The Last 48 Hours: Saturday
I woke up today thinking of her. It’s been like this for a while, although it still seems strange. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this ‘love’ thing, whatever the hell it is anyway. I lie in bed for a little bit, playing over and over again in my mind what it will be like when I finally go see her. Of course I’m still nervous. The very idea of that first meeting makes my stomach churn like a cement mixer. Oh wait, that was last night. Shit, I forgot I didn’t get home till five in the morning, and I had a big mix with gin in it right before I went to bed. I hate gin. Why do I do this to myself? I decide to spontaneously break out into song: “you do it to yourself, it’s true, and that’s why it really hurts.” Ah Radiohead, great song, great video… I’ve always wondered what that guy said at the end of the video to doom all those people to perpetual inertia. I think he probably just explained the history of the human race. Despite my throbbing headache and churning stomach, I fall back to sleep with a smile on my face.
I decide to crawl out of bed, more out of hunger than anything else. Nasty taste in my mouth, so I brush my teeth, much better. Water too, cold water, even better. Now that I’m on my feet, the thought of food is much less appealing. I decide to forgo breakfast and shuffle downstairs to see if she is online. She isn’t. Something needs to be done about my stomach, so I come to the conclusion that a banana is probably the only thing I can handle right now. I return to my lair and play a couple of rounds of counter-strike to pass the time.
She’s here (well, not next to me, yet). After the perfunctory greeting I tell her how hung over I am and receive no sympathy. That’s okay, I didn’t expect any. We talk about this, that, and the other thing. I think I’m getting a little better at this domesticity thing. Not every conversation has to be epic, not every conversation can be epic. Maybe someday I’ll be able ask her how she’s doing without having to arrange the words properly beforehand (How goes it, What the hell kind of a greeting is that anyway?). She says she has some errands to run, I’m disappointed but patient, we’ll have tons of time to talk later on. I make the decision to blow off all my friends tonight to spend some quality time with my raison d’etre.
Jay calls me to play some basketball, realizing she won’t be back for a few hours, I decide to indulge. I gather a team together (me, Kevin from Toronto, Jay and his brother) and head to Ted’s place. I hope he doesn’t mind us coming over to use his basketball court all the time. Ah, wait, Jay’s friend Christina (who has a crush on Ted) decides to come along. Excellent, now he will have no complaints. We play some two on two and Kev and I just destroy Jay and his brother early on. Both Jay and Kev are a lot better than I am, but occasionally I can make some good things happen. Basketball allows me to forget about her, at least for an hour or so. It’s not that I want to forget about her, it’s just nice to turn off my brain for at least an hour a day. Man, I think too much. On the way home I tell Kevin about my plan to go visit her in Oklahoma, he says: “that’s very un-marc-like”. He’s right.
I return home. Expectation is rising. I haven’t been able to talk with her all night long in years. I hope for another evening until sunrise kind of talk, like we used to do. Once again, I check online before eating, I’ve got my priorities straight. Food keeps me alive, sure, but she is my reason for living. I have no other use for this worthless life of mine without her, so food comes after. She’s not online yet. Oh well, I go eat some supper (stew, AGAIN). To stop the nerve impulses shooting around in my head I play some counter-strike. And I wait.
Still waiting. Garret calls me and wants to hang out for a bit, I tell him I’m busy. I explain to him why, and hope he understands. Of course he will, he knows what it’s like to be in love. Unfortunately for him, the love of his life is already married. That’s a pretty big obstacle to conquer. An even bigger obstacle than being in different countries. I feel sorry for the guy and vow to say something nice next time I see him. My thoughts drift back to her. Where is she? I really like having someone else to think about for a change. Now it doesn’t even matter if I’m happy or not, as long as she’s okay I will be fine. She gives me courage, courage to face this bubbling cesspool known as earth. This vice-ridden society. This evil human nature. All of that ceases to exist when she is around. Even I cease to exist. This is what I’ve been looking for all these years. Denial of the ego, nihilistic self-abnegation. I always thought drugs were the only thing that could help me escape, who knew that love could do it as well, and be so much sweeter? Now, where is she?
Still waiting. I attempt to down a beer to pass the time, but I still haven’t recovered properly from last night. What could she be doing? I check to see if any good movies are on, and voila, Amelie is on CBC tonight. Thank god for the Canadian Broadcasting Company. I’ve always wanted to see Amelie but nobody would ever want to watch it with me. This is a much better way to pass the time than forcing beers down my throat. I begin watching and know instantly that I will love this movie. The description of Amelie’s parents is just perfect; they both have serious problems but are still somehow likeable characters, so human, so real. So unlike Hollywood movies. Families are dysfunctional sometimes (well, maybe all the time). I laugh when Amelie’s mother dies, only those twisted French people could instill so much irony into a tragic death as to make it funny. Real life can be both tragic and funny at the same time as well. I need to go to France sometime, their train stations are more architecturally pleasing than anything I’ve ever seen in Canada. The homeless man who turns down Amelie’s money because he doesn’t work on Sundays, just perfect. Movies like this make life worth living. And her, of course, where is she?
Still watching Amelie and waiting. I actually kind of hope that she won’t show up until the film is over, I have to watch the rest of this now. But then again, what if she doesn’t show up at all tonight? I retract my previous thought and continue to wait.
Beautiful, the only way to describe that film. The ending gave me goose bumps. I love that feeling. I wish there was some way I could be constantly feeling like that. The way the director played with my emotions at the final scene. When Amelie is imagining her love approaching her, then the tapestry behind her moves and it’s just her cat. And then she runs outside to catch him and he’s waiting outside her door. There’s no word in the English language that can properly describe that. I guess you could say ‘love’ but love means so many different things to so many different people. Ah, love. Where is she? I need to tell her how much I care, how much I appreciate her, how much I will enjoy finally getting to meet her. I keep jumping back and forth from depression to happiness. I just don’t think I’ll ever be as happy as Amelie was at the end. That was just too perfect… makes me feel inadequate. If I could just talk with her for one minute she’d be able to calm me down. Oh well, I’m sure she will show up eventually.
12:00 am: Bad thoughts are starting to enter my head, but I fight them back valiantly. What if she forgot about me? That would never happen. What if she’s with some other guy? Don’t be ridiculous. What if she’s sick or worse? No. She’s fine. Damn, I must be a schizophrenic or something. I think sometimes she brings out my schizophrenic side. A conversation with her can be like a roller coaster ride. Just when I think I’m safe and she’s happy, another huge dip in the track followed by a loop-de-loop and then a corkscrew thrown in for good measure. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining; I will never, ever get sick of that. As long as she still loves me. Whatever, she doesn’t even have to love me; she just has to be around. Where the hell is she?
1:00 am: I’m so bored. After that beautiful film everything seems so trivial. I can’t even play counter-strike. She’s still not here. No point in waiting till morning, I guess I’ll just go to bed. I’m going to give her hell for this tomorrow. Who I am kidding, of course I won’t. There must be some explanation. But what could it be? I go upstairs and crawl into bed. Don’t worry; I keep saying to myself, it’s probably just some computer problem. I will phone her tomorrow. Apparently I’ve reassured myself enough: I fall asleep easily and dreamlessly.