re: the muppets (part twelve)

Here's the next installment of my lengthy tome. Please click here for Parts One through Eleven.

~ Part Twelve~

I went back into her room. I had no intention of fighting with her. I got my answers. I had to put up with her one more day and then that was it -- I'd soon be gone forever.

She was sitting on the floor reading. She looked up when I entered the room.

"Wow, you were in there a long time."

"Yeah, I was just chatting with Rice."

"About what?"

"Oh, you know, stuff."

I grabbed the newspaper and did the crossword puzzle and every other time-wasting game and activity I could get my hands on. I pretended to be engrossed. I needed to. I didn't want to talk to her. I just wanted to keep myself occupied until she went to bed to reduce the chance that we'd have to converse. Or worse, that I'd have to look her in the eye.

She got under the covers shortly after.

"Aren't you coming to bed?"

Without looking up from the paper, I muttered,

"Soon."

I felt her bristle. I could tell she was processing the change in my demeanor. I was no longer needy and fragile. I was no longer trying to do a desperate patch job on our broken relationship. I didn't seem to care anymore. I was stiff and cold. She totally picked up on it.

I climbed into bed and made a beeline for the far corner. She inched closer to me. I don't know if her movement was to get more comfortable or if my distance made me more attractive to her. I didn't care to find out. I shrugged her off, rolled over and hugged the wall. I put as much distance between us as possible in that small bed.

"Good night," she said in thin voice.

I grunted a reply. Her body stiffened.

At some point the next day, I took a nap. I was bored and hot and trapped in a dorm room. I had the choice of reading, watching a television with no antenna or sleeping. I did the latter in spades.

I awoke to the feeling of something cold and wet against my leg. I opened my eyes to see her standing over me smiling and holding a bottle of water on my thigh.

"I bought this for you. I know the heat here is killing you."

"Thanks," I said and rubbed my eyes.

"I got you this too."

She reached into a plastic shopping bag and removed a bag of Reese's Mini Peanut Butter Cups.

"Because I know how much you like chocolate."

"Thanks. I love those."

"And this too..."

She handed me a funky cardboard picture frame with a paisley design on it.

"I saw it in the bookstore and thought it would look perfect in your bedroom. Of course I expect you to put a picture of me in it..." she said with a smirk.

"Nope. I'm putting a picture of my hot new girlfriend in there."

"Shut up. What do you want to do today? Your last full day in Columbia?"

"I don't care."

She tousled my hair and smiled at me. She was being all sweet and thoughtful. She was almost acting like the girl I used to know. I was so confused. Was this really her? Or was it an act? I once knew her thoughts without her even having to speak them. Now? I was at a loss. She once told me that I knew her better than she knew herself.

"You see inside me. I can't hide from you. You find things in me that I didn't know were there. No one knows me like you do."

But this person was all over the map. She fluctuated between her old and new selves at an alarming rate. She was trapped between both versions of herself. I could see her trying to find the best fit and stick with it. Or was she? I no longer knew for sure.

Was she reaching out to me for help? For some semblance of the stability I used to provide? Or was I seeing things I wanted to see? Who was this girl? Was I made a fool of? Or was it the rest of the world that she was fooling?

I decided to maintain a safe distance and not return the flirtatious patter. And then my cell phone rang. It was Best Friend Since Kindergarten. My tone changed considerably. I laughed freely. I smiled easily. I didn't have to put on a game face. I was naturally light-hearted.

She sat on the bed and listened intently to the one-sided conversation. I noticed her absorbing everything. She played with her fingers and gazed into her lap.

My "Uh... I'll tell you later" and "Wait until I get back" responses caused her to wince. She wasn't used to an edited version of me. I never sanitized my speech in front of her before. And as much as she claimed she wanted me to be more accessible across the board, she cherished her exclusive all-access pass. My censored conversation stabbed her in the heart. She no longer cast the magical "Open Sesame" spell that got me to open up. My emotions were liberated. The floodgates were opened and I wasn't going to shut them. I couldn't. And it hurt her. My ability to trust her and reveal things to only her was her crowning achievement all along. But her hard work came back to haunt her. I transferred her powers to my friends. She didn't enjoy being stripped of them.

I hung up with BFSK. She patted the bed and motioned for me to sit beside her.

"I don't want your friends to hate me."

"They don't hate you."

"I just feel like they're judging me and they don't even know me."

"Frankly, it's not you they're thinking about. They're just looking out for me. It's me they're concerned about."

She digested my statement and then her eyes teared up.

"I don't want you to leave tomorrow."

Her voice cracked midway through and she started to bawl. It was the first time she showed any emotion since sending that letter.

"I'm so scared that you're going to leave here and I'm never going to see you again."

She lay down on the bed and just let go. I had never seen her cry like that before. I knew she cried for me and because of me in the past but this was the first time she did it front of me. Despite my anger, I couldn't help but feel sympathetic. I returned to the mindset that she was nothing more than a scared little girl. And I realized that it wasn't just about my hurt feelings -- she lost something too.

Rice's words echoed in my mind. It was tempting to give into the anger and revel in her sadness and wield it like a weapon and beat her senseless with it. Part of me wanted to exact revenge for thosse days and nights of agony I suffered at her hands but her tears snuffed out the flames of rage and bitterness. Instead, I felt pity for her. And a sense of sobriety. I was still confused but there it was before me -- a frightened little girl. I still wrestled with the desire to punish her. It did a seductive dance in front of my eyes and I almost gave in. But my intuition screamed at me not to wallow at that level. No good would or could come of it. I was 26 years old -- still a kid in many ways but old enough to know better. As much I wanted to keep her ass twisting in the wind, I didn't. I had some responsibility in all of this too. And she was pleading with me to stay in her life. She was adrift and she needed support.

I lay down next to her, leaned over and kissed her on the forehead and said,

"This isn't the end."

She looked at me hopefully. I held her face in my hands.

"You know how much I love you. I haven't ever stopped, no matter what you may think. I can't stay away forever but I do need to go now. You're doing your own thing and now I have to go do mine. You have to let go too, okay?"

She nodded and then unleashed a torrent of new tears.

I watched her cry. Her tears teetered momentarily on those glorious cheek bones I loved so much and then cascaded down her cheeks. I wiped them with my thumb and then did a second sweep with the back of my hand. She inched closer so I put my arm around her and we fell asleep in a tight embrace.

The next morning she drove me to the Amtrak Station in Jefferson City. I didn't have time the night before to say a proper goodbye to Rice so I wrote her a letter and slipped it under her door on the way out.

I thanked her for her honesty and her kindness. I thanked for being a bright spot in an otherwise awful experience. And I asked her to take good care of my special girl. I gave her some instructions similar to what a nervous mother leaves a babysitter:

Sometimes her stomach hurts so you need to rub it to make her feel better. And make sure she eats better and lays off the cigarettes, okay? That's why her stomach is bothering her.

And if she can't sleep, tell her a story. You can totally make one up on the spot. She likes that.

But you know this stuff already. Just promise me you'll take care of her, okay? And let her know that despite everything, I'll love her always.

She wanted to wait with me at the station until my train arrived. The departure time came and went and there was no sign of the train. After about 30 minutes, a delay was officially announced.

"This could be a while. You should get going," I said.

"Are you sure? I feel bad leaving you here to wait around."

"I'll be fine."

"Be careful, okay? Please call me when you get to Chicago tonight."

"I'll be fine. I'm a big girl, remember?"

"Please just call me tonight."

"Okay. Now go on. Get out of here. Beat it. Scram."

"I guess I'll see you... I don't know when..."

"Yeah," I said quietly. "One of these days, I guess."

She kissed my forehead and I gave her cheek one last stroke.

"See ya," we said in unison.

I walked back into the depot to wait for the train. My anger had subsided but my hurt had resurfaced overnight. I wanted distance from her -- physical and emotional -- to figure things out. I didn't know if I ever would see her again. And at long last, the thought of that didn't paralyze me like it did before.

I stared out the window of the train and watched rows of corn, cows and silos streak by. At one point, a two-lane stretch of road ran parallel to the train tracks. I saw a tan sedan motoring along. I pretended it was a red two-door with Rice at the wheel and her hanging dangerously out the passenger-side window trying to get my attention and hoping that I'd see her and pull the emergency brake and the train would stop and we'd be reunited.

Our romance borrowed heavily from movies. We were inspired by the over-the-top gestures in the films that had shaped our childhoods and we tried to work them into our relationship. In a world that could be dark and shitty, we managed to provide each other with a reprieve from the lowly day-to-day crap. I wanted her to reach into that bag of tricks and rescue us from this gloomy fate. I believed in our ethereal connection. It was so much better than our flawed, mortal one.

I continued to stare out the window willing that red car to appear. I started to lose hope when the St. Louis arch came into view. She was gone. So was the magic. It was time to make new magic with someone else. Her image was tarnished. She wasn't infallible. And, for the first time, I allowed for the possibility of a replacement. She was amazing and stuff but we didn't last so that meant THE ONE was still out there and she would blow her out of the water. I was excited by the possibilities.

Instead of being crippled by the pain, it recharged me on that journey home. I stepped outside of my experience and momentarily forgot about the circumstances that led me to that window seat in coach on an Amtrak train rolling through the Midwest. I decided to let go of the pain and embrace the adventure.

A little while later I got up to stretch my legs and use the bathroom. On the way back to my seat I caught the eye of a man who was maybe about eight years older than me. His head was clean-shaven and he had a muscular build and a handsome, friendly face. I returned his smile and took my seat. A few minutes later, he moved to a seat across the aisle from mine.

"So are you visiting Chicago?" he asked in a ragged, smoky voice dripping with a Chicago accent.

"No, I'm connecting to a train to New York... if this one gets to Chicago on time!"

"Yeah, this one is really running behind schedule."

"I know! It arrived an hour and a half late this morning."

"Where'd you get on?"

"Jefferson City."

"Is that where you're from?"

"Nope. I'm from New Jersey. I'm on my way home."

"What the heck were you doing in Jefferson City?!"

"Visiting someone."

"You're going all the way to New Jersey by train? Wow, that's a long way to travel."

"Yeah, I know. It's not by choice, believe me. I had to cut short my vacation and head back home. I couldn't change my plane ticket so this was my only option."

"I"m sorry to hear that. I hope everything's okay? I don't mean to be nosy or anything but I hope nothing bad happened to make you go home early."

"No, it's okay. It's a long story. I don't want to get into it but no one's sick or died or anything..."

"Oh, that's good. Again, I didn't mean to be nosy..."

"No, not nosy at all! Thank you for asking. So... you're from Chicago, I presume?"

"Yup. Chi-Town."

We exchanged names and pleasantries. I think his name was Chris. I can't really remember. I do remember that he visited the Lake of Ozarks every summer and was on his way back to Chicago after a week's vacation. He was a really nice guy. He was a bit shy. Despite his good looks, I had the feeling that he didn't do so well with the ladies. He was sincere and earnest and all those other qualities that send us jaded types fleeing for the hills, unfortunately.

He rested his weight on the left arm rest and looked at me intently.

"I just have to tell you, Curly, that you... you have amazing hair. It's just... incredible."

I reflexively and self-consciously touched my curls.

"I mean, it's just awesome."

"Thank you! That's so nice of you!"

"I bet you get that a lot, don't you?"

There was nothing slimy about his approach. He wasn't feeding me a line and trying to butter me up. He dug my hair and wanted to let me know. After a week of getting my ass kicked, I needed kindness and he provided it. After the ultimate rejection, I needed to feel attractive again and he gave me that too. We exchanged email addresses but I lost it several years ago when my hard drive crashed. (Sorry, Chris!)

I arrived in Chicago with about five minutes to spare. I sprinted through the station with my rolly suitcase skidding behind me. Once on the train, I called her as promised and chased her off the phone when she wanted to start chatting. I was out of breath, tired and wary of pissing off the passengers I would be trapped on a train with for the next 24 hours.

I fell asleep shortly after pulling out of Chicago, slept through Indiana and Ohio and woke up the next morning in Pittsburgh.

On the first day of my two-day journey, I likened my experience to that of Jack Kerouac's. I thought I'd see a few states and meet some interesting cats along the way and write about them. By the time we rolled into Harrisburg, my attitude had changed completely. Fuck On the Road! I was fidgety and restless. I was confined to an uncomfortable seat on the aisle in coach and the only book I had with me -- Tuesdays with Morrie -- was depressing the shit out of me.

Just as I busted out my Walkman, my neighbor in the coveted window seat thought it would be an ideal time to strike up conversation. Rule of Thumb: If you want to prompt conversation with a stranger on public transportation, simply slip on a pair of headphones.

She was a nice woman in her 60s. She was a frequent Amtrak rider because she was afraid of flying. After some polite-yet-dry banter, she went back to her knitting and I resumed stewing in my own juices.

At last, the train pulled into Penn Station. I never thought I'd say this but I was really happy to see Newark.

I got home and took an extra long shower to wash two days of train off of me. My answering machine was loaded with messages from friends checking up on me as well as one from her.

"Just wanted to make sure you got home okay. I miss you already."

I was in no mood to call her back. I was tired, grouchy, pissed and still smarting from the whole experience. I sent a quick email.

Got your message. I just got home. My trip was fine. Long but fine. I don't recommend traveling by train that far. Have a good night.

-- Curly

No "I love you" or funny recap of my journey. I did love her and did want to keep her posted on all of my minute details but I couldn't. We were in a new phase. I had to begin the process of reclassifying our relationship and retraining myself -- and her -- that we were just friends.

>> Go to Part Thirteen

-- Part One
-- Part Two
-- Part Three
-- Part Four
-- Part Five
-- Part Six
-- Part Seven
-- Part Eight
-- Part Nine
-- Part Ten
-- Part Eleven