Sep 12
A year ago tonight
A year ago tonight I was lying in bed next to Sara, which felt obviously familiar, and very odd. She told me we were through over two months before. I spent the day on a plane bound for L.A. and the Emmys, and Ira Glass, and Sara. I remember telling people, “I don’t even want to go,” and that was half true. I knew that going would have its amazing moments, the Emmys, the parties, hanging out with Ira and the rest of the TAL crew. I wanted to see Sara, and I didn’t. I felt really nervous about seeing her, I didn’t know what to expect. Would it be awkward? Would she feel like a stranger, or worse, a friend who kind of remembered me? Showtime booked two rooms, I always have an entourage. Would she and I sleep in separate beds, separate rooms? Would I end up in a room with mom, and my friend, Celeste, and her fellow? “Because,” I said to myself, “that would be awesome.” I said to myself, sarcastically, “fuck it, I’ll just ask Ira if I can sleep on his sofa.” I didn’t know a lot of what would happen, but I knew that seeing her would probably end badly for me. Seeing Sara that night in that swanky hotel lobby, I felt like going right back to the car, or just dropping dead. Either way, either/or. That feeling did pass, and we fell asleep in the same bed, holding hands. It did feel good that night, but way in the back of my head I knew that being there with her probably wasn’t real contentment. It was more like morphine, a temporary fix. I felt so nice, so warm, and by the next night it would all fade.
To make things more complicated, there was someone back in Tampa, and I kept thinking about her. I hadn’t known her particularly long, just over a month, but it felt longer. I missed her, and I wondered if that was okay. I wondered if she missed me too. I woke up thinking about her, she followed me around more than I expected. Still, I’m not here to write about that morning, or the days after. I’m really not ready, even now. I’m not ready to go back and write the things I’ve never written here. I’m not strong enough, or dead enough, to write those things. I’m just here to write what happened a year ago, a year ago tonight.
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There are people that make an impact. Sometimes it is immediate and profound. Sometimes it is only for a tiny moment and they’re gone. Sometimes it is nagging and for a lifetime. It all must make sense in the grand scheme of things, or not.
Thank you for sharing, Mike.