Phantasmagoria

So... Where was I? Ah, yes. Narc's announcement of his intention to marry PopStarChick.

I couldn't believe my ears. I smiled at him in spite of the welling pain.

"You're crazy," I laughed. "Absolutely crazy."

I got up out of bed and went into the bathroom to catch my breath and make sure that I stayed composed. I sent a few texts to my confidants...

He's marrying her, I wrote.

Then I went back and got back into bed. Narc was laying in bed again. I had sex with him again. Why? Because I was confused and I obviously have no self esteem.

"Don't marry her," I said. "It's not right. It's not right for you."

"Well, it's not concrete or anything," he answered. "It's not happening this week. We're only scheduling the interview which wouldn't be for another month. I'd have to go back there in another month or so for that."

"Narc, this is crazy! A day ago and you were telling me that you guys weren't even 'exclusive' and that you didn't know if she wanted to date you because she was seeing all of those 'hip-hop executives' before she left town, and now you're engaged?"

"Well, we're kind of boxed in," he laughed.

I could tell he felt really awkward about the whole thing-- as if he suddenly felt stupid once he had bounced the idea off of another person.

"You're not boxed in," I protested.

"I am. If I want to date her, she's gotta be here. And she can't get back in unless I marry her, so..."

"That can't be true!" I insisted. "There has to be another way. What about a student visa? Can't she just enroll somewhere to get back in here?"

"She's not a student; she's a singer," he said, dryly. "I just don't understand why they don't let her come back! I mean, she has a life here-- an apartment, a career... it makes no sense."

"I don't know," I sighed. "But what you're doing doesn't make much sense either. You're going to marry her in order to date her?"

"I kind of promised her that I would... She was really paranoid about going back to Russia, but she hasn't seen her family in two years. So, I told her to go and that if she got stuck, I promised to save her."

"That's ridiculous," I rolled my eyes. "So, you promised to marry her 'just in case,' and then oops! She actually needs you to do it?!?"

I looked at him dubiously.

"Don't look at me like that," he laughed again.

"Like what?"

"Like that! It's not such a bad idea, Hyde..."

"Okay... whatever you say..."

I shot him another look. Then we both lay there in silence.

"So... Is it going to be hard for me to learn Russian?" he asked.

"Why do you have to learn Russian?"

"Because I'm going there this week. Am I going to be able to get around?"

"Russian's not the kind of thing you can learn in a week, Narc. It's a hard language. There are six cases! And especially if you don't know the alphabet."

"What do you mean?"

"Cyrillic..."

I rolled over to the edge of the bed and grabbed my journal up out of my bag.

"I'll show you," I said.

I turned over onto my stomach, writing his name out for him in Cyrillic.

"That's my name?" he raised his eyebrows. "I'm gonna die over there!"

"It's only for a week! And you're going to visit a native. Plus you'll be in Moscow. I'm sure they're used to foreign visitors by now... You'll be fine. Wanna see my name?"

I spelled my name out in Cyrillic as well.

"Let me write your name for you in Japanese," he said.

He took the pen and drew something out.

"I haven't done this stuff in so long... I think that's right, though."

Anyway, the rest of the afternoon kind of went on like that... I felt close to him. Intimate. But with a pulsing nauseated pain in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to freeze time. I could feel myself disappearing... like that scene in Back to the Future when Marty's hand starts to fade. Everything in me was fading...as if I didn't exist without my "Narc-narrative."

I didn't want to leave his side, even though I had to teach in the morning. By the time we migrated into the living room, though, it was dark out. So... we ended up back in bed.

"Don't get married," I said, after we had sex again.

He didn't answer. I sighed.

"So... I guess this is the last time I'm going to come see you like this," I said tentatively. "I mean, if you're married, I can't sleep with you anymore. This is all over..."

"I don't know what's going to happen," he answered. "I really don't. I doubt this is going to be the last time that I see you, Hyde! I mean, who knows how things are going to work out between me and PopStarChick!"

(Inside, I was starting to boil-- so, everything between me and Narc has to hinge on whether or not PopStarChick wants him? ARGHH!!!! On the outside, I smiled at him. Classic Hyde.)

"You know that I love you, right?"

"I love you too," he said, kissing me. "I really do. And I promise I won't get married this week. Like I said-- I don't even know if it's going to work out between us."

"Why would you marry her then?"

"She doesn't have the time for me," he went on, ignoring my question. "When we were in Florida, I asked her about those parties she goes to for 'work'-- where she stays out until 4:00 in the morning with all those rappers... why I wouldn't be invited along, etc. She said that it's important for her career to appear single. I asked her what she's doing with them... She seemed casual about it all."

I just lay there listening to him.

"I asked her if that meant that I could fuck around with the actresses and models I'll be auditioning for my movies, and she said it was fine. 'Fuck whoever you want,' she said. 'Just don't fall in love.' So... I don't know how she feels about things."

This was all very interesting for me. First of all, Narc is a Romantic, like me (even though he insists he's a classicist and that I won't love his screenplay as much as he does because it's 'too classical' for my tastes). And second of all, it is SO FUCKING CLEAR that she is using him for marriage but wants nothing to do with a relationship! Why doesn't he see that? I certainly wasn't going to press the issue. I just snuggled him and listened.

"When she was here," he continued, "I only saw her every ten days or so. She's so hard core about her career. It's like she doesn't really have time. But if we're going to be really serious with each other, I want a real relationship-- someone to spend time with, you know? She would have to put more into it..."

"Don't get married!" I laughed, climbing out of bed and pulling on my clothes. I wanted to end the conversation.

"Going somewhere?" he asked.

"Maybe we should get out of the house? Get some ice cream or something?"

He agreed. It must have been 11:00 pm or so at this point.

My original plan was to pick up some Ben & Jerry's, but Narc decided he wanted to go to the Blaue Gans instead. So, that's where we went. My dessert was truly amazing-- some delightful concoction of homemade hazelnut ice cream, caramel sauce and meringue.

It was the conversation that we had over ice cream that has been sticking with me all week. I can't remember it clearly enough to really approximate it here on the blog. I don't think I want to. Why not? Because it wasn't scripted for once. Narc and I were both being real. We talked about real things. Our personal existential crises, our fear of change. We both acknowledged that we are addicted, in a way, to each other, but that it's not what we want.

"Don't get married," I said.

"Why not?" he smiled.

"Because... And this is really none of my business, Narc... But I love you. And... Well... I see you, Narc. And I know that you have a huge well of stuff inside of you-- an enormous spiritual tangle."

"You could put it that way," he said grimly.

"And... I don't know..." I was starting to flounder. "It's just that... since I've known you there have been points when you've been sad... really sad. And you've known her now for over a year. But you never considered her a support in those times. I remember you saying that if you died, only CouchSleeper and I would miss you... and that you had no one to call. If you couldn't even call her as a friend when you were sad, how can you depend on her?"

"I don't know," he said quietly.

"I mean... can you lean on her? Will she be there for you? That's all..."

"Yes, I can," he said with sudden new strength. "She's great."

"Okay. Well, I just worry about you."

He didn't answer.

"And also, Narc... if I can't see you anymore... I mean, if this all works out in a way in which you and I aren't in touch... I want you to know that if you ever really need me that you can call me. I will always be there for you." I could feel the tears coming up in my eyes, a tight sob in my throat. I could feel my cheeks turning red. "You will always have a place in my heart no matter where I am in the world..."

He looked at me strangely.

"Thanks," he said.

There was a pregnant pause.

"But that's not gonna happen," he laughed, again suddenly. "We're not gonna fall out of touch."

"If you get married, I don't see how we can continue on like this..."

"We can be friends," he smiled, taking a spoonful of ice cream.

"Friends?"

"Friends."

"But Narc! If we're going to be friends, we have to be really friends."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know! Just that, if I'm your friend, it shouldn't be a problem for me to hang out with your other friends! For me to be invited to your events... for us to exist in a world outside of the secret bubble of late night rendezvous in your apartment. I mean, if we're really just friends, at some point, I should be able to hang out with you and your girlfriend! Otherwise, it's not a clean relationship."

"I don't know if that's ever going to happen," he answered. "I don't think I would want the two of you hanging out."

"Well, that's exactly my point. And I can't sit around waiting to see how it's going to turn out for you."

"I just wish you had some fabulous guy, and I were happy with PopStarChick and we could go on in each other's lives," he said.

"Well, some 'fabulous guy' won't be happening for me anytime soon."

"Why not? I thought you were dating and stuff?"

"That was back in February, Narc! I can't... I just can't do it right now. Like I told you a few weeks ago-- I can't have sex with anyone else when I love you. I have no interest in anyone else. TT is still floating around with persistence, and all I can feel is a sort of pity that he doesn't give up."

"That's no good, Hyde. You need to find someone who wants to give you everything you deserve."

"I guess I'm just not so good at accepting love. It's hard for me to let myself be loved."

"I'm the same way," he said.

"Yeah... I know," I laughed.

"I'm not marrying her this week," he insisted again. "I'll email you when I get there. I promise. I'll let you know what's going on."

"And when you're back?"

"I'll call you when I'm back. I promise. I'll keep you posted. Nothing's happening yet. I don't know," he went on. "Either this is something real or she's the most amazing actress I've ever met."

"I wouldn't put it past her, Narc... it's a little convenient."

"No," he said to himself. "It can't be that. She has no guile in her."

He must have known he was lying to himself. Meanwhile, in the middle of all this, my phone rang. It was Brick and so I picked it up.

"Did you leave his place?" he asked.

"No. I'm still there."

Brick was very upset that I had stuck around with Narc. He thought it was really bad for my self-esteem and awful for my sobriety. Not to mention the fact that since I had met up with Narc on Saturday, I hadn't called my sponsor or gone to a meeting. Brick kept insisting that I leave Narc's place.

"We're out for ice cream right now. I'll call you back," I said.

When I hung up with Brick, Narc asked what it was all about.

"He doesn't think I should be here," I told him flat out. "He thinks it's bad for my self esteem and bad for my sobriety."

"Bad for your sobriety? That's ridiculous, Hyde! We're not even drinking!"

"No, but this all makes me sad... And being sad brings me closer to drinking."

"Did you tell Brick about the marriage thing?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, God! He must think I'm a terrible person... the most awful person!"

"It doesn't matter what Brick thinks," I said, trying to soothe him. But I was glad that Narc knows how fucked up this looks from an outside perspective.

Anyway, Brick called me back a few minutes later, even more insistent that I leave.

"Do I have to come down there and get you, Hyde?" he demanded.

"No! I'm fine."

I was starting to get annoyed.

"But this is not putting sobriety first," he said.

"I don't care," I retorted. "I'm doing this anyway."

That scares me, but it was the truth.

Finally, I managed to get Brick to leave me alone by promising to call my sponsor. As it was already around 1:00 am, I decided to spend the night with Narc again and go straight to teaching from there. Luckily, I had left my lecture notes in the office, so there was no need to stop back at my place (except the fact that I was wearing the same clothes from Saturday!).

Back at the apartment, we watched a little TV and then climbed into bed together. I felt so close to him. More sex. But there was a gnawing voice in the back of my head, screaming to be heard, but muffled as if buried in mounds of soft dirt.

Get OUT, Hyde! Get OUT! it said. This isn't good enough for you. This hurts, it hurts, it FUCKING HURTS!!!!! IT HUUUUUUUUURTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I had to keep that voice away. I didn't want to know how much it hurt. That voice made it hard for me to breathe... made me want to cut myself. I didn't like it. I stifled it, snuggling down into Narc's side. I went to sleep.

The next morning, I got up bright and early. I went about getting dressed. While I was drying my hair, Narc came into the bathroom, in a daze. For a moment, I forgot that he expected me to leave. Narc got back into bed. I finished my hair.

I wrote him a note and left it on his wallet before I kissed him goodbye.

Narc,

Have a safe trip. Please be careful with your heart.
Let me know where things are at.

Love you,
Hyde.

I took a picture of myself with my cell phone. I was still afraid that I might disappear.

For the rest of the day (Monday), I did my best to pretend that I was sane and not dying on the insides. I got through teaching two classes and then a visit to the gynecologist (yuck!) where I had some good news, of a nature not to be discussed on this blog. Then I had therapy at 4:00.

My therapist poked at this. She confronted my repression. I didn't like it. I felt strangely cold and cracking at the same time. When the hour was up, I was a wreck.

"I think you need some more time," she said. "Can you come back at 7:00?"

"Yeah."

"You're okay," she reassured me. "You're in survival mode. You'll deal with this when you're ready to."

I left there bewildered. The wind was biting at my cheeks and the hordes of people on 34th street bustled about like an alien species. I felt like I was seeing things... spinning. I couldn't get my mind to focus. And that crushing feeling in my chest was only getting worse. I didn't want to be alone.

I remembered that Bezoukhoff is often at the library these days, and as my therapy is very near to school, I gave him a call. He was, in fact, nearby and agreed to meet me for dinner, as I had two hours to kill. We went for Korean food. Bezoukhoff again insisted on paying for me. I told him that he has a real problem. After all, he had just bought me all that sheet music on the previous Saturday and was refusing to take payment for the books I got at Barnes & Noble that he had put on his card.

"Just consider it practice for letting someone treat you well," he said.

"It makes me uncomfortable," I mumbled. "But thanks. I really do appreciate it."

After that, we went out for bubble tea and red bean buns. While we were eating, my mom called with an update about my prior therapist. I don't know if you recall, but things ended badly between us, and as my mom owes her some money, she filed a law suit. The amount of money is minimal, and she made no attempts to collect it in a normal way, so all of this is clearly for spite. My mom is a lawyer and was so pissed off about all of it that she reacted by trying to make things as difficult for my therapist as possible.

"You won't believe it!" my mom exclaimed on the phone. "She's a fucking bitch! And she was supposed to be there for you?!?! The lawyer just called me... he said that he knows that you are working so they can garnish your wages. I told him that you're on a teaching fellowship. He can't sue me for anything. But can you believe her? She knows you're in recovery! All of this could have been done nicely. This is all her issue!"

I felt like I was going to collapse. That was the last straw.

"Mom, I don't want to hear about this right now!"

"I thought you would find it amusing..."

"Amusing? How is it amusing that a woman that I trusted for nine years is showing no tenderness towards me at all?!?"

"Honey... is something wrong?"

"Yes, something's wrong! Narc is going to marry a Russian whore! And he only told me after I slept with him!"

Well... that left my mom speechless. I don't ever confide in my mom about what's going on with me.

"I don't know if this will help, but--" she began.

"No, mom. It won't help," I interrupted. "You can't fix this. I know you want to, but you can't. And I really don't want to talk about. I just didn't want to lie either. I'm sick of lying and pretending to be okay."

"Where are you now?"

"With Bezoukhoff, going back for another hour of therapy in a few."

"Ok. Well, call me when you get home, sweetie... just to check in, alright? We don't have to talk about anything in particular at all."

So, that was Monday. Tuesday was miserable. I sent Narc a text:

Don't get married, I wrote.

Not committing to anything this trip out, he answered. Saw Lucas on Colbert's green screen challenge. Good stuff.

Ok. I am just worried about you. Because I love you, I wrote. Glad you caught the Colbert. :)

And that was that.

At 7:20, when his plane left, I was at an AA meeting. It hurt.

After the meeting, I desperately wanted to go home and isolate, but I pushed myself. I went out with the same group of women I had dined with the Tuesday before. I was glad I did it. It helped.

But, nothing could help completely.

Anyway, that completes my sorely needed catch-up blogging.

As for what's been going on this week? It's been crazy. I feel crazy.

B told me that Tower Records at Lincoln Square is closing because Tower has gone out of business. It made me inexplicably sad. Well... actually, more anxious than sad. B and I used to browse around there all the time, as when we lived together, we were on West 71st Street. I felt like if the store disappeared, so would I. My whole life-- an illusion. I made us pay a visit to Tower for one last browse around the Classical section, playing all of the silly word-games we used to play. I made him take a picture of me next to the faded cardboard cut-out of Maria Callas. (Apparently, I'm not the only one in mourning for their fabulous classical section!)

Later on in the week, he told me that La Caridad was closing down, too-- a restaurant we used to frequent all the time. So, yesterday, we went back there for lunch, induced by the same nostalgic panic in me. Luckily, the restaurant is not closing, but merely downsized.

When B came over to my house the other day with takeout food, I wanted him to say the ritual thing he always used to say while unloading the food from the bag. Why? I don't know.

And then, yesterday, I went ahead and emailed OldChoirMan, dragging up all of that shit from the past into my heart all over again.

I've been thinking about this in therapy, and it's strange... I feel like all I am is narrative. And if you remove the narratives, and peel back the layers, there is nothing there. I don't exist at the core. And that's why I'm so terrified to let go of Narc. He is my narrative right now. It's also why I blog. And yet, as soon as something disappears into the past, I barely believe that it happened. My mind, my memory, my reality, all of it blurs in phantasmagoria. If I don't remember dates, if I don't save things, (ice cream lids, matchbooks, drunken notes), I don't believe it happened. If it's not reinforced for me over and over, I am so easily convinced to discard reality. Reality doesn't matter to me. If Narc says that he has stopped drinking, even though I saw him drink the day before, I congratulate him. It's crazy. Sometimes I think that if B moved away because of a job and we lost touch and he told me that"it's normal" because we were never that close to begin with, I might be fooled into believing him. I don't trust myself at all. Either that, or I don't care. I've always thought of myself as a strong woman, a survivor, with an eccentric character and strong interests. But what I'm finding is that it is all an illusion. If I stop pretending, I'm nothing. And that scares the shit out of me.

Anyway, I'll leave you with a verse from Pierrot's Tanzlied, an aria from the opera I saw last week.

I followed [him], my wonderful sweetheart,
and I learned to kiss from tears
Intoxication and misery,
Ah, this is a clown's destiny.

My yearning, my obsession,
they take me back in dreams.

PS: I know he got back into town last night. Haven't heard from him... Not a word. And he never replied to my email. I'm sitting tight.