the two of you had an art show, and everybody came. after we'd stuffed ourselves on grape leaves, mujadara, and hummus, we watched the short (which was funny, and weird like you are) and the documentary, which wasn't supposed to be funny but was. we drank your wine, and the more we drank, the more we all wanted to dance. when the show ended, we walked to your car, and then suddenly there was a soccer ball, and you guys ran through the streets. because you were drunk, somebody fell in a hole, and we laughed until our sides hurt and then went home. nobody wanted to go to sleep. we bought ice cream, even though it was cold outside, and took it on the roof with a pile of thick blankets, lying there huddled together until morning. after the sun had come up, we curled up on any available surface in the house and slept off the night.
*
we were feeling a little antisocial, a little sad, and a lot nostalgic. we bought all of our favorite foods, and traipsed all over the city to find them. in your tiny kitchen (where i never could figure out any rhyme or reason to your organization system), we cooked all day: stuffing, mashed potatoes, green beans. everything we would've done at home, except we weren't home so we could do it exactly how we wanted. organic, farmer's market green beans with canned fried onions. blue potatoes mashed with bleu cheese. we ate and drank and listened to christmas music, not because it was christmas but because it almost was, and because that, too, reminded us of home.
*
this could be any day, but it was just one: we were bored and hungry, so we went to brunch. and afterwards, with nothing to do, we went to your parents' house (this was before your mother got sick), and we ate cream puffs from the japanese bakery, watched a documentary about a baby camel, and sang songs whose words we didn't know to the television set. it was more fun than it sounds, wasn't it? your friends called, and even though we hadn't done anything all day we were sort of tired, but it was only eight and we were both wearing dresses so we had no reason not to go. when we told them at the bar about our day, they laughed at us, but they wanted to sing too, so we came home and did it all again.
*
you were going to leave the next day. i felt worried and sad, but so relieved that you would be getting what you needed and, i'll admit it now: a little relieved for me, too. we ate something, i don't remember what, and got our nails done (because it was stupid, but that day was supposed to be stupid). you helped me find my halloween costume and i realized that you would be gone before i wore it. when it got dark, we bought food for your party and took it to your house, where we cooked and ate and listened to bad music together. we tried on our costumes just so we'd get to see each other's, and you--in typical fashion--decided to put on scary music and greet your guests dressed up, lights off. by the time that we left, i missed you already.
*
it started in the park, but you weren't there for that part. or: it started a week before, when you watched me so intently while i talked that my face burned and i wanted to never run out of things to say to you. or: it started a month before, when everything was going wrong and you made me laugh. but i went to the park because it was one of the first warm days of the year, and when people decided to get food i wanted you to come. you did, commenting on the size of the group (it had tripled, i promise), and squeezed into the booth next to me. i don't remember much of the conversation, but i remember you jerked your head toward me when you walked outside, and i followed you and you kissed me on the sidewalk. you said, "can we do this sometime without all of these other people around?" and i said yes, of course. back inside you touched my leg under the table; you asked, "wednesday?" and when you wondered later if i remembered i said i don't remember much but i remember that and yes, of course.
*
we had driven all day, slept the sleep that only exhausted people can, and then done the whole thing again. i was excited, anxious, terrified, exhilarated; your motives were almost unbelievably altruistic. that night, as we lay in my bed with frozen washcloths on our faces, you said to me in complete seriousness: "if you don't get an air conditioner tomorrow, i'm going home." i wasn't ready to be by myself, and truly it was one of the hottest days i'd ever felt, so we did it and basked in the cool and in our success. when you left, i thought, this is really it, and my new life began.
