This stuff tends to fall out of me on planes. I have ideas for things-books, stories, cut up fiction, sometimes a movie, though i doubt i have the stones for such a thing. The stuff i throw up here is like excercise. The next thing is something i just started fiddling with, sort of an idea that a woman marries a guy who isn't the most truthful, he appears to be callous and simple. Its only in his passing that she truly finds our who he was afraid to be. And I think thats something most of us can learn from. the fear. I mean, I sit in my 20 story five start hotel in Tokyo and I am afraid. i am lonely and confused, even though i can see the japanese eiffel tower. Yes, i know it makes little sense. What do you want from me? its been a country each day for a week. Anyhow, this is one of the excerpts from the thing, one of the things. forgive the punctuation as always. Pretend one of those well accessorized women with a house that has everything just so is reading this..
I will make more words. I think.
The idea that you one day will read this is making me tipsy. If you are indeed holding this piece of paper in your small, well looked after hands, then that means one or two things.
I am gone and not coming back, OR-
You are snooping in my stuff and should burn in a tiny little hell. Since this is in my safe deposit box, I seriously doubt that you found the key or bank (First National) and made it in the vault.
However, let me say that whatever time we have post me writing this I appreciated a million times more than the most gracious of all gestures. I truly shall, from when the ink dries, try to swallow you, your aura, your essence-wholly and constantly until my arms stop working.
We’ve been in and out of each other’s visual space for over five years. Most of the things wrong with us I have been able to Jedi mind trick you into thinking it was you, but it was really me.
I was scared. I hate talking about my feelings. And I did think that skirt made your ass look just fine. I never thought it was fat. Really.
Maybe during the chase for this paper you have somehow forgiven me for leaving, for expiring. It wasn’t my wish but the journey wore me out. (it hasn’t as I write this but its near, the end I mean.)
The constant uphill battles and the sheer magnitude of the effort I had to make to get through a day have just smoked me. I didn’t or rather I won’t give up, I just know that I am running nearly on fumes. But please reflect on the good, the sunny well soundtracked trajectory of our love, the noises, the tastes. Remember those trips? Remember the coming and going? We were dizzy with each other. That reminds me, when I see you next after finishing this, I am going to twirl you like Ricky twirled Lucy. And I will kiss and hug you for no reason. Yes, I shall. So when you rewind the time we shared, our last few months, remember this. Through all of the silly romantic, Notebook styled shenanigans I was aware of the end of the tunnel. I was trying to give you and myself a scrapbook, like one of those really attractive couples in one of those really attractive films that people like us go see and wish we could live in real life. Dear, I am not trying to rub your face in it. I want to make up for wasting time.
I just want some credit for being better than a C plus husband. I want you to know, you MOVED me. You made me go longer, harder. You compelled me to be a better man, cliché as it sounds. I was attempting to be Cary Grant or Mickey Rourke (before his boxing career) albeit not as sexy, rich or well groomed. But that, the effort, perceived or not, was because I felt as if you deserved better than just okay, or just a plain old two megapixel love. You deserve as many megapixels as a nerd can count.
So please, go on. Make it loud. Live in color. For me. Tell me things, just up above your shoulder to the air, like the ceiling will answer-maybe it will. I will watch. I will envy whomever scoops you up, whomever finds the treasure that you are.
So that’s it. Sorry to go. Forever isn’t long enough. I promise to not flush q tips anymore either. Really.
It was as if he never left. Seeing the apartment, almost unchanged, the smell, the old familiar trudge up the squeaky stairs-it all made him miss the years the two of them spent in the borderline hovel. The fact that she was practically glowing and even prettier than the day they met made him nervous.
She stood in the doorway to the tiny kitchen, waiting for him to speak. He inhaled a few times, scratched his head and gasped for air.
“It looks like the day we moved in-except without any boxes. I can’t believe you still-, “ he attempted.
And she lunged for him, grabbing him, as if he was a ladder and the building were on fire.
As her lips slammed into his, they both body choked one another, trying to make one person.
“I missed you,” she muffled out of the liplock.
“Me too, I , I never should,” and she cut him off with her tongue.
Finally, she extracted herself from his arms and they continued to stare at one another.
“How have we not seen each other?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I mean, I wanted to come back, I just felt like I couldn’t,” he ejected, tears lightly forming in the corner of his eyes.
“It’s okay, I dialed your number a thousand times except for the five at the end,” she divulged.
He laughed as they moved to the green couch at once in one fluid movement, sitting as if choreographed.
Time passed as they laughed, cried and made amends. He promised to call her. She promised to do the same and even respond to his long emails.
He looked at his watch and realized it was time to catch his flight home.
Getting up to leave, smiling and nearly ill with a longing for their previous life together, he told her he still loved her. Beneath his grip, under his chin, she let out that she indeed felt the same. They kissed, briefly and slowly. They hugged, hard and long.
He nearly missed his flight.
The embrace/hug lasted for almost two minutes. Years later on his porch, on the day his heart would stop beating, he would watch the neighborhood kids play in the street, and remember her soft lips and her hair.
