For Halloween we had all gone to a party, paired off in couples’ attire. Scoob and LaShell were a doctor and nurse; I was a Victoria’s Secret angel and Joe a Calvin Klein underwear model. College is really one of the only times to get away with wearing underwear out in public, to a party, cheeky underwear rimmed with lace and a matching corset, along with angel wings, dark eye makeup and glitter. Joe wore only black boxer briefs and when the pictures were developed we appeared more of a couple than usual, our model poses and smiling faces enough to convince even me that we were together. We would hold hands, flirt casually, and go home together, but that’s where it always ended, skin touching skin in my twin bed that never ended in anything but sleep. I knew too that I should end things with Adam Wadsworth, but I was scared of what that would mean, of the changes that would cause to slip into place. Looking back I don’t know how I was possibly afraid of change, of taking a chance on something new, when I’d already made the three thousand mile trek down to Texas. But it seemed to me that I could never really be with someone my mom would never meet, and so in my mind that meant being with Adam Wadsworth forever.
~
I didn’t go home for Thanksgiving. Instead, I planned to spend it alone with a full turkey dinner from Whole Foods, watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade on TV. But on the morning of, I was talked into driving to spend it with Joe’s family, an hour or so away.
“What are you doing?” Joe’s voice was anxious on the phone.
“Sitting in my pajamas, about to take a shower, happy Thanksgiving!” I said, in my best attempt at cheery.
“Come here, spend it with me, please,” his voice was sincere and though I thought I couldn’t be convinced, he convinced me.
I put on a burgundy and black dress, that was too warm for the Texas November, but looked right for the fall and meeting the family, and I got in my Avalon and drove to get flowers, and then onto I-35 north. I was a little nervous I’ll admit, my hands clamming up on the stirring wheel and the open road not offering many distractions as I traveled that day to spend Thanksgiving with a family other than my own. It was weird in a way too, because I wasn’t the girlfriend, I was only the friend, and I couldn’t help but think of it that way, about what this meant in the grand scheme of me and Joe.
“We’re so glad you could come,” his dad greeted me with open arms, Texas warmth, that southern hospitality I was still getting used to my first semester down south.
“Thank you for having me,” I smiled and handed him the flowers, a fall bouquet with a little plastic turkey sticking out, the only ones they had at the only open store I had found in San Antonio. I was introduced to many family members before I found Joe, sitting in the backyard, eating a piece of chocolate pecan pie, and smiling big when he saw me.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Arshley,” he said, hugging me hard, and scooting me toward the kitchen to get a plate of food and to meet his sisters; Natalie and Elizabeth, and to meet his grandma, a very old woman who was sweet and senile and for some reason who kept thinking I was Natalie Portman off of her current issue of Vogue.
When I left that day the sun was setting and I waved goodbye to Joe’s family as the sky turned orangey-pink in my rear view mirror. It was my first holiday without her, but I didn’t think of it all day that day, instead I enjoyed the turkey and the stuffing and the company, and I relished in the fact that Joe and my relationship was platonic, because that meant I could hold onto it forever; romantic love would likely end when college did, but he and I would not.
~
Adam Wadsworth awaited my arrival at SeaTac airport as I de-boarded the plane that December, coming from Manteca where I had just spent my first momless Christmas with only my brother Adam and my dad. My eyes searched frantically for his in the crowd that evening, my hair askew from sleeping on the plane and my black stretch pants covered in lint from the navy blue blanket that Southwest airlines had provided me with. Then I saw him, and he looked the same, I mean he looked different but he hadn’t changed. He saw me a moment later and he walked to me, kissing my forehead while I clung to him like a child attached momentarily to their parents’ leg, desperate and secure.
“You get prettier every time I see you,” he said, his blue eyes smiling into mine and we stood hand-in-hand, awaiting the arrival of my baggage from the carousel.
“Christmas was hard,” I said, eyes red and traveled as he held onto me tighter. And it wasn’t that I loved him then, looking back, but rather that he was familiar to me, that I knew he loved me, and so I allowed the emotion to run freely from my body, permitting his comfort to spread over me like the feeling of home on a Sunday afternoon. He was quiet and strong and when my luggage came we got into his green Honda civic and made our way down I-5 south, toward my brother Ryan’s house. There wasn’t much to say on the drive home, even though we had been apart three months; we’d talked on the phone almost daily. He had clung to the relationship most likely out of boredom, while I had held on because it was the only real link left to back home. While I had been sleeping next to Joe nearly nightly, he had been missing me here, and I felt the guilt pains begin to twitch in my stomach as I thought about Joe while holding Adam’s hand.
“Let’s have dinner tomorrow and just hang out,” he said as he unloaded my luggage from the trunk and we wheeled it up to Ryan’s front porch. It was pitch black outside now and I could hear only the humming buzz of the street lights as we approached.
“Sounds good,” I said and then I kissed him hard on the mouth. And as I let go of his hand and eased back off his lips I found no security in the lack of love I felt for Adam Wadsworth; not so much from that moment or that single kiss but rather from who’s lips I wished upon mine right then. Adam was my comfort from home but Joe had become my new comfort, what was familiar now, what was untied from all the haunting I felt in the state of Washington, on this porch, in the air, suffocating me.
~
I dreaded letting go of Joe that day at the airport in Austin; boarding a plane I didn’t want to go on, facing a reality I wanted to be false. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said to me then, and with that as my only glimmer of security I let go of his broad shoulders and forced back tears, tears that crept up just imagining my next two weeks in California, the baking I would do alone, without my mom, the gifts I would buy for everyone except her, the wrapping and the decorating that would bring back memories of her with every stocking hung, with every piece of mistletoe placed. But that was the thing about me now, no matter how strong of fight the tears put up I would never let them win; they would never fall down my cheeks from my lashes, I would forever hold them inside thinking it would make me stronger. It wasn’t fair for me to cling to him so tightly, Joe, I know that now but then he was what I needed, what defined happiness, what made me feel attached when I was detached from everything else. And that was the last time we would be friends again, real friends, the end of that first semester marked a transition in my feelings for him that was either love or something like it.
~
I walked into Ryan’s house that night and hugged him tightly, Chase running up to hug me by the still lit up Christmas tree lined with packages clearly marked with my name on them. I picked him up and all my love for home came flowing back and I remembered how much I was missing down in Texas. He had grown so much, his brown hair longer now and his baby face losing all of its chubbiness and transforming into the structure of a little boy. He was talking a mile a minute and showing me Batman and Spiderman and everything else that he loved that I had missed when I left him back in August. On the refrigerator he showed me a picture he had made in school, of grandma and Magic and Contessa—my mom and our dog and cat that had all died a year apart of one another. I couldn’t believe he remembered them, his four and half year old little brain drew a picture of the time grandma saved him from a big wave at the beach they had gone to a year before, and he drew her now up in the clouds, looking down on him from heaven, she had angel wings and was next to our cat and dog, watching over us.
~
Ryan and Chase’s mom, Michelle had only been dating a short while when she got pregnant. Ryan was scared and not ready to have a baby but she wanted to have it. It was one of those stories, where it didn’t work out for the two of them, but out of it came this life changing event for all of us. It’s crazy how much you can love someone from the very beginning, that instant love you feel that runs through your body organically, and you have no idea where it came from or how it got there so quickly. I was there when Chase was born, on June 28th of 1999 and when I sat holding him as he slept I felt the change that happened, and I welcomed it openly, knowing I would do anything for that tiny baby that arrived one summer evening, a week and a half early, with the rise of the full moon.
Coming home now, I felt guilty for leaving him, I wanted to hold onto him forever, not miss a minute of his changing face and speech and life. I wanted to be here because she couldn’t, my mom, his grandma. She wouldn’t get to see him grow up, she wouldn’t be able to save him from anymore waves at the beach or teach him how to make chocolate chip cookies or meatloaf, or take him to Disneyland for his birthday. That night, when I laid in bed with him, reading him the book she had written in for him “Grandma’s promises,” that promised all the things they would do together as he got older, my stomach tightened and he looked up at me, already expecting it,
“Dad always cries in this book too Auntie Ashley,” he said, his huge hazel-brown eyes looking up at me and his tiny fingers resting on my hand.
“I just miss grandma buddy,” I said, pushing back his hair and kissing his forehead. Wondering how often Ryan cried, because he never talked about it with me.
“Me too,” he said, comforting me more than I was comforting him. And I waited for his breath to get soft and heavy with sleep before I left his blue racecar bed and eased his fingers off of my hand.
~
Adam Wadsworth and I had no real epic ending. We spent time together over the break and when I wouldn’t have sex with him one night, after a movie, I think that began the end of everything for us. I’m sure he was suspicious of Joe, as I told him the truth about our friendship, how we were open and honest with each other and that he spent many nights in my bed, but nothing ever happened. I don’t think he believed me, and to be honest, I wouldn’t have believed me either, because the whole thing is pretty hard to believe for anyone, especially an outsider looking in. Especially my boyfriend, who I’d never spent the night with. The weirdest part was, we didn’t share any words, I just allowed it to drift, to ease out, and to be uncomplicated. He was supposed to come to dinner on New Year’s Eve at my brother’s house, and when he didn’t show I called him and he said he was driving back to Portland, that he was sorry. And I never mourned the loss because it was not an epic one, it just seemed right as I couldn’t bear the thought of giving myself to him entirely, because there was barely half of me left, and I needed all of it for Texas.
~
I didn’t go home for Thanksgiving. Instead, I planned to spend it alone with a full turkey dinner from Whole Foods, watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade on TV. But on the morning of, I was talked into driving to spend it with Joe’s family, an hour or so away.
“What are you doing?” Joe’s voice was anxious on the phone.
“Sitting in my pajamas, about to take a shower, happy Thanksgiving!” I said, in my best attempt at cheery.
“Come here, spend it with me, please,” his voice was sincere and though I thought I couldn’t be convinced, he convinced me.
I put on a burgundy and black dress, that was too warm for the Texas November, but looked right for the fall and meeting the family, and I got in my Avalon and drove to get flowers, and then onto I-35 north. I was a little nervous I’ll admit, my hands clamming up on the stirring wheel and the open road not offering many distractions as I traveled that day to spend Thanksgiving with a family other than my own. It was weird in a way too, because I wasn’t the girlfriend, I was only the friend, and I couldn’t help but think of it that way, about what this meant in the grand scheme of me and Joe.
“We’re so glad you could come,” his dad greeted me with open arms, Texas warmth, that southern hospitality I was still getting used to my first semester down south.
“Thank you for having me,” I smiled and handed him the flowers, a fall bouquet with a little plastic turkey sticking out, the only ones they had at the only open store I had found in San Antonio. I was introduced to many family members before I found Joe, sitting in the backyard, eating a piece of chocolate pecan pie, and smiling big when he saw me.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Arshley,” he said, hugging me hard, and scooting me toward the kitchen to get a plate of food and to meet his sisters; Natalie and Elizabeth, and to meet his grandma, a very old woman who was sweet and senile and for some reason who kept thinking I was Natalie Portman off of her current issue of Vogue.
When I left that day the sun was setting and I waved goodbye to Joe’s family as the sky turned orangey-pink in my rear view mirror. It was my first holiday without her, but I didn’t think of it all day that day, instead I enjoyed the turkey and the stuffing and the company, and I relished in the fact that Joe and my relationship was platonic, because that meant I could hold onto it forever; romantic love would likely end when college did, but he and I would not.
~
Adam Wadsworth awaited my arrival at SeaTac airport as I de-boarded the plane that December, coming from Manteca where I had just spent my first momless Christmas with only my brother Adam and my dad. My eyes searched frantically for his in the crowd that evening, my hair askew from sleeping on the plane and my black stretch pants covered in lint from the navy blue blanket that Southwest airlines had provided me with. Then I saw him, and he looked the same, I mean he looked different but he hadn’t changed. He saw me a moment later and he walked to me, kissing my forehead while I clung to him like a child attached momentarily to their parents’ leg, desperate and secure.
“You get prettier every time I see you,” he said, his blue eyes smiling into mine and we stood hand-in-hand, awaiting the arrival of my baggage from the carousel.
“Christmas was hard,” I said, eyes red and traveled as he held onto me tighter. And it wasn’t that I loved him then, looking back, but rather that he was familiar to me, that I knew he loved me, and so I allowed the emotion to run freely from my body, permitting his comfort to spread over me like the feeling of home on a Sunday afternoon. He was quiet and strong and when my luggage came we got into his green Honda civic and made our way down I-5 south, toward my brother Ryan’s house. There wasn’t much to say on the drive home, even though we had been apart three months; we’d talked on the phone almost daily. He had clung to the relationship most likely out of boredom, while I had held on because it was the only real link left to back home. While I had been sleeping next to Joe nearly nightly, he had been missing me here, and I felt the guilt pains begin to twitch in my stomach as I thought about Joe while holding Adam’s hand.
“Let’s have dinner tomorrow and just hang out,” he said as he unloaded my luggage from the trunk and we wheeled it up to Ryan’s front porch. It was pitch black outside now and I could hear only the humming buzz of the street lights as we approached.
“Sounds good,” I said and then I kissed him hard on the mouth. And as I let go of his hand and eased back off his lips I found no security in the lack of love I felt for Adam Wadsworth; not so much from that moment or that single kiss but rather from who’s lips I wished upon mine right then. Adam was my comfort from home but Joe had become my new comfort, what was familiar now, what was untied from all the haunting I felt in the state of Washington, on this porch, in the air, suffocating me.
~
I dreaded letting go of Joe that day at the airport in Austin; boarding a plane I didn’t want to go on, facing a reality I wanted to be false. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said to me then, and with that as my only glimmer of security I let go of his broad shoulders and forced back tears, tears that crept up just imagining my next two weeks in California, the baking I would do alone, without my mom, the gifts I would buy for everyone except her, the wrapping and the decorating that would bring back memories of her with every stocking hung, with every piece of mistletoe placed. But that was the thing about me now, no matter how strong of fight the tears put up I would never let them win; they would never fall down my cheeks from my lashes, I would forever hold them inside thinking it would make me stronger. It wasn’t fair for me to cling to him so tightly, Joe, I know that now but then he was what I needed, what defined happiness, what made me feel attached when I was detached from everything else. And that was the last time we would be friends again, real friends, the end of that first semester marked a transition in my feelings for him that was either love or something like it.
~
I walked into Ryan’s house that night and hugged him tightly, Chase running up to hug me by the still lit up Christmas tree lined with packages clearly marked with my name on them. I picked him up and all my love for home came flowing back and I remembered how much I was missing down in Texas. He had grown so much, his brown hair longer now and his baby face losing all of its chubbiness and transforming into the structure of a little boy. He was talking a mile a minute and showing me Batman and Spiderman and everything else that he loved that I had missed when I left him back in August. On the refrigerator he showed me a picture he had made in school, of grandma and Magic and Contessa—my mom and our dog and cat that had all died a year apart of one another. I couldn’t believe he remembered them, his four and half year old little brain drew a picture of the time grandma saved him from a big wave at the beach they had gone to a year before, and he drew her now up in the clouds, looking down on him from heaven, she had angel wings and was next to our cat and dog, watching over us.
~
Ryan and Chase’s mom, Michelle had only been dating a short while when she got pregnant. Ryan was scared and not ready to have a baby but she wanted to have it. It was one of those stories, where it didn’t work out for the two of them, but out of it came this life changing event for all of us. It’s crazy how much you can love someone from the very beginning, that instant love you feel that runs through your body organically, and you have no idea where it came from or how it got there so quickly. I was there when Chase was born, on June 28th of 1999 and when I sat holding him as he slept I felt the change that happened, and I welcomed it openly, knowing I would do anything for that tiny baby that arrived one summer evening, a week and a half early, with the rise of the full moon.
Coming home now, I felt guilty for leaving him, I wanted to hold onto him forever, not miss a minute of his changing face and speech and life. I wanted to be here because she couldn’t, my mom, his grandma. She wouldn’t get to see him grow up, she wouldn’t be able to save him from anymore waves at the beach or teach him how to make chocolate chip cookies or meatloaf, or take him to Disneyland for his birthday. That night, when I laid in bed with him, reading him the book she had written in for him “Grandma’s promises,” that promised all the things they would do together as he got older, my stomach tightened and he looked up at me, already expecting it,
“Dad always cries in this book too Auntie Ashley,” he said, his huge hazel-brown eyes looking up at me and his tiny fingers resting on my hand.
“I just miss grandma buddy,” I said, pushing back his hair and kissing his forehead. Wondering how often Ryan cried, because he never talked about it with me.
“Me too,” he said, comforting me more than I was comforting him. And I waited for his breath to get soft and heavy with sleep before I left his blue racecar bed and eased his fingers off of my hand.
~
Adam Wadsworth and I had no real epic ending. We spent time together over the break and when I wouldn’t have sex with him one night, after a movie, I think that began the end of everything for us. I’m sure he was suspicious of Joe, as I told him the truth about our friendship, how we were open and honest with each other and that he spent many nights in my bed, but nothing ever happened. I don’t think he believed me, and to be honest, I wouldn’t have believed me either, because the whole thing is pretty hard to believe for anyone, especially an outsider looking in. Especially my boyfriend, who I’d never spent the night with. The weirdest part was, we didn’t share any words, I just allowed it to drift, to ease out, and to be uncomplicated. He was supposed to come to dinner on New Year’s Eve at my brother’s house, and when he didn’t show I called him and he said he was driving back to Portland, that he was sorry. And I never mourned the loss because it was not an epic one, it just seemed right as I couldn’t bear the thought of giving myself to him entirely, because there was barely half of me left, and I needed all of it for Texas.
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