Five days before she left, I drove six hours to pick her up
from the train station in Poughkeepsie. While I was waiting for her arrival
from the city, I found a vending machine and put in three quarters, two dimes,
and five pennies - I hadn’t eaten yet that day. After I pressed the buttons for
what I thought would give me those little fruity Chuckles that come all lined
up so neatly in their package, the oversized corkscrew holding the potato chips
started turning instead. (Sigh) At least
they’re gluten free, I thought. Just as I convinced my pallet that salty
would have to do, I watched the bag get stuck and dangle there, out of my
reach. Fuck Poughkeepsie. While I was
trying to decide how much was I really willing to pound my fist on the glass and
try to tip over that machine, the potato chip corkscrew started twisting again
– it was a week-between-Christmas-and-New-Years miracle. Gravity took hold of
the bag of chips and it fell down to where I could reach it, followed closely
by a second bag – two for the price of one for me, one for her. Thanks Poughkeepsie.
Once she was safe and in my car, we kissed, and then she
directed me to the nearest Stop & Shop with her hand on my knee. I
self-checked-out my gluten free bread and pretzels, but she bought something
too. At her checkout stand, I heard the computer voice say, “Please place your
single majestic rose in the bagging area”. She always thinks of me.
Four days before she left, we stayed in bed for way too
long. I got my thumb through a hole in her sheets and accidentally tore it into
a much bigger hole. We stayed up late that night, watching The Witches and playing a game of “Monopoly” that everyone swore
we’d finish no matter how long it took or how bored we got. She was the first
one to declare bankruptcy. I was the second. We sat on her parents’ bed and
watched as the remaining two players half-heartedly finished the game.
Three days before she left, her family friends came to
visit. While we were playing “Balderdash”, I heard her parents talking with them
in the other room. I caught the words “and Marguerite’s friend Kelley is here
too” escaping her mothers lips and cringed. My parents do this too. Maybe their
friends aren’t big Ellen Degeneres fans – maybe they voted for Romney. She
didn’t hear them talking – she was too caught up in making up a definition for
“zumbooruk”. I shook it off for
the moment and did the same. When we finished our game, we all stood up and
cleared the table for dinner. She walked over and kissed me on the mouth in
front of her parents and her friends. No
homo, I thought.
Two days before she left, she stuck secret puffy peppermints
into my pockets, saying, “it’s because you’re sweet – and also, here’s a
tootsie pop”. She was enamored with the amount of chocolate that she had been
given over the holidays, like it was magical, and no sooner than the words “I
think I have too much chocolate!” left her lips, she threw back her head and laughed
at the absurdity of that statement. You’ll always know she’s here when there’s
chocolate around. I’m more one for Chuckles, gummy bears, lollipops, the orange
candy fruit slices, black licorice jellybeans, and peppermints. She buys me
these when she goes out shopping – I always know I’m getting a surprise when
she gets home.
The day before she left went by way too fast, as all days
with her do. We sat next to each other in the back seat of her parents’ car
while the four of us drove into town to do errands. We stopped at a café and
ate soup – maybe the best soup I’ve ever had – but the soup didn’t make me as
warm as she usually does. We finished watching the last few episodes of Lost and ate steak as a family at the
dining room table. It was New Year’s Eve but I felt like it was Thanksgiving.
She was starting to tune out completely – it started when we woke up that
morning. At 11:55, we all gathered in the living room, holding glasses that in
turn held champagne. Her brother said that New Year’s is a hoax; that it’s just
a silly reason that’s been made up so that we can feel like we’re starting over
every once in a while. But starting fresh isn’t so bad. We flipped on the
television to watch the ball drop in her old hometown of Manhattan. We
commented on the fact that Dick Clark wasn’t there hosting. We wondered if Ryan
Seacrest is self-conscious about the fact that he’s so short. She said being
short was a good quality. She’s quite short.
The New Year was rung in and we didn’t kiss. I looked to her
for it, as I have three times now, and just like the times before I was met
with the back of her head or the side of her face. She must not believe in New
Year’s Eve good luck kisses.
We cried a lot that night in bed, and I started it. She was
anxious about her trip; I knew I was going to miss her. I tried to keep it
together so that I could comfort her, and I did for the most part. It wasn’t
until after she fell asleep on my chest, a spot of her tears still wet on my
t-shirt, that I felt my shoulders begin to shake and tears run down my cheeks.
I kissed her forehead and she didn’t stir. Eventually, I fell asleep too, and
when we woke up in the morning no one mentioned the fact that in a few hours,
we wouldn’t see each other for almost a year. But I know she’ll think of me.
She always thinks of me.
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