but there were none. Just a deep hurt in an unspecified place at the center of me, as wide as a galaxy and as deep as the night sky.
"What do you mean?" I knew what she meant. I just wanted to deny it.
"Like, I have this theory about how animals know from the beginning how and when they're going to die. That's why they're so carefree, because they're already at terms with it. But it doesn't matter what humans know, we'll always find a way to be unhappy."
I did not like the analogy, even though it only made partial sense. I told her I was sorry for everything.
"No," she said. "I needed this. I needed all the crazy shit that happened to me to happen to me. It's all part of something bigger. Some grand scheme."
I suggested that maybe horrible things just happened sometimes for no reason; that maybe concentrated pockets of misfortune and pain randomly appeared and disappeared throughout the universe, not caring who happened to walk through them or pass near them. "How can you be so peaceful and philosophical?" I asked. I told her I wouldn't have been able to stop crying if I were her.
"They gave me a lot of drugs," she said. "But more than that, everything's been changed."
I left the hospital feeling inspired, yet deflated, directionless. Restless, too.
Eventually I found my way to Alex's again. We sat on his back steps, passing an old-school glass bottle of blue-raspberry soda back and forth like we were playing a drinking game. It was getting cold out, too cold for shorts and flip-flops. "So...why did you lie about...you know?" I asked him. My voice embarrassed me and I felt so tacky for bringing it up even though it was a genuinely good question. I looked away from him, half gazing at the washed-out sunset and half only pretending to gaze.
"I guess I was scared you wouldn't take me," he finally said. "That you'd think I was only asking you out to get back at her or to fill up the space she left. Which I wasn't."
"Oh...I guess I can understand that," I said grudgingly. "It doesn't make things easier, though."
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm pretty inexperienced with this stuff, in case you couldn't tell."
"Me too. It's okay, though. We're okay. Right?" I craved to hear the reassurance.
"Definitely," Alex said, not letting me down, and my spine straightened a little hearing him sound so sure. We finished our soda.
"Anything else you need to tell me?" I asked, trying not to be nervous of the answer.
He opened his mouth, but the words he needed hadn't yet floated to the surface. I waited, my eyes fixed on his face that was fast fading in the shadows of late dusk; my rods and cones straining to catch any signal. Just then, however, the front door slammed and a voice called out, "You guys'll never believe what I bought for dinner!" The moment fragmented and dissipated into the air above our heads. He no longer had to answer my question, and I could have cried at this injustice. "Come on, let's go see what it is," he said, and headed back inside the house. I stayed outside for a few seconds more, breathing in early evening; lights coming on in neighboring windows. Feeling lonely, yet full.
Chester had brought Indian curry for us all, and while I ate, I thought about how odd it was that Alex lived with his uncle and aunt. It had never occurred to me to want to know why, but suddenly I did.
Lying in his bed later, I was burning with the question - I just didn't know how to ask it. He was sitting at the foot of the bed, and in the half-light, half-darkness he seemed to me the end of a long road.
"Dani," Alex said. The word came out sad and languid and monumental, like an arm of the Milky Way as it stretched through the night sky. "There are some things I will take to my grave."
I didn't how what to say to that, how to feel.
"I'm sorry."
"I wish you'd stop saying that, Alex."
"Oh, Dani."
"I trusted you with my secrets before I even knew you."
"But to be fair, you never actually thought anyone would find your entries."
He was lying next to me in the bed now. My hands felt numb as I touched the thin fabric of his shirt, then the thin skin of his stomach underneath.
"Can you forgive me? For my secrets?"
His chest, his back, his shoulderblades. Fingertips under the waist of his pants...My tongue felt heavy. My heart, betrayed. My bones noisy as I got out of the bed and left.
I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have felt that he loved his secrets more than he did me, but I couldn't help it. It fucking hurt and for a second I hated him - he was the one who'd said how strong we were, yet he still kept his stubborn stupid secrets; why couldn't he get over himself? The cold autumn air hit my face as I let myself out, and I expected to feel tears of sadness or anger, but there were none. Just a deep hurt in an unspecified place at the center of me, as wide as a galaxy and as deep as the night sky.