A Final Attempt

Okay, here I go at my final attempt to get up to date with my blogging...

Last Tuesday, after group, I met a stranger for coffee. She first introduced herself to me after the previous Saturday's AA meeting, and she asked if I wanted to join her for the Tuesday meeting. I agreed. While this sort of thing seems to be the norm, I was very uncomfortable. After the meeting, she asked if I wanted to have dinner with her and another friend. Even though I still felt awkward, I agreed.

I am very torn lately about what to include on this blog and how to present it. So much of how I am changing these days has to do with listening to other people's stories-- stories that I don't feel it's my place to include here. Furthermore, I have been peeling away the layers and getting closer to my own most vulnerable stories-- stories which I'm also not sure I'm entirely ready to share. I know that I've been writing out the entire "play by play" of my fucked up life over the past year and a half, but in a way, all of that is "surface drama"-- drama constructed to conceal the truest most tender spots. And those are things I haven't come to terms with yet...

Anyway, after that dinner, Brick met me on the Upper West Side and we set out for an evening stroll back to my place. It was a long walk. We crossed Central Park in the dark which made me nervous, but there was an unnervingly beautiful peace about it. Once again, Brick stayed over with me that night.

The next day, Wednesday, was a big day for me-- my 30 day mark! But the more I thought about it, the more anxious I felt. So much was spinning in my head... so much about my dad. It's hard to replicate last week's whirlwind of thought here, but I felt overwhelmed with guilt and anger and grief and loss and a fear of my 30 days.

What the fuck was this about?

I thought about it a lot... about him a lot... my dad, that is. I'm not sure how to explain this. I haven't felt like much of a writer lately. So much of what I feel is simply impression... fleeting. I never realized what lonely people alcoholics and addicts are-- before using, while using... Loneliness, discomfort. I am thinking about my dad. He never got better... never got help. My heart is swollen and tight. But I'm there with him. I share this with him--this disease... something that my mother never shared with him, BigSis never shared with him, LilSis never shared with him. I can understand him in a way that they can't. I like that. We are both sick. We are both lonely.

But it won't always be this way, will it? I'm getting better, aren't I? And so, I'm leaving him. I'm leaving him again. I am filled with guilt.

My dad was very sick for a while before he died. My mom took us and left him when I was seven years old. He died when I was eleven. My grandmother said that he called out our names before he died. (Did she really say that?) I imagine it operatically-- some fantastic denouement-- a hollow baritone aria perhaps, arms thrashing, eyes flashing with wild hallucinations, and I wasn't there for him. I wasn't there. I left him. But the other day, I re-read my childhood diary. He was in a coma for several days before he died. He wasn't calling my name with his last gasp of air. Why did I think it so for so many years?

He got sick; We left him; he died. I will never leave anyone again, no matter what.

I want to be angry at my dad, but I can't. He has to be a victim, a martyr, a saint. I need to be angry at him, but I can't. I can't, I can't, I CAN'T!!! I need to cry, but I can't.

It fucking hurts.

I don't know... I feel guilty getting well. I didn't want to go to a meeting on Wednesday. But I did. I met Brick and went to a gay/lesbian meeting in midtown. Then we walked back to my place. We planned a feast to celebrate my 30 days. All I could think about was my dad and wanting to change the past. I am without "the serenity to accept the things I can not change." I was angry at my mother. No. I am not angry. What's that? Oh, it's just anxiety.

We invited NDN over for dinner and I made spaghetti and meatballs. Brick bought us a cherry cheesecake and NDN brought over the appetizers. After dinner, I sang and sang. It was a nice night.

The anxiety won't leave.

Thursday was strange.

DBE was back at group, still with her black eye. She had been drinking the night before. She brought an overnight bag. Another member of our group, one who lives up in Westchester, had volunteered to take her to a detox center up there. The only problem? He was out that day, as was our regular counselor. DBE was stuck.

Group was intense that day. The first half was run by an incompetent intern/trainee. Brick complained at the break and they got us a proper counselor. Another group member told us all that he is gay. I never would have guessed it. Afterwards I chatted with a group member from Senegal. Brick thinks he's really hot. (Both of us noticed that he keeps looking at me...) But poor DBE was stuck! I felt awful. I talked to her for quite some time. There she was, all packed and ready to go, let down once again. I told her that if she wanted to take the train to Long Island, I could probably get a car from my family. Then Brick mentioned that his sister had a car in the city and that he would ask her if we could use it. Brick's sister agreed.

So, the plan was set-- Brick and I were going to drive DBE up to Westchester to this facility. It was a rather strange adventure. The hospital was on beautiful grounds, but had a sort of creepy feel to it. The waiting room felt like some kind of boarding school or college admissions office. DBE kept insisting that we didn't have to wait with her, but Brick and I were concerned. We gave her our numbers and asked her to call us to check in. (Neither of us has since heard from her).

Afterwards, Brick and I had a cigarette in a gazebo and then drove to a nearby McDonald's. After gorging ourselves on things we shouldn't have, we climbed back into the car for the long drive home. There was a lot of traffic going through the Bronx. I took a picture of him driving and told him he was "one hot motherfucker."

Once back in the city, we went right to Brick's house. We were singing "Like a Prayer" (which Brick told me is about a blow job) and I was in a strange mood-- sort of "in heat," as Hammer put it! My mood was growing more restless minute to minute. Brick suggested that we find a meeting to go to, but I refused. I just didn't want to go. I was sick of it. We had spent the entire morning in therapy and the entire afternoon driving a fellow alcoholic to an upstate psychiatric hospital. I was fucking sick of it!

So, instead, we got some Tasti D-Lite. Then we went back to his place to hang out. He went to the gym in his building while I blogged for a while and wrote The Monster Post: Part III. When he came back, Brick continued to pressure me to go to a meeting and I continued to refuse. He was feeling a little delirious, and I couldn't get rid of my internal scowl. So we plopped on the bed and talked. Then he smoked some cigarettes and talked to suitors on the phone. Before we knew it, it had gotten late, so we climbed into bed to the sounds of Beaches once again.

Friday morning began well. Brick and I woke up and had bagels for breakfast. Then he went to drive the car back up to his sister's place. I went home to shower, pick up a prescription and change my clothes. We had a plan to meet up later that afternoon for some shopping.

So, when the afternoon rolled around, I approached Brick near Grand Central Station. I was wearing my Clinton/Gore t-shirt. Brick laughed at it and told me that he votes Republican. I couldn't believe it. I was seriously astounded! We got on the subway and rode to Brooklyn Bridge.

"How can you be a Republican???" I asked. "What about the issue of gay marriage?"

"I don't think it's necessary," he said "as long as there is legal equality with legal benefits for gay partnerships. I don't care if it's called 'marriage' or not..."

"Well what about abortion?"

Without rehashing the whole conversation, I'll just tell you this-- that was the wrong can of worms to open. While Brick told me he was not particularly passionate about the issue, he did say that he thought abortion should be illegal. Reproductive rights have always been a litmus test issue for me, and I normally would have been happy to get into a lively debate with him on the matter. However, for anyone paying attention-- June 10th was the one year anniversary of the abortion I had, and I have been feeling very sad, nostalgic, and sensitive about the issue. On top of that, I feel like without the alcohol to lubricate and numb my brain, my normally sensitive disposition has increased tenfold.

I think that up to that point, I was in love with Brick as a friend and in love with the fact that I had a partner "just like me" in my sobriety. This was a "reality check." But at the time, it felt like a complete blow-- a punch in the stomach. I couldn't believe what I was hearing and I couldn't handle it. I tried to hold in the choke in my throat, and instead we kept on walking.

We were headed to Century 21, and when we got there, Brick began to apologize. Despite my reticence, it was clear that I was quite shaken, and Brick repeated over and over that he was not judging me and didn't mean to offend me in any way. I just couldn't hear it though. I remained sullen.

"It's fine. I don't want to talk about it anymore!" was all that I could muster.

But Brick brought it up again, if only to restate his apology. I felt the tears coming. Coming, coming... I had to go. I told him so.

"Wait, don't--"

But, it was too late. I was rushing out of the store and up towards Broadway. Brick followed me.

"Leave me alone," I called over my shoulder. "I just need some space!"

When I rounded the corner, I stopped and I began to sob. I wanted to see Narc. Narc! Narc! NARC! I wanted my life back... mySELF back. I wanted to be near him. I wanted him to envelop me. I squinted my reddening eyes up towards his building. I was only two blocks away. Should I go there? No. He won't like that. Just text him. Maybe he'll be home. Maybe he'll answer. Maybe...

I'm in your neighborhood. What's up...? I wrote.

He didn't answer. I called Hammer.

"What's wrong, Hydey?" She was concerned.

I spilled everything to her. I felt an unbearable emptiness.

"Come here, if you like," she said. "We can just hang out and chill and talk."

"I don't know... maybe I should go resolve this with Brick."

"Whatever you want. But I'll be here," she told me.

She is a very good friend.

In the meanwhile, Brick was sending me texts saying to call him when I was ready and that he "loves me." I wrote back to him that I would come back, providing we closed the subject. He agreed.

So, I went back. Narc had never answered. I ached because of that.

Brick and I finished up with his shopping and looked at a few handbags and shoes for me, but I didn't buy anything.

"What are you up to now?" I asked.

"Going to a meeting, I think. You?"

"I think I'm going to walk up to Hammer's place in the West Village."

"Okay. I'll walk you there."

We set off northward.

It was good to see Hammer. I hadn't hung out with her in quite some time, and it reaffirmed something in me just to be with her again. I feel so fragile lately that it's hard to hold on to pieces of myself without being reminded by the external.

Hammer wanted to show me a clip from Sex in the City in which "Mr. Big" was acting "Narcy."

"He is Narc!" she exclaimed.

I laughed.

Hammer was getting ready to go to a party out in Williamsburg with CurlyQ and some others. SoI just hung around and chatted with her while she did her thing. I was coming down with a sore throat (probably from all the cigarettes I've been smoking lately!) and my voice sounded raspy. I tried to take advantage of it and sing the Mimi parts from Rent.

When Hammer was ready to leave, I went with her and walked her to the subway.

"What are you doing now?" she asked. "Going to a meeting?"

"I don't know..." I was depressed and sullen. "I think I'll just take a walk for a little while."

I wanted to drink, but I knew I couldn't.

Just as I was bidding her farewell, my cell phone beeped. It was Narc!!!

"Hammer, wait! Look!"

Just back in from long lunch at Blue Goose. What up? he wrote.

"What are you going to do, Hyde?"

"Write back, of course!"

I was giddy.

Hammer laughed and descended into the underground. I scrambled to write back to Narc.

Still downtown, but now leaving Hammer. Meeting up with friends later but free for a few hrs. Wanna hang out?

N: Sure, on break. Come by.

H: K. Bringing my dinner. Just got subway...

I hadn't seen Narc since Memorial Day. I was excited and nervous, and didn't really want to think about the ramifications of what I was doing. I just hopped in a cab and went there.

When he answered the door, he seemed aloof. The apartment looked different. He had hung up small black cubes that were also votive candle holders. He had a new couch-- dark brown leather-- smaller and stiffer than the old couch. He also had a new table with four high stools made of black wood. He looked different too. His hair was cut.

I smiled casually and took my sandwich to the new black table. I sat and ate. A Will Farrell movie, Elf, was on TV. While I was eating, Brick called me to see if I were "okay." I told him I was at Narc's. He seemed concerned.

Suggestion... a meeting, he wrote, once we had hung up.

I asked Narc if he wanted a chip.

"No, thanks... I'm not eating that stuff anymore."

"What stuff?"

"Synthetic stuff. I'm on this new Buddhist diet... I should lend you the book."

He popped open a beer.

"I've also been off all hard alcohol."

"Wow, Narc! How long have you been at this for?"

"I don't know-- a month."

Wait...What??? I was with him ten days prior when he was at the Patriot eating hamburgers and drinking Jack Daniels.

"Wow," I said, pretending I didn't notice the discrepancy. "Have you lost any weight?"

"Yeah... like 15 or 18 pounds."

"Wow."

This was just bizarre.

Narc said he had to go into his bedroom to check some email. I finished my sandwich and sat on the couch waiting for him. He didn't come back. After some time, I went into the bedroom to find him.

"Narc! I'm bored," I called.

"Yeah... just give me a second, okay?"

I sat down on the bed. He stayed fixated on his computer. Finally, he finished whatever it was that he was doing.

"Did you see this Paris Hilton video?" he asked. "She's apparently trying to be a pop star now. It's some kind of crap pseudo-reggae."

"Weird..."

"PopStarChick sent me the clip. Oh, and there's a song I wanted to play you," he said.

He put on Malcolm McLaren's Madame Butterfly. I stretched out on the bed to listen to it. He climbed over me and lay on my other side. When the song ended, he got up and put on Debussy. It was beautiful.

Then, one thing led to another, etc, etc, etc... It was intense and perfect (?) and I felt like my former self-- a girl I haven't seen around in a few weeks. It was nice to have her back, if only for a few moments. Even if she was sick, I really do miss her! We lay together for an eternity afterwards. My mind was racing and content at once. I felt in love with him, but I also felt smarter than that, and very far away. I felt old and I felt new. I can't describe it any better than that.

When we finally stirred, I called Brick to make our plans for the evening. It was clear that Narc wanted me to stay the night. He mentioned some sort of Burning Man party that his friend was organizing. I invited him to come play pool with me and Brick, instead. There were flashes of lightning outside. The sky was crackling.

"Nah. I think I'll just stay here and play Tomb Raider," he said.

I felt guilty leaving him... Guilty, but good.

"I'm proud of us, Narc!" I said, as we wandered into the kitchen. "We're both being so healthy! I mean, I would never have imagined that we could be like this at the same time, in the depths of our debauchery!"

"Yeah, but I don't feel any better," he said. "I think I'd feel a lot better with four or five jack and diets in me..."

I laughed hard.

"Who wouldn't? But really... I'm sick of the blackouts. Aren't you? I'm so fucking sick of the blackouts."

He looked at me skeptically.

"It was a lot harder for me to stop than I thought it would be, Narc, but I'm glad I did."

"Really?" he said. "It was easy for me."

I don't think he's changed at all.

Brick called me a few more times to see if I was on my way.

"Well, anyway... I'm going to get going. But you're welcome to join us at any point tonight."

Was I really leaving him????

I gave him a good hug goodbye-- a real hug goodbye.

And I was out.

I was in a FABULOUS mood. It was just what I needed!

I took a cab up to Chelsea and picked Brick up on the corner. From there we headed to my place. Brick and I had one last conversation about our conflict earlier in the afternoon. He told me that it had all really shaken him too and that when he left me, he was dying to drink. I felt terrible that it had had such an impact on him. But I don't want to dwell on any of that negative stuff anymore...

Brick urged me not to take too long to get ready, so I hurried myself, preparing for the evening. Once I felt sufficiently "refreshed," we headed uptown to a bar with a pool table. The room smelled like "bar" when we walked in-- a perfume I can't quite describe in any other way. It triggered a longing in me. We moved to the back room and out to the garden to smoke cigarettes. Then it was back in to the pool table. I don't really know how to play, so Brick taught me. He won the game, but he said that I wasn't bad. After the one game, there wasn't much else to do there, so we left. We headed to a piano bar where the first pianist I met at the Townhouse works on the weekends.

This bar was a strange place. Some man came up to Brick when we entered and told him just that.

"How so?" Brick asked.

"Oh, you'll see!" he said.

There weren't many people there. We settled in at the piano with a handful of regulars. There was a skinny, sad looking drunk woman. She teaches, just like me, and I couldn't help but make the comparison. The pianist wouldn't leave Brick alone. He was all over him and was flirting in quite an off-putting, aggressively obnoxious fashion. It was making Brick uncomfortable. I sang a whole slew of songs, but then we decided to cut out early.

"Wanna go back to Monster?" Brick proposed. I agreed.

When we got there, many of the faces were familiar from the previous Thursday night. The pianist asked me to sing O Mio Babbino Caro again. Then one of the regulars came up to me to tell me how Deborah Voigt had once stopped by the piano bar and invited him and the pianist to come hear her sing in Tosca. I was impressed. I got a lot of attention for my singing, and Brick got a lot of attention from the men. So, it worked out well for both of us. That place always seems kind of surreal to me, and it was that same way again. But Brick and I laughed a lot and once again, drank a shitload of diet coke. I closed with two numbers from Carousel. Hooray!

At around 2:30 or 3:00 am, Brick wanted to go. We were both hungry. We found a nearby 24 hour diner and settled in for a late night "snack." Everything was going along fine until Brick spotted a familiar face at the counter. It was his ex-boyfriend. Without giving away too much about Brick's personal life-- the bottom line is that Brick was in love with this guy and the guy betrayed him and didn't treat him well. It was rough on him. Seriously-- it was a fucking hard day for both of us.

Brick's ex was getting takeout and left the diner before us, but even so, the mood had been soured. Our hot cab driver on the way home did a little to lift our spirits, but not quite enough. Back at my place, Brick sadly stretched out on my couch. It was after 4:00 in the morning. Brick sent his ex a text. Then we went to bed.

The next morning, I lay in bed feeling crappy. Even without a hangover, it's hard to get up in the morning when you're not running on enough sleep. Brick, however, was up bright and early and in touch with a few friends. I was still laying in bed when he came in to tell me that he was going to take off for a few hours to meet up with a friend and would be back later. I nodded sleepily and finally pulled myself out from under the covers in order to start straightening up the house. My mom was coming over for a day of "cleaning."

Anyway, you guys... once again, I'm exhausted from writing. I still have to finish Saturday and get through Sunday, but I'll leave it at that for now. I'm ALMOST there!

(I think I can, I think I can...)

Lots of love,

hyde

PS: Today is my half birthday. I'm 27 and a half! Time flies, doesn't it???