Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in blueyesmile's LiveJournal:

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Friday, February 10th, 2006
11:31 am	“Eggplant Patties,” or “Attack of the Firefighters” Dinner Party #1 Chez KJ et moi: What began as brie, bread, wine, and dinner dissolved into a full-out 90’s dance party in front of the giant mirror in the living room. Amongst the scattered candles and bubbling mini fountain we ate pesto, tomato, and shaved mozarella bruschetta, eggplant and chickpea cakes flavored with garlic and oregano, pasta with red sauce, fresh salad, mushrooms in citrus sauce, and warm apple crisp. It was downed with Orangina and wine drank from disposable champagne flutes while singing along to Tracy Chapman, Eva Cassidy, The Foundations, and Tyrese while discussing the decade that was the 90s. I don’t recall if it was Sally or Thea or Camilla who started grooving first, but when I walked back in the room there was a great deal of swaying and singing. The dishes were left to rot and I joined in. La Scala has a line out the door and girls in Chanel. I voice this concern to Mica. “Jess, we are A-ME-RIC-AN. I got this.” The five of us join hands and cut the entire line, getting right in. It felt like a little bit of Fishco, but a greater triumph due to the intimidating clientele. We enter a three-floor complex of mirrors and balconies and chic round tables surrounded by low-lying couches. We select one of the latter and Thea takes out a cigarette while we talk.... Accosted by Americans- well, he’s British but he went to GDA- and his French friend, who actually has a sailor’s hat with a pom-pom on it (“student night, costume party” he said). He and Mica hit it off and talk while leaning over the little table...Sally and Thea decide to go home; Thea stayed up till 4am last night and Sally has to get up early to teach the "Genevieves," two posh Parisian, Chanel-wearing women in their 70s who ask her to translate the "Jackie O handbook." Seriously. The three remaining single women descend the lit-up stair case to the slightly overwhelming main dance floor. Two painfully attractive tall-dark-and-handsomes glide by and appear throughout the evening on my periphery; at times I think one is looking at me but I get scared and so continue to dance with Camilla and Frinny. “Je suis pompier.” Apparently that is one of the most puissant pick up lines in France. He told me this before he told me his name, with his angular French noise jutting near my face and sweat pouring from his blonde fluffy hair down his forehead. He looked at me expectantly, as if watching for my face to change. “Ah vraiment?” Camilla and Frinny’s were pompiers, too. All three awkward dancers, but the girls confessed that the knowledge of their life-saving abilities made them infinitely sexier and less awkward. Mica’s pom-pom man even insisted that “they must be lying, they are just trying to pick up women by saying they are firefighters.” Then he saw their special fireman cards and stopped questioning the extent of their manliness. Apparently they even have fireman’s balls in France...All this did not excuse the way that my little pompier was looking at me nor shake the fact that he strongly resembled a character in “Chicken Run.” When he repeatedly tried to kiss me after I had begun twirling and turning more to avoid his eyes boring into mine; I stopped dancing point-blank and got myself a drink. Nine Euros for the most pitiful Sex on the Beach ever later, I rejoin my girls and dance in an odd sort of circle where Frinny is still with the cutest of the pompiers and Camilla and I sway in orbit, though the mysterious tall and swarthy man keeps catching my eye and I look away in shyness. He orbits closer. He’s behind me. We danced from that point until 6am, though the latter hours were spent talking exhausted by a little table. He’s an engineering student, 22 (finally of normal age) with big brown eyes, broad shoulders and beautiful skin. Sofiane (his parents are Arab.) He speaks almost perfect English but we speak in French. He wants to go the US to obtain his Master’s. He lives with his family in the North of Paris; two older married siblings and a younger one. He respects his mother and I want to see him again. He stayed by me until 6, half an hour after his friend came by to ask if he was ready to leave because they were... So he has nice friends, too. Kept looking back when we said goodbye and then I was out in the street before dawn, kicked out of the club with Frinny and Camilla because it was 6am and closing time. Our first time being kicked out of a real European boite. We are finally becoming French in partying habits. We walked home in our painful heels with sweaty skin and too-big coats covering up our dancing attire, hair matted and mascara god knows where but if felt so good. Sofiane just texted me as I’m writing this: “salut beaute. G pa arrete 2 pense a toi...” tomorrow? J’espere... (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, February 6th, 2006
7:22 pm	Getting lost in the Sex District at 1am and Other Tales Professional Soccer player for Cannes in the south of France with a baby face like Pharell says he thinks our children will be beautiful. Calls me “ma femme.” Interessant. He sat by me and talked from 9pm until midnight when we left, without paying for a single one of my drinks. Quelle gentilhomme. They take themselves as serious lovers while coming off as so stereotypically, terribly... French. At least he didn’t smoke in my face like poor Kiersten’s mec. KJ was similarly accosted by slightly balding man attempting to mask his lack of hair follicles with a .....ready?....black beret. Yes. Amazing. And I took beaucoup des photographs. She claims that she told him she had a boyfriend at home who holds the keys to her heart so they just talked about the issue of global unemployment instead. That is why I love her. Walking home I somehow led KJ and I, seule, through the local “Sex District.” Neon signs for “Sex Shop” and “Sexy place” were partout, sprinkled with blown-up photographs of overly made-up drag queens and bare-chested women in their thirties. Awesome. There was a lot of glistening liquid in the rue, but we decided not to question what it was, and instead walked quickly due partly to this mystery liquid and also to the fact that seedy types were following us for God knows how long. Paris at night, it can be so....sketchy. That is why we bought crepes at one am filled with cheese and nutella. Nothing like ducking in a cafe for comfort food and les toilettes to evade stalkers that stink of urine and alcohol. Home to Bertin Poiree to telephone Rahim on his 21st birthday while sipping Orangina and missing his voice. I can’t wait till he and the gang come to visit, I think getting lost in the Sex District would be a lot funnier with 10 people as opposed to 2 slightly buzzed American females who have already had their dose of sketchy for the evening. Bonsoir. (Comment on this)
Sunday, February 5th, 2006
4:23 pm	Learning to Play Poker 10 of my friends from Brown are coming for Spring Break!!!!!!!! I am much pleased. Showering is going to be interesting in an appartment full of bodies but if I have to be smelly to hang out with the Brown crew, then damnit I am so in. I miss those kids. Talked to Steph and Mags and StephII and Katie today and it was like we never even left. ...And Then there was Regis. Green-eyed, dimpled, dark-haired Lawyer in a suit and slightly unbuttoned white top. Saw him through the smoke at the Sangria bar and it took me an entire pitcher of the red stuff sprinkled with cinnamon to gather the courage to say "bonsoir" as I walked by him to the door. It wasn't until I was almost a block away on the sidewalk that I heard "pardon, mademoiselle." He asked for my number, coatless, and as I walked with the girls through the cold afterwards I fought the urge to look back and smiled at the ground instead. He called the next day while I was at Alex's dinner party. I declined but he suggested tomorrow... So tomorrow it was, and I saw him before he saw me, his back as he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other in front of the metro sortie, facing away from me and towards the street. He was in one of those black dress coats with a briefcase on his shoulders, what KJ would call a "French man purse." I was almost afraid to approach but then he noticed me standing there in my black coat and the French cheek kissing ritual ensued. Off to an Australian bar for happy hour, where we sipped rum and fruit concotions from glasses and discused Segalene Royale and French politics, Bush, modern art (his favorite artist is Klein) and even literature and film- in French. I'd be fine as we talked but then he'd go to the bathroom or get our drinks at the bar and I'd realize I was talking politics to an older French man and wonder how the hell I got here and I'd get nervous all over again. It went so well he proposed dinner and we dined in front of a glass wall overlooking Les Halles, where we ate big green salads (the first thing green I'd had in months) and he said he was happy that I appreciated similar types of food. That's when he began telling me recipes I could make with KJ when he heard she was vegetarian...hmm, and he can cook? He said his friends go out Thursday nights and would I like to come? "Au Six Seven" didn't get really started until later, so one more bar near Chatelet where there was red velvet on the ceiling and my B-52 came on fire and his margarita was blue. He kissed me over the little table with the candle in the middle. When we got off the metro near the club I realized we were on the Champs Elysees and it was nighttime and the Arc de Triumph was lit up like fireworks. "Au-Six-Seven" was full of the 20-30 something after-work business suit crowd, and I swear to God I saw a few models in their heels and black skirts... I was wearing a turtleneck and felt it distinctly. He led me right to the center of the room and introduced me to all of his friends, mostly girls (ok, so maybe he is too good to be true and he's gay?) He can dance too, although he sang along to 80s and 90s American songs that most Americans would be embarassed to even listen to in the first place. Then again, so did everyone else in the room. Ok, so I sang back to "Summer Nights" from Grease. It was apparent that he did not understand all of the words and pulled one of those "sounds-like" things in his head. It was kind of cute and it made me feel slightly cooler. Champagne at the bar while I talked to one of his female friends, who answered my questions in English and told me that he was a "nice guy" when I asked. Alone later in the taxi home, I flew past the Seine in 3am city lights and I have never felt so alive as when the Grand Palais and the Petit Palais flashed by and the docked house boats twinkled with lights strung up for boat parties. I kept smiling and then catching my goofy reflection in the cab window. I got home and saw KJ asleep, so stayed up writing for awhile by candlelight. He called the next day and we saw "Brokeback mountain" with French subtitles. He wore sneakers and a tight James-esque t-shirt and held my hand just for a second. I'm not sure what's going on. He's borderline too old for me and half the time I feel older and the rest, well just ask KJ how mature I am...Though he still has a stuffed rabbit he's had since infancy. Cute or creepy? He has Frenchman glasses he wears at night and when he eats pain au chocolat he gets the crumbs everywhere. He speaks English and saw Coldplay in November. We took turns explaining lyrics to songs in our respective native languages and even had a "metro moment" where I began to quote one of those lame little Metro poems they post- "Poem Sale"- and he finished my sentence. Last night was spent at Kiersten's French friend Marie's appartment. It was there, in a room full of smoke despite the opened door and window thanks to mid-20s doctorate students in French jeans and various shades of black, hair slightly tousled in a good way, that I learned how to play poker of the "Texas Round-Up" variety. In French. And in case you are wondering, "fold" is "je me couche." After 6 hours of French conversations on politics and the politics of the French having sex before blowjobs and Americans prefering the latter, I felt like "me couching" myself...that's going to bed for those whose minds have wandered due to previous sentence topics. Cab ride home around 2:30 and bed. Cafe Benjamin with its big leather chairs in the morning and a day spent writing a paper on Manet's Olympia, which I spent all Saturday day observing (amongst other of my favorite paintings) at the Musee d'Orsay.I still have the big full-color book of paintings in the museum on my desk and it effuses new-book smell. Mmm. Kiersten and KJ are here and it's time for some Sex and the City viewing. Bonsoir. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, January 30th, 2006
6:20 pm	Carrie and Aidan So the girls and I cooked tonight and my skin still smells like lemons and garlic and a little bit of cinnamon and brown sugar from the plates we licked clean :). There are candles burning everywhere and it's midnight and I should be in bed but I'm here by the window again. We spent the night in in blankets watching Old Sex and the City Episodes, the ones when Carrie was really happy and herself and I thought of waking up on the 9th floor in Providence after sleeping in until noon and having eggs cooked on toast, safe from the snow outside for a little while. It never snows here (Comment on this)
Sunday, January 29th, 2006
4:25 pm	"The Hyacinth that was meant to be a Puppy" So Friday. The Louvre at night and dinner at "Hippo," followed by Salsa until 3:30 am when I couldn't feel my legs and I felt like my whole body was pulsing salsa beats involuntarily. I somehow could'nt quite stop thinking of the mummy of a young priest that I had seen on display earlier; I wondered if he ever dared to dream that his body would be gawked at behind glass by visitors with flash cameras and questioning kids. I was calmed by the smooth marble statues as we exited the Palais De Louvre; There was a statue of a young girl reading and she reminded me of Jenny so I took a picture. I slept most of Saturday, waking only for bread and writing and a trip to the movies to see "The King." Gael Garcia Bernal can never, ever be the same for me. Today has been homey and wonderful. After waking up at 9 to make 10am mass at Notre Dame with KJ (we just made it), we found a tiny cafe which served strawberries and cream on its crepes and as we sipped our coffee in the window we watched the people go by and spoke of family. Leaving the warmth behind, we bravely journeyed across the Seine to visit the puppies at the "animalerie" and salivate over them appropriately. There are four new, tiny Jack Russels since the last time I visited. Two of them were wrestling and stopped to press their little noses against the glass at me and I wanted to run away with them to the country to raise their children and their children's children... KJ still refuses to let me have a puppy. Triste. The puppy-nay-sayer's heart was momentarily warmed when she became enchanted by the adjacent baby pug with big brown eyes and a squishy face. Is there hope for the hound-hungry? Feeling the need to own something alive and bring it home, we settled for the plant shop next door and purchased a deep blue hyacinth for the family room to match the bright blue and red Matisse and Chagall posters- It’s amazing how much more homey a room can feel with a little plant in it. A bright pink hyacinth and an anonymous paler-pink beauty adorn my little desk by the window. The scent permeates the room and it's pleasant to write by. After feeling content with our decorating skills, the three of us girls proceeded to the Sunday market at the Bastille, where fresh vendors of vegetables, cheeses, and bleeding chunks of meat set up shop with their organic goods from the surrounding countryside. They give out samples of clementines and chocolates and we bit into them as we walked. We bought fresh spinach in a bundle, received a free onion, and bought a few spices, a big purple eggplant, and the most beautiful, giant green pepper that I’ve ever seen. We put them all in our big “panier" that the French use in lieu of “paper or plastic.” So now we are home and getting full on red wine with our hands smelling of peppers. Not a bad place to be. (Comment on this)
Friday, January 27th, 2006
9:47 am	Those dreams where you can fly... Dreamt about Grandpa last night. I flew over pavement streets to the hospital, but knowing he was no longer there I fled on air to a quiet space by water. Morgan was already there, crying. Then Dad was there and he told us that it was here, surrounded by orange autumn leaves as we are now that Dad cried for the first time when he saw us playing with our Grandfather. He and Morgan stood up and left and I shut the door behind them, as the space by the water had become a narrow room the size of a closet. It grew completely dark and I lay on my stomach and stared. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, January 25th, 2006
10:01 am	Inter-language Dating: Adventures in Awkwardness, Mixed with Delight Coming slowly down from my shopping-spree high, sucking the caramel off my fingers from the Twix Bar that had been calling to me all day. MMM. I bought things in dusty pinks and grays and camel-colors and I feel a little 1930s in tweed and pearl buttons matched with long-stranded necklaces. Whimsical, maybe. I need to stop shopping. Monday night brought a date with Djibri, the six foot four French-and-Italian-yet-not-a-word-of-English-speaking gentleman who taught me to Salsa Saturday night. He met me at the metro and proceeded to kiss both of my cheeks in the typically French manner and I quietly, inwardly, freaked out and realized this could either go very well or very awkwardly. It ended up being the former. Though tall he is gentle, almost timid, but respectful. I suggested a film and-oops- we ended up in the theater where my girlfriends were to watch Woody Allen's "Matchpoint." An American girl in a strange land can never be too careful on first dates. I think he caught on later in the evening but handled it all very gracefully. He would lean over to me periodically to ask for clarification on the plot and while first not understanding why he did not get such things, I soon realized it was because he cannot speak English and the film was in British-English. I loved when he asked me which was a British and which was an American accent. Then I wondered what an American accent when speaking French sounds like. I guess it is all about perspective and this whole inter-language dating situation is full of such moments it would seem. He called the next day to ask if he could take me to dinner, but when I declined proposed dancing on Saturday. We'll see. Part of me still feels Thierno around me and this other voice is telling me that I should live in this country, not with part of me overseas and out of reach. Tuesday night, KJ, Kiersten, and I hosted a "Sex and the City" evening with crepes chocolat banane and kiers (wine with creme de cassis) before we all went out for student night at a bar near Odeon. At first let down by the abundance of Americans, we soon made friends with the table of 10 English speakers already in the room (KJ even got a phone number! Mario, Puerto Rican.) Two martinis later, I am approached by the blond-haired young man I'd been glancing at over my glass from across the room. He buys me a beer and tells me he is Irish. We speak in English but his accent is heavily French; he's lived most of his life between the Ivory Coast and the South of France, and is here to celebrate his 24th birthday, which is Thursday, and would I come to celebrate with him and his friends? I look over. His friends are handsome. I look over at our table of girls. I give him my number and a "maybe." Once home, KJ and I had yet another late-night drunken conversation from our bunk beds; I feel like this whole experience is summer camp with potent alcohol and men with accents. This morning held a visit to the Pompidou to oogle Matisse's rendering of some fat-bottomed girls and my first experience in front of a real Modigliani. Tonight, the Theatre de la Ville for Ionesco's "Rhinoceros," which we've all been reading for the past two weeks. Here's to summer camp! (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, January 22nd, 2006
4:20 pm	Stone On Saturday, KJ, Kiersten and I crowded onto the morning RER out of the city and into a landscape of green windy trees and skies dotted with ducks scattering upwards from the Marne. Maryse met us at the station with two big woven baskets and led us through Pontville to a teeming market that smelled like fish, bread, green peppers and pugnant cheeses all at the same time. Everything we ordered came in pretty paper packages, and the green sprays of vegetables were tied in bundles that peeked out from the big baskets we carted as we weaved through the crowd of languages and smells to her home. We were greeted at the door by a cat with big blue eyes, a cat that stayed by our side well into the afternoon as we sat at the oak table and sipped apertifs before consuming our home-cooked meal: Bechamel sauce drizzled over endives wrapped in jambon, a mushroom salad in a mixture of citron and oils made from scratch, and thick white bread to mop the excess up. The Creme Caramel lingered on my tongue for hours; it was there when we met the man walking his dog along the Marne who wished us look with our studies, it was there as we boarded the train to go away and it remained when we bought a baguette at the local boulangerie and brought it up six flights to our own little apartment. I slept deeply for two hours and woke up giggling with a similarly contented KJ. Too wired to sleep, Kiersten, KJ, and I ended up on the big couch wrapped in blankets. Two inspiring episodes of Sex and the City later (watched while sipping wine and munching on clementines and chocoaltes), I was on my own in the big city and off to meet up with Camila, Thea, Frinny, Sally, and Micha. The line for the club was long and I was afraid that they might have gone on, but deciding to go in I checked my coat and walked into a massive room filled with latino music and the smell of mixed drinks and smoke. I walked past long tables lined with eyes before finding the girls in a beautiful circle in the corner and we all danced like "crazy Americans." Though men came and we split up, on every salsa spin we'd catch eachother's eyes and give the "i-can't-believe-he-just-did-that-what-is-yours-doing?!! look." Our margaritas were blue and too-sweet and it didn't even matter. We all got phone numbers and as we exited the club in the cold air we exchanged stories of UN resprentatives and 25 year olds who spoke beautiful French and Italian but not a word of English. Djibri called me today and he wants to see me Saturday night. I miss T and his English and God, even his drooling. I spent the night with the girls, as we had all walked to the FIAP in high heels, talking so much that we couldn't feel the blisters forming on our ankles. I woke at 9 to meet Frinny and Camila for a full FIAP breakfast before making the decision to not go home and head to Notre Dame for 10am mass. The cathedral made me feel small and the sound of my clicking heels was quickly drowned out by the terrifyingly powerful organ music filling the cathedral. I sat alone by the aisle, as far up in the front as I could and was soon joined by a red-headed American who looked comfortingly like J-Ho. As the priests and altar boys processed to the altar the incense smoke rose towards the light falling from the stained glass windows and I found myself thinking about how long it had been since I'd been in a church. I came home to a long hot shower before I decided to go to the edge of the city to a place I had heard about but never seen. I entered the Cimitiere Pere Lachaise and searched for Oscar Wilde and Victor Noir. I ended up finding many others along the way as I wandered through narrow stone paths, reading inscriptions and peering into faces wondering what the people were really like as friends or brothers or lovers. There was one vault were two best friends were buried; old friends from the war who couldn't imagine belonging anywhere else. Others showed young woman sculpted as they were when they passed away, too young and rendered impossibly sad out of cold marble, while others showed old men writing and painting as they did in life. Then I thought of Stacey and Grandpa and their hill in the Pennsylvania mountains and I thought it infinitely more beautiful than the crowded mini-chapels squeezed in expensive rows in front of me. She seems somehow freer than that. Oscar's grave was covered in red lipstick kisses and inscriptions of "thanks"- he bared so much to so many that everyone feels that if he were alive, they'd probably get a few drinks with him. He would have loved Brown. (Comment on this)
Friday, January 20th, 2006
11:41 am	Les Deux Magots I am sitting on a straw chair situated behind a round table facing out onto the Boulevard Saint-Germain-des-Pres in Les Deux Magots. The chardonnay is warming my skin and my tongue tastes like omelette-herbs. KJ sits beside me as I write, while Victor gazes out the window at passers-by. The pregnant women of Paris are parading by in delicate plaid coats, designer, their hair upswept to expose their French cheekbones. The Brasserie Lipp is facing us across the street, le Cafe Flore est visible a notre droit. We spent the morning walking slowly down the streets that surround Saint-Germain-des-Pres: les cafes, L'Ecole des Beaux Arts, l'Institut National de France, la Place de Furstenberg, l'Hotel de la Monnaie et, finalement, L'Eglise de Saint-Germain-des-Pres, with its solemn, thick walls to silence our voices to whispers echoing off the stones lit by finger-like white candles. The sun has just come pouring out of the clouds and it is reflecting off of the fourchettes and cuilles and couteaus to mix with the rainbow light coming from the empty wine glasses to settle on the edge of the cream-colored coffee cup. I have to squint to continue writing so I close my eyes into the sun and listen to the clatter of plates and people biting into their bread before continuing conversations. I feel half-asleep and dreamlike. (Comment on this)
Thursday, January 19th, 2006
6:16 pm	Duras I was walking while my hair was cold as it often gets in big cities, calves numb from the night before when 3 AM came around as we walked through the Louvre and the luxury cars sped by bumping on the cobblestones beside the blue Pyramid and we laughed from the red wine and now it’s misting because it’s Paris. We don’t stop at my door because the Seine looks appealing and we walk towards where my street ends and the Quai begins and it is there, the Tour d’Eiffel with a searchlight reflecting off the sky thick with rain and cigarette haze collecting from the cafés spilling light pollution onto the sidewalk. The light travels on the walls of the Hotel de la Monnaie and graze the Louvre as the turrets of Sainte-Chapelle and then Notre Dame, further back, become visible behind the stones erected around them centuries after their foundations were first dug from the ground. We talk Pont Neuf because it's there. I suppose it has been there a while so we were not the first to trust it for this reason, sensed when we crossed and looked down at the people by the locked park, legs crossed and laughing slow over water. It was nighttime in Paris and every building was illuminated stone. I was reminded of the chill felt from inside the Frigidarium when a guide explained that the metal supports invading the stone were there to prevent thousands of years of paint from fluttering from the ceiling as it had been slowly decaying since the Romans left. Later we walked back with our scarves around our faces. A woman stared at me sideways from beneath a black fedora and headlights glistened off of her gold bag which I imagined as shoes and she became Duras as she first met l’Amant on the ferry boat, not yet knowing that years later, she would write a book about how they made love in his bed and stared at the blinds afterwards. It's cold by the window in my apartment. (Comment on this)
Monday, January 16th, 2006
7:11 pm	Springtime in Paris It's 1am in France and I'm sitting in front of a computer screen wired on espresso after a night of watching an English film with French subtitles. The sensation of hearing voices in one language before the picture came on and reading the subtitles in another rendered language pure sound and I'm starting to understand what Gertrude Stein wrote when she said she had to write in Paris because she liked to be "all alone with English." In other news, I made dinner all by myself! I set the table with mismatched china and big glasses clearly stolen from a hotel to serve pates with tomato basil, crusty bread, and cupfuls of red, red wine to KJ and Kiersten. Is it odd that there is a secret satisfaction in a set of activities normally reserved for housewives? I like taste-testing pasta with too-big spoons. We also made our firt efforts at cooperation with the tiny French washer and dryer. Apparently we used to much soap, because everything is now saturated with "l'odeur de Printemps," so it really is Springtime in Paris in my bed tonight. Bonsoir mes amis. (Comment on this)
Sunday, January 15th, 2006
4:58 pm	Paris Somewhere between sipping a glass of chardonnay and eating a chocolate banane crepe it hit me that i am really in Paris. Tonight is to be our first in the new apartment. You climb six flights of winding wooden stairs to a slightly run-down looking door. After you fumble for your keys, the door swings open onto marble floors, exposed beam ceilings, and a window with a balcony looking out over the Seine. It's not a chateau, but its cozy and a little haven in the middle of something resembling 5th avenue with posh shoe stores (my version of church) and, if you turn the street, a view of NOTRE DAME (KJ's version of a church). We actually have to walk past the Louvre and the Tuileries Gardens to get to our classes at the Sorbonne. Across the street from us there is a dog-grooming place where the crazy dog ladies take their Parisian poodles, which go in fluffy, are promptly shaved directly in front of the window, and come out skinny, bare, and delightfully pink. We have a tv , but I prefer to watch the poodles, you know? The rooms are full of mismatched blue china plates and odd French appliances, with white plaster walls now sprinkled with pictures of Katie and Steph in goggles and all of us in green t-shirts sporting 40s. It's the perfect place to come home to. KJ's face when she caught a glimpse of Notre Dame through a narrow cobblestone street was priceless. She's vowed to see all of the churches in Paris, and I'm to be her accomplice. We have had wine every night (and sometimes day) in smoky cafes filled with voices and languages, and the rhythym of life here seems to revolve around beautiful food, good books and walking down streets while smothered in scarves, streets that give way to monuments you've only dreamed of at night or seen photographed in books. The whole experience is surreal and feels like you are walking through pure cold air. Life is a pattern of crusty bread and cathedrals and I can't wait to sit on a bench in the Jardin de Luxembourg and write in little black books. (Comment on this)
Friday, September 3rd, 2004
5:12 am	Chapter 16 Sun-warmed arms across shoulders as we stand around on the front porch. “I’m gonna miss you.” An Al squeeze as she talks into my hair. “You know I’m only a phone call away.” “Come visit, too!” “I will.” Dad slams the loaded trunk’s door behind us. “Ready when you are, hun.” I turn to Dan, leaning against the house, apart. “Hey you.” “Hey.” He smiles and looks at his feet. I lean against the wall beside him. “You know I’m coming back for Thanksgiving.” “Oh,” he half smiles, “is that supposed to excite me?” “Hey!” I give him a playful shove as he ducks out of reach. Blue eyes: “Goodbye kid.” “See you later Dan.” One last hug as I climb into the backseat before driving off through dust.   ~   Sweat-filled sigh as the last box lies unpacked beneath unfamiliar furniture in my new room. Kate comes tommorow; alone for tonight. Rolling off bed to reach behind desk plug connects soundwaves: “Some people want it all, I don’t want nothing at all, if it ain’t you babe, if I ain’t got you babe...” I smile as the scissors slide over tape on the last box. Tenderly pulling back layers of paper, I unearth smiling faces. Al, Abe, Dan- beach hair, campfires, us piled in the Jetta. Run fingers over the silver frames as they reflect moonlight from the open window. I listen to each settle against the wood of the desk, a half circle of faces surrounding pencils and paper stacks, before reaching for the last one. Sea glass framing two eleven year old faces- Suz and I arm-in-arm sporting sunburns and amber bottles of root beer, Pennsylvania mountains behind. Same blue eyes smile... Startled to catch myself smiling in the mirror above the dresser. I place the picture beside the glass. “But everything means nothing...” Not ready for bed yet- retying string on sweat pants stretch over bed as I lean out the green window. Night breeze lifts eyes to the far-lit side of the quad. That walk. I know that walk.   You can imagine my surprise at the phone call two days later. And lunch? Who does that anymore? Awkwardness over pizza grew, no stagnated, to getting to know someone without knowing them, sharing colds, kisses, without minds. So he left. Why did I care so much? It was the right thing to do. So I went the windy roads and hours home twice, first time in while. Had to feel something, not sure what. Then came the 2 am nights, talking. I saw a mind and a heart, without access to a body. Friends. But weeks later, gripping a basketball and flirting, came a startled question. Direct, like he always was- I said yes, of course. Scared of being hurt, but isn’t everyone? So we, sweat pouring heart racing in the middle of the gym floor, started over.   The shadow moved across the lawn in time with my breath- towards my breath- before disappearing. Silly of me, couldn’t have been... Leaning out again, my eyes meet only with green grass and brick pathways. Sighing and laughing at myself I lean my head against the window frame. “Everything means nothing, if I ain’t got you” The weight of being watched as I turn. Eyes raise to the doorway. The shadow moves across my room and into the moonlight. I rise. Blue eyes reflected in brown as we walk towards each other, smiling.             The End         (Comment on this)
5:11 am	Chapter 15 15   11 am: the sun on our backs, Mom and I trudge up the mountain road two blocks behind Nana’s. Pausing only to open the gates at the base of the hill, we pass between narrow pines that flank the driveway. The puppy pulls Mom to the base of an oak. “Jenn, come over here and look at this.” I jog over, adjusting the shirt sticking to me in the heat. A heart with initials: JP loves PL. “Your uncle Jim wrote that back in high school!” she laughs, “I blackmailed him for a week so Nana wouldn’t find out.” “Uncle Jim? No way.” Mom smiles and nods absentmindedly. Wiping sweat from her brow, she pulls the dog back to the path. “Let’s keep going.” The drive cuves as we come upon the castle; the Victorian turrets making me feel small. Suddenly five again, coming up for the first time and holding Grandpa’s hand. A fairy castle. Suz pulls on his other hand, “hurry, Grandpa, hurry...” I hear Mom breathe in deeply as we head towards the main facade. Construction tape wraps around the left wing of the castle, a juxtaposition in yellow and gray. I follow as she turns away from the building, ascending the stone stairs that wind into the garden, her favorite spot. I run my fingers over the cool stone on the side of the wall sheltering us from the sun as we spiral upwards.   ~   “Suz! Wait up!” Yellow ribbon slips loose from curls and floats down to green grass. I pause at the top of the steps, watching Suz as she climbs up the wall to stand on top of the stones. “Not fair!” She walks along the top of the low stone wall, Milford miles beneath her in miniature, until she becomes a silhouette in the sun.   ~   I blink in the bright light at the top of the stairs, until Mom and the dog come into focus. “It’s changed,” she remarks. We look around us: flowers circle us everywhere- reds, oranges, yellows, pinks. Reflected in the narrow pool along the path: a myriad of blooms and sky, interspersed with the flicking tails of orange fish. I wait for her to continue. “It’s beautiful, though. This used to be all overgrown- the castle itself was boarded up. My friends and I had to sneak in through the fence.” She looks up at the stone walls interlaced with grape vines, vineyard grapes glistening in the sun. “My friend Patty and I used to sneak out and climb up there when we wanted to get out of the house. We used to look out into New York, New Jersey- it made Milford seem so small...” “Can we get up there now?” “Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t tried in years, honey.” “Well, let’s try it, then.” “No, I can’t...I have the dog, remember?” “I’ll take him, hand him up to me.” I pick Winston up in my left arm and begin hoisting myself up the wall with my right. “Jenn, come back down. I...” she sighs and I hear the sound of her sneakers picking out footing in the stone. Seated at the top, I give her my hand and hoist her up as sweat drips off my forehead. “I’m too old for this.” She laughs as she looks at the view at her feet. Her, the dog, and I look out over the scene before us. The garden landcape stretches down the side of the mountain, giving way to patterns of colored rooftops; the tree-lined drive blending into twisted string streets. “There’s Mom’s house.” Mom points below to a tiny rooftop fenced in by green and highway. I squint out across the landscape, shading my eyes.   ~   “Where is Nana’s?” Suz leans over the edge fearlessly, pointing an ice cream-covered finger at the tiny white house. “see?” I timidly clung to the wall, just leaning far enough to see what she saw. We sat still for a moment. “When I grow up, I’m gonna live up here” she announced. “In the castle?” “In the mountains. That way I can keep an eye on Nana.” “Well then I am too.” But she was already gone, hopping off the wall and running towards the stairs.   ~    “I forgot what it all looked like from up here.”  We look out over the landscape for a while before she continues: “When I was your age and things went wrong I’d come up here to get away for awhile.” “Did it work?” I ask, thinking of the little girl with the curly hair. Silence for a moment. “I always had to come back down in the end.” I nod and look away, trying to compose my thoughts. The puppy snuggles warm against my chest. “Jenn?” “Yes Mom?” “Thanks for bringing me up here.” The weight of Suz and Grandpa and age disappearing in her eyes for an instant as a little girl and her best friend sit on top of the world. (Comment on this)
5:10 am	Chapter 14 “You try to get up, when it all falls down...”   I press my forehead against the windows as the trees fly by. “Almost to the mountain.” I feel the air get tighter in the car, stretched with elevation. Shutter effect as trees align vision. Through flashes of brown and green, clouds sit over the valley, giving glimpses of the wet slick of the Delaware snaking through treetops. I watch as a few rays of sun reflect off the river and escape into sky as the car drives on towards the old house in the mountains. ...   Candles flicker light up at a tired face, an almost-smile straining through an 83 year-old body; highlighting tufts of white hair and orange ears aside a freckled forehead. Under ash white eyebrows, heavy lashes reveal blue (youth dying). “Make a wish, Dad.” Mom smiles down at him, offering him the yellow cake. His eyes move around the table as he slumps forward in his wheelchair. I snap a picture as he blows out the year. Sneaking a glance across the table at Nana beside him, I see her eyes well up. “Good job, Eddie.” Her arms reach up, afraid, before patting him on his shoulder. He closes his eyes and waits for his piece of cake to be cut.                                                                                               ...               Later, Abe and I sit out on the porch, watching the cars go by on the interstate. Inside: grandpa alone in the backroom in front of a TV screen flashing commercials. In a separate room, Mom and Nana do the same. “So, when do you work tomorrow?” “five to close” Abe replies, rocking in the old chair. “Oh.” “Wanna do something before?” “Yeah, stop by.” “Alright, I’m gonna get going...” he rises to leave. “Oh, I have something for you.” I hand him a glossy photo- Abe surrounded by Al, Han, and me, smiling into the camera. “From Sam’s house! I forgot you took this.” He laughs. “Look at the smile on my face!” “Shit-eating grin.” “Yeah. Hadn’t had that much fun in a while.” We grow silent for a moment. “Thanks cuz. I’ll see you tommorow.” “ ‘Night.” I hear the car start in the driveway as he drives away.   (Comment on this)
5:08 am	Chapter 13 “Uhhhh I like it like that she workin that back I don’t know how to act...”   Abe in turns to me as we approach the drive-through window. “You want anything?” “Hook me up with a Frosty, Cap’n” “Welcome to Wendy’s, how can I help you?” “Number three and a frosty.” “Drive up.” Window opens to tired youth. Abe hands him a twenty. “Can we get the change in ones?” “Sorry, can’t do it.” “No prob, thanks anyway.” “Shit.” as we drive away. “Where to now?” We both spot the red Citgo sign at the same time. “Gas station?” his eyes light up. “Let’s do it!” We creep up in front of the twenty-four hour station. Our challenge: a three-hundred pound man in stained overalls. “Let me handle this.” Smiling, I step out of the car, twenty dollar bill in hand as I sashay through the glass door, past candy bars and dollar candy to the check-out. “Do you think you could do me a favor?” I put my cards on the table: the bill flutters to the counter. “Could I get twenty ones for this?” I step back, expectantly. “Sure thing, miss.” Wide fingers hand over slowly-counted ones. Twenty. “Have a good one” as the door bangs behind me. I run to the Hyundai, my heels loud against the hosed-down pavement. “Got it!” as I climb in.             We had run the same stint on every shop on the strip: K-Mart, Wendy’s, Dunks- until fifty ones sat crisply in the driver’s console while we sat idling at the park-and-drive, waiting for a sign of the headlights from Al’s car. “I can’t believe we are going to do this. This is freaking awesome.” Abe laughs. “What kind of a time are you having? Grinning. “I’m having an AWESOME time!”  Car jerks as we do a doughnut in the empty corner of the lot. “Ahhh!” We laugh. Feels good to see him smile like that again. This visit the first in the time without Suz. Abe, his brother, and his Dad had come up every summer since we were little. This time, Abe had made the five hour trip alone. “I had to get away” he had explained as he walked in our front door two days ago. And we had filled every day. I took off work, just like that, not caring. Day trips to Boston, mornings on the beach, fishing trips and the ocean at night. White headlights interrupt thoughts as Al pulls up and parks in front of us. “We have ones!” Abe shouts proudly. “Hey babe” Al and I hug, then her and Abe embrace. “How are ya? It’s been forever!” “I know!” Abe smiles, “I missed my Massachusetts girls.” Han spills out of the backseat, giggling hello at Abe as well. Doug rolls down the window and waves from the passenger seat. “You guys ready?” “Let’s roll” Abe locks up the car and we pile into Al’s Subaru. ...   Fifteen minutes later, five frustrated kids in the parking lot of Kitten’s Showclub. “Since when did they get a liquor license?” Doug laments. “I wanted to see boobs.” Han gives him a shove in the back seat. “Now what?” Al’s phone rings, and we turn down the radio as she picks up. “Hey, what’s up?...uh-huh....no, we couldn’t get in...” We stare out the windshield as fat drops of rain begin to roll down the glass. “Sure, hold on...Do you guys want to head over to Sam’s?” Seconds later, on the road to New Hampshire through the night. ...   Al and I spread out on the couch, half-eaten bags of Wendy’s fries screened by throw pillows. “Girls, get up!” Arms lift us off the couch as we are dragged to the dance floor, high-heels rubbing against ankles with each step. Blonde/brunette/black hair flashing, pool games and red cups while thunder and lightening rage outside. Abe downs a drink as Han and Sam sneak outside to share a cigarette under the porch. It was like fireworks- lawn white like day, heavens shining through cascades of water on roof/windowpane/walls. Han and Sam come back soaking wet and smiling. Right. Music beats on Jay-Z, black lips music sprout beats. Al pours amber into my cup. We clink with Abe. “I’m havin an AWESOME time!” His eyes light up as he laughs. A flash of Suz in his eyes, smile. She hangs there in the air above us as his pupils focus. “I love you, cuz.” He bear hugs me until I feel small. Al laughs. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” “No, no listen to me. This isn’t this talking,” he points at his cup. “This is me talking.” He pounds at his chest. “Me. I love my family. All you have is family.” Al nods and put her arm around him. “Of course you do, I know.” “All you have is family.” She leads him to the armchair and helps him in. I watch frozen. “Jenn, Jenn.” I turn to Al. “I got this.” I kneel before his chair, eye-level. “What is it, Abe?” “Do you ever think about her?” The image of Suz hovers above his face. “All the time.” He nods as his eyes close against the sound of rain. “Nights like this, I wonder...” “Jenn?” I hear Al behind me as I slide open the screen door. Water pounds my skin, beating my skirt against wet legs. “Jenn! Get back in here.” I stand in the center of the yard, watching lightening shatter a branch into sand, sparks shooting like stars. The sensation of being underwater.   ~   Fighting to push up against river      green, my spinning legs bone-white in the light filtering from the surface. Rushing water against the blood in my veins pulsing in panic. My head screams in blue sky before dashing down. I watch the white foam fly from my arms as if they aren’t mine. Heart in my lungs... Waking up covered in sand. The riverbank. Suz’s face framed by sky: “Jenn!”   ~   “Jenn! What are you doing out here? Are you trying to kill yourself?” I feel Al grab my arm to lead me inside. For a second we stand still, eyes upwards at raindrops illuminated by lightening. Like going into space, watching the stars fly by. “Is that what it’s like?” Water in my eyes as I turn away.   (Comment on this)
Monday, August 16th, 2004
6:41 pm	Chapter 12 "Are you sure you have everything?" Al laughs as I try to close the trunk of the car. Shoving down an escaping corner of sleeping bag with one hand, holding down the duffel bag with the other, I lower the door and close it, hand slipping out just in time. "I think that should do it." I turn to her and grin. "Get in the car, Rodgers." "Sure thing." We separate and go around opposite sides of the car. The screech and smell of burnt rubber as tires squeal up the drive and stop behind us. BEEP BEEP "You ready ladies?" We turn to see Dan lean out the driver's window of the Jetta, flicking a cigarette onto the lawn. Al and I jump in the car as I turn the ignition. Backing around Dan, we go down the driveway front-first behind the Jetta going at it backwards. Al makes faces at Doug in the opposite passenger seat as Dan stares me down, backing out without looking. Spinning around, he leads us down the dirt road. "Jerk." Al mutters. I smile. "Jenn," Al turns to me, "What's that smile for? Is there something you're not telling me?" "What are you talking about?" I meet her eyes the rearview mirror. "I think you know what I mean," She raises her eyebrows playfully. "You're crazy," I shake my head laughing. "Certifiable." Click on the Nextel: "Five more miles." Pen in teeth, right hand in wallet, I throw change at the toll booth, pennies banging off the metal surface like drops of hail. "Floor it!" Al shouts. We speed up to pull alongside Dan in the Jetta. "One more exit." I nod and get behind him in time to turn off the highway. The landscape shifts to exclusively pines and trailers. "Sketch.," I remark. Al laughs as she leans over to change the station. "Meet me in outer space, I will hold you close, if you're afraid of heights..." Dan's blinker goes on and I follow him onto a dirt road barely wide enough for a bicycle, let alone a car. I wince as branches whip by the windows. The sun is getting low in the sky when we glimpse it again through a clearing in the trees ahead. Dan and I park side by side in a sparse field of overgrown grasses. Stepping out of the car, dust flies up around my flip-flops. A door slams. "This is it." The four of us look ahead toward a log cabin labeled "17," turning off the headlights and idling until I hear the boys pull up behind. We exit our cars together, breathing in the air scented with pine. Dan throws me a bag. "Catch." I look down at my arms to see the tent-in-a-bag. "No way I'm doing this alone." Exactly. That's why you are going to help me." Dan smiles, then turns to Doug and Al. "You kids get the cooler and the bags, we'll take care of the tent." He and I walk up to the site, dumping the contents of the bag in a pile of metal poles and crumpled nylon. "Um, Dan, where are the directions?" He shrugs. Before I can yell at him, he breaks into a grin and has me laughing.                                                                     ... Hours later, we sit on logs around the fire, the assembled tent behind us. "Cheers." We unite our marshmallows over the flames. Staring into the leaping red and black, I feeel Dan's eyes on me from across the fire. "...and that's when I got the hell out of there!" I catch the tale end of Doug's story as Al and him erupt into laughter. Doug yawns dramatically and slaps at a misquito. "Alright, I'm going to bed. These bugs are driving me nuts." Al sighs and rises, pulling marshmallow off her palm. "Me too. Jenn, you coming?" "You go ahead. I'll be in soon." "Dan?" "Uh yeah, I think I'll stay up for a bit. Someone's gotta watch the fire." Al laughs. "Sure. Goodnight." "Night Al." "Night." They file into the tent, and we listen as their laughter tinkers out to breathing and the rythym of sleep against a backdrop of crickets. I wrap my arms around my bare knees in the semi-dark. Dan reaches behind me to his bag, pulling out an oversized gray sweatshirt. He tosses it to me. "Here, put this on." A little puzzled, I look at him as I slip it over my head, pulling it down until my fingertips protrude from frayed sleeves. "Better?" "Yeah, thanks." "No problem." We stare into the fire for awhile. "So, whatever happened to that guy you were seeing at school?" I sit up on the log. "Well that's a polite question." I laugh uncomfortably, facing away. I feel his eyes on me as he replies: "Just asking." Recovering with a shoulder shrug: "Well, for your information we are not seeing eachother for the summer. We were just- too far apart...Pass the marshmallows, will you?" He hands me the bag as I concentrate on stabbing the white blob with my stick before holding it out over the flames. An owl hoots off in the woods, and we turn to see it fly above us. Returning our eyes to the fire: "So..do you ever miss the city?" "What, Providence?" "Yeah." I pause for a moment before replying. "I do, but its weird. I didn't realize that I'd ever miss things about home until I went there. There aren't stars like this at school." We both stare up at the sky. Dan breaks the silence: "I felt the same way my first year away." "Yeah?" I turn to him. "Yeah." Dan, can I ask you a question? "Shoot." "When you first came home after a year away, did you ever feel alone? Like you were different, or maybe everyone else was different, and you can't get back to the way things were?" Afraid, I concentrate on the patterns of red and orange dancing across my sleeve. "Definately. Of course." I pull  frayed sleeves over my knuckles. "But hey, the fact that you and I are sitting here across from each other after two years apart proves that friendships can make it, right?" I smile. He continues: "I remember seeing you for the first time. You were peddling by my house on your tricycle- topless." "You perv, I was four!" Laughing: "Then when we met again in high school- when we first dated you had those huge braces, remember?" "Ha!" Yeah, And you drove that sexy minivan- the one with the peeling paint." I laugh. "Hey, you were lucky to be dating a senior with a car. As I recall, you didn't get a car until after I graduated." "I was so blessed." I roll my eyes. Suddenly. "Why did we break up, anyway?" I laugh and look down. "What kind of question is that? I don't know! That was forever ago. We were so young." When I look up again his blue eyes are staring into mine. I stop laughing.His hand on my hair as his lips brush mine. The image of brown eyes and a bright smile leaning in to kiss me goodnight... I pull away. "I- goodnight Dan." I stand up and we look out across each other in the firelight, silent. I crawl into the tent beside a sleepin Al, leaving Dan to watch the fire die down alone.                                                                         ... I woke up the next morning to the sound of rustling right by my head. Eyes open to bright red blurs as I jump back. Al laughs and shakes me. "It's just me. You slept in, so I'm just packing our stuff up." She zips the red backpack. "What time is it?" "Almost ten. Go look outside." Puzzled, I rub my eyes and slip out of the tent, wincing in the bright sunlight. When the world comes into focus again, I see Dan curled up asleep against a log, still facing the burning fire. It had never gone out. (Comment on this)
Sunday, August 15th, 2004
10:35 pm	Chapter 11- Part II Rising "On the way down, I saw you and you saved me from myself" Night air and wheatfields woosh by through windows open to whatever. Han and I in the back, singing along but drowned out by Dan and Doug in front. Airplanes fly overhead as we turn off the highway and onto a curve so sharp knees smash seat-backs and swearing ensues. Right, Dan is driving. "Asshole." A Dan-wink in the rearview and we're giggling again. Back roads. Tree   tree      tree                 Acres of power lines and a sign. We turn.  The road narrows as we pull to a stop in front of the landing strip to await thed 10:30 touchdown. Inside the car warmth from leather seats as Han and I unbuckle seatbelts to face each other. "Do you think they'll care that we're here?" "We're just here to watch it land, I don't see what harm it could do." Laughter outside. We look out the car window at the boys standing watch by the chain-link fence. A flash of white in the semi-darkness as Dan lights up and exhales. Smoke drifts through the window. "You guys, get out here, it's coming." Han and I open car doors as we all climb on top of the Jetta, shoulders touching and eyes to the sky. "I don't see it yet." "Look." Dan points to the light seemingly miles away. "That thing?" "Just watch." We lie in silence, feeling each other's pulse rise as our eyes follow the approaching light. And gradually, wings and stripes from darkness. "Are you ready?" Han and I look at each other, then hold on tight to the boy's arms. Suction and lights and sound, heat from the plane and car shaking as its white underbelly eclipses the sky...                                                                         ~ Blinking lights above the sky-scrapers as we exit the club, sweat hanging from our bodies to thicken the air. "That was amazing, right?" "Ha, yeah I must admit it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be." Multiply-pierced concert-goers stream onto the streets around us before disappearing into cars. "What time is it?" "Eleven. We have six hours till we have to meet the bus." "Six hours? What are we supposed to do for six hours?" "Let's walk." But which way? He had stopped for a moment, unsure. I grab his hand and pull him to the right. "Follow me." The man of white lights lights up and we walk into blinding white before reaching the safety of a sidewalk. Caffeine running through my veins, I stare at him sideways beneath blonde hair. I step in front of him and kiss him on the lips. "Ahhh!" "What? No one's around!" "In that case..." He tickles me and I fall to the brick sidewalk in a ball, rolling and laughing. Street empty of those to come to my aid, laughing so hard tears come to my eyes. "We're gonna...ahh!...wake....Stop it! The neighbors! Truce, truce!" He helps my up and I hug him as hard as I can. "That's what you get for being fresh." He smiles. We walk for hours: Citgo sign, Museum of Fine Arts, State house... Blinking lights, restroom stops and French fries. We walk by a small park. "Wait. Let's sit down for a little." He leads me to a bench and we collapse, exhausted. He offers me a granola bar from his backpack and we sit, eating. I unknowingly watch his face as he folds the wrapper over and over in his fingers until he turns to stare back at me. "What are you thinking about?" he asks. "I'm gonna miss you." Words escape before I have time to even think them. He looks uncomfortable: "I'm here now." Recover: "Shut up." We kiss. A frantic search for a taxi and a wild ride later, we arrive as the bus is about to leave the station. He behind me, I look up at the sky before we board, the world suspended by a singular star.                                                                          ~ The sky returns to black as the plane exits our vision., landing a few hundred feet away. The wind stills as my heart races. "Wow." "Yeah." We lie there for ages, each alone with our thoughts, before climbing back into the car and heading home for the night. "And I'll never forget the way you loved me." (Comment on this)
Sunday, August 1st, 2004
11:48 pm	Chapter 10 "Yesterday morning, they let me know you were gone..." Twirling through brick and green and sun, focusing on the dark of his hand against the light of my own until the black skirt slowed and the world stood still. Blue sky reflected in Brown eyes. "Do you want to sit down?" "Sure." My eyes scan the green, scattered with sun-bathers and students weilding boooks. The midst of exam time: funny, I had forgotten. The girl who always studies... He leads me to a patch of shade underneath apple trees and we lie in scattered petals, pink. Waiting. He watches me carefully as I turn away from his gaze, safely out of sight and blanketed behind the blossoms.                                                                             ~ Kate and I had been  in line for 25 minutes. It was the study break cookout only yesterday, and after hours of highlighters and heavy books we were all itching to escape outside into the sun. "I never want to read another book agian." "My ergo exam is sucking away my youth." We stood downwind of the grill, bitching about whose workload was heaviest. Worrying too much, studying too hard. But with the sun so bright on shoulders and surrounded by friends, I could'nt shake the feeling of well as I felt summer in every shoulder freckle. "One week left." "Yeah. Of exams!" she retorted. "But then months of no reading and moving into our suite this fall." She reached over and grabbed the napkins about to fly off of the card table. "Have you packed already?" "Honey, I've been packed since April!" We laugh as we approach the grill. We finallly sit on the warm stone steps, eating our long-awaited (and atrociously under-cooked) burgers off of paper plates. I study the flat floral border at plate's edge through a blob of ketchup. We had eyed the table of Ben and Jerry's strewn with plastic spoons, played frisbee. Stomachs satisfied, we were throwing a football around, ice cream stains on my pink shirt. Then the phone rang. Caller ID: home. Silence, then static. Slowly: "Hi Jenn." "Oh hey Mom. It's so hot here, is it beautiful where you are, too? You won't believe what I just ate..." Was that a sob on the other end? "Mom, what is it? Is something wrong? A pause. "Are you with friends, honey?" "Yeah, I'm with Kate and some kids from the dorm. What's wrong?" Static, electric wire buzz. "Is it Grandpa?" "No...Grandpa's fine honey. Are you sitting down?" I looked back at the still-growing line for the grill, recognizing faces of friends. Someone waved. I waved back. Turning away from the noise of laughter, I walked to the edge of the terrace. Arms on the railing, I watched Sam and Dave throw a football back and forth, back and forth. "What is it, Mom?" A sigh of pain muffled by a shirt sleeve?" "...your cousin Susie was in a car accident last night." "Oh my God-" Head racing: "-Is she okay? Did they take her to the hospital?" Mechanically: "It was raining hard last night. She was driving back from a friend's house in the next county. She took backroads..." I slunk down to the cement in horror, my arms reaching out to clutch the wrought-iron railing. Hold on. Felt my breathing getting thick, asthma-induced panic. Memories of car rides with Susie, the Black Pontiac speeding through crazy turns on dark, wood-lined streets. A vision of her in the driver's seat, the seat belt dangling from the side of the car, unfastened. "But is she okay?" "...They didn't find her until 1 am. Her car slid into a tree. The roads were so awful..." She broke down, her sobs echoing through the air from antenna to antenna. I, trying to comfort her through the miles but sobbing and needing two hours away in a place filled with sun. "Mom, it's okay, it's going to be okay." "-By the time they got to the hospital the next morning, she was already gone. She was conscious in the night but they didn't try hard enough to reach Jim and Pattie, they were waiting for her to come home all night. They could have said goodbye to her, been there when she...I'm so sorry." Tears streaming down. Hysterical self-body rock. Vaguely conscious of someone puttinf their arms around me, faces staring. "This is why I've always been so strict about you and your sister. If I was ever hard on you, its because of this. Things like this. Her parents were just waiting and waiting for her to come home." Frantic. "We know you love us, Mom. We love you, too, we know you are the way you are because you love us-" She was graduating in a week. Suz had been taking a double load of classes at college to graduate a year early, working hours and hours at the restaurant to make ends meet. She was so close, everyone was so proud... I loomed back to consciousness, hearing from far away: "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I questioned calling you all day, I wanted you to know, I didn't know how...I'm so sorry..." "Mom, no- are you okay?" Weeping, a nose blown. "No, not really." Quiet on the phone line. "It's just that....I keep seeing her face. You girls grew up together. She was your age. If that was you..." She quieted a scream. "Your Uncle Jim is shattered, he won't talk to anyone. Aunt Pattie....the three other kids, too...Your grandmother...your grandmother is in shock. Grandpa doesn't understand, the stroke, so she is all alone. We keep telling him Jim's little girl is gone, but..." She broke down for a long time while I watched my tears bleed circles in the cement. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm going down there to be with them tonight. Jenn. I can't stay here with things like this." Meg in the background: "Mom, its gonna be okay. Do you want me to talk to Jenn?" "No honey, no Mom's fine." She continued braveluy: "When are your exams?" Brain impulse retrieve information. "Saturday morning. 10 AM. Then one Thursday." Silence on the line. "Oh." I felt my mouth form the horrible words, forced them: "Why? When is the     funeral?" The wake is Friday night, the funeral is going to be Saturday..." "Mom, I'm coming." "You can't miss your exams, no." she said unconvincingly. I heard my mother shrink and felt my own heart fall apart in my chest. I wonder how her little brother is doing. Younger than Meg. Oh God- Suz, cheering captain, blue eyed dimples and her Pearce smile, laughing at something Grandpa said- what was it, now? I speak through the sobs, uncontrollable and from deep: "I'm going." Air rushed out over the line: "Oh, if you think its best. It would mean so much to be together, for all of you cousins to see each other, now." I watched RC Liz approach in slow motion across the terrace, the guy's football silent on the grass. Grief too deep to scream, eyes shouting water as my lips open and close soundlessly. Her voice on the line: "I...I have to go, I love you, Jenn. I love you so much." Hysterical and trying to hold on "I love you too, Mom" barely getting the words out as I shrunk down. Beep. Dial tone. Lifted from cement by hands, arms around my back hold me up until I can get to alone. I hear a voice. "You don't have to take any exams, don't worry, my roommate's father died last year..." Eyes everywhere when I all want to see are her eyes, her face. When I get to the room it is empty. "I've seen fire and I've seen rain, I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end. I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend..."                                                                                 ~ I feel his hand on my hair as a tear rolls down my cheek onto the grass. He had broken through the closed door and sat up with me for hours last night, while unfinished papers due tommorow sat half-finished in his backpack. Robin had left practice to hold me, roommate bringing oatmeal and muffins through the night. I had stared at the bulletin board of photographs for hours. Startled to see Suz in the background for the first time. Age 13? Uncovering pictures of Easter egg hunts- flower petals like the ones floating down now, but in a small yard beside the highway, Nana's, sneaking out after dessert for flashlight tag and scary stories. Back in the present I listen, apart, as breath escapes my body. He turns my face up to his, pain reflected in liquid brown eyes. I had told him that I was leaving tommorow. Already so far gone. His hand pressed warm against my own, icy now even in the sun. I pull away and reach up to pick a petal from his hair, feeling him watch me like one watches a child. Is he scared, like I am? Looking away at anything, searching for her everywhere, knowing that the only connection that can ever exist, now, is a face reflected in photographs. The little girl in the pink dress smililng into the lens... "...But I always thought that I'd see you again."   (Comment on this)
11:15 pm	Chapter 9 House party. Alison and I outside, voices within. We lean against the railing  and breathe in cool particles of summer night, intermixed with cigarette smoke and the twinkle of party laughter. A glass breaks inside; applause and a roar of laughter. Looking out over the hottub; last couple making out, over the pool where a solitary float floats while a guest on cell phone sits by the water, staring at her own reflection. Is there a boy on the other line? Al turns to me: Wanna get out of here? "Let's." Picking up our drinks, we descend the steps off the deck, my toe bumping a red plastic cup as it rolls under the porch. We snake around pool's edge, stopping to stoop over and examine ourselves. Allison straigtens her skirt as we smile at what'-her-name on the other edge, her feet dipped in the deep end. Stepping over tent wires and downed volley-ball nets to the old swing set, we sit and rock side-by-side. "So how are you really?" I can feel her eyes focus on my face as I concentrate on the bass line coming from the house. "Jenn?" Let out long held breath. "I don't know. Sometimes everything is fine and I'll be laughing or surrounded by people and it just hits me that she's not coming back." A pause. "It's like she is still so present, her face, her voice. I saw her a few weeks ago. She was fine." Suz had sat across form me in Nana's olive green chair, tan legs crossed. I had complimented her on her nails- french manicured, like mine now. We shared college stories and pictures. Laughed. "It must be hard," Al said finally. "Yeah... She was supposed to come visit me at school." I had spoken suddenly, too fast. Al noticed. Alison's hand on my shoulder. "She would have liked that." I nod and look away. Visiting Suz at work, grabbing some icecream. Our trip to Kittatiny, canoes and her crazy friend. Laughing as her car rushed through windy roads, sun off the Delaware reflected everywhere. The perfect day. Later, going to basketball games to see her, Captain, smiling over pompoms at the bleachers. At us. I stare into my drink before speaking. "She was always so far ahead of me. Boys, friends, school. She used to tell me these crazy stories about parties she had gone to, stuff she had done. I couldn't wait for things like that to happen to me." Her face as she told a good story: eyebrows raised, one dimple deepening as she lowered her voice... "You guys seemed really close. I wish I had someone like that to grow up with." She slaps at a misquito in the dark. The three of us- Suz, Abe, and I- were inseperable as kids. First years spent falling asleep in strollers; later, tadpole hunting in threes, PG-13 movies as pre-teens. The last couple of years, a drift. Suz moved ahead of us: first to get a job, to try make-up, to be kissed. "I....I just wish we had been closer. I don't know. These last few years we were going through so many of the same things, apart. That last visit, it was like...we were finally beginning to understand eachother again, you know?" Al nods and we grow silent. Looking out across the yard at the party, three Abercrombie-clad college boys enter the house. "She would have loved this party." The feeling of laughter rising inside. "Oh yeah!" Al winks. A first floor window opens "Al! Jenn! Get your asses in here!" We turn and look at eachother for an instant, understanding without speaking. We rise, leaving the swings rocking behind us, empty, as we head towards the house.   (Comment on this)