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A Thousand Miles
Sep. 23rd, 2002 08:26 pmThis weekend was nothing like I expected, and I've returned from it feeling sad, scared, sorrowful, but also extremely loved.
The minute I walked into the house Friday night it was obvious that no one was going to let me talk about Kirk. Mom was automatically on top of me asking what I wanted for dinner, telling me Mike would be coming over, showing me where she put all the things I left laying out when i left. I was tired, I'd been up most of the night on the train (crying of course,) and though I really wanted to rest, I also wanted to talk about Kirk to someone. Up until now i've told people the facts of the suicide, not how I feel about it, really down deep. And once Michale arrived it appeared that I wouldn't get the chance. Everyone was talking and acting like nothing had happened, that i wasn't a complete emotional wreck, and it made me feel very uncomfortable. The City is a safe place for me. I can let down my defences when I'm surrounded by familiar things. I wanted to just babble about Kirk, but no one really seemed like they wanted to hear it, so I kept my mouth shut.
Bed time was a nightmare. I layed down in my bed and realized the last time I saw Kirk alive we had cuddle together on my bed for several hours. This memory sent me into hysterics. I got up, cried for an hour or so, and then moved into the living room, opting to sleep on the couch rather than with Kirk's ghost.
So after all of this I think it is understandable that I wasn't in very good shape the morning of Maria's wedding. I'd only gotten 4 hours of sleep, I woke up with Kirk on my mind, and on top of it i had to start preparing myself to spend several hours smiling and shaking hands, and pretending to be happy. As i showered and dressed my mood just grew darker and darker. I couldn't stand the thought of forcing myself to be happy when all I felt was sorrow. I knew if i went to the wedding my happy facade would only thinly veil a growing sense of resentment at having to attend. I wasn't emotionally controlled enough to be there. So I broke down crying just minutes before mom and I were going to head to the bus station, and I told her I couldn't go. I knew Maria and Greg would understand. Mom on the other hand was not pleased. She thought it was very rude of me to bail out after they had already paid for my meal and what not. And it was rude, but it would have been ruder to go and dampen the festivities. So I stayed home and my mom left the pissed off words "we need to talk when I get back" in her wake.
Still crying, and hyperventilating now as well, I go upstairs and call Alan hoping he will know what to say to talk me down. He doesn't. Both of us are unusually silent. He tells me he doesn't knwo where Kirk is buried. Neither of us know what to say. I hang up feeling unresolved. However I fall asleep promptly after so it doesn't really matter.
Well...not until I wake up two hours later anyway. I wake feeling rested, but still very dazed and upset. To distract myself, I check my email and see who is on IM. Low and behold Clark is online. I send him a message and we start catching each other up on what's happened since we last spoke. I tell him about Kirk. I'm so fucked up I guess my desperation is evident even in my writing because Clark asks "Do you want me to drive up to be with you?" I say no, but that I appreciate the offer. He says "Or I can call you on the phone if you don't want me to come up, which do you prefer?" I tell him it's totally his call, that I would love to see him if he is feeling adventurous enough to drive from DC to New York, but I realize it would prolly be a very big hassle to do so, so I understand if he doesn't want to and i would be just as happy to speak to him on the phone. He thinks for a minute and then says. "Aw hell I'm driving up. You need a hug."
4 hours later, at 9 PM, Clark calls, tells me he is parked at 89th street between West End and Riverside and is on his way to my house!
I agree to meet him outside the building. I have been crying, am wearing the rattiest clothes i own, I look like a complete slob, which concerns me a little until I see Clark looking just as slobby as me. It was so odd to see him standing out on the sidewalk. It was a "one of these things just doesn't belong" moment. But he gave me a great big long hug when I emerged, and I felt very glad that he had decided to come.
He was hungry so I took him over to Cafe 82. We sat there for a while, talking and catching up. I told him all about Kirk, and bless his heart, he let me. I talked at him while he ate, and he nodded at the appropriate times, asked questions, and just let me vent every feeling I had surrounding Kirk and his suicide.
And thank Goddess Clark is as perceptive as he is. He was able to pick up on verbal and physical cues that signaled when I didn't want to talk anymore, at which point he started telling me about Grad School and DC. He got to talk and I got to listen.
Afterwards I decided to give him a tour of my neighbourhood. He'd never been to NYC before, and I felt guilty that his first trip focused on keeping me sane rather then seeing the sights. We walked and walked and I pointed out areas of interest. Again, he seemed to pick up that I really enjoy talking about the city so he kept asking questions as we walked. I took him down to Lincoln Center which scared him because it "looked too rich." We went down Broadway to Columbus Circle and then walked back uptown on Central Park West. As anyone can tell you, I haven't been every active since Kirk died. I've been too busy weeping in my dark room. It was really good to take a long walk, get outside, share my city with a friend and watch his reactions. It was invigorating and distracting.
We returned to my place and spent the next four hours chatting on my couch. Got into one of our now requisite locker room esque sex talks. I'm glad to say we are no longer tied, and he is a bigger ho then I am. He told me stories and made me laugh, really laugh outloud from my gut, for the first time since Kirk died. At one point I asked him why we always get into these weird ass sexual discussions and he was like "I think you and I talk to each other about things we can't talk to anyone else about. I can't talk this frankly about sex to other people! I can't achieve the level of intimacy and flipancy it requires with others. I can't talk to anyone else about spirituality either." He's right of course. I don't talk to anyone about sex as frankly as i do with Clark, nor do I discuss my religion with anyone. In anycase, he managed to completely distract me for that entire 4 hours.
Around three AM we conked out. I set him up on the fold out chair and layed myself down on the couch. But things got weird the moment I turned out the light. I closed my eyes and had this horrific intuitive thought that Clark couldn't breathe. I turned over and looked at him. He looked fine, no pillows or covers over his head. There was nothing blocking his mouth or nostrils, still I was certain he couldn't breathe and I was going to wake up the next morning to find him dead. I closed my eyes but all I could see was the image of a body with a platic bag over it's head. I couldn't tell if it was Kirk or Clark. I take a couple of deep breaths, tell myself "that's not Kirk, he is not Kirk, calm down." Not until I hear soft snores coming from the floor am I able to relax and fall asleep asured that Clark will be okay.
The next morning Mom makes us pancakes for breakfast. (Mom by the way enjoyed herself so much at the wedding that she forgot to scold me when she came home.) I finish packing, and tell Clark, since i don't have a grave to visit, I'm gonna go down to Kirk's apartment today and put flowers on his stoop. He asks if I want company. I think about it for a half hour or so. Then I invite him along. I think it'll be better if I have some moral support.
I buy some exotic looking flowers and we hop on the subway. All the way down my head is screaming. I don't want to do this. i don't want to have to be doing this. I don't want to need Clark here with me. I want to be going to meet Kirk, alive and well, and go out to eat with him or something!
We don't talk as we approach the building. I go in the front gate, and Clark disappears behind the foliage giving me a few moments of privacy. I climb the steps, and place the bouquet in front of the door with a copy of the flyer I originally posted all over the neighbourhood in order to locate him. On it I've written somethng along the lines of "I will always love you and I will always miss you Kirk."
When I come back down, Clark has his arms out and i just collapse into them. I cry buckets of tears onto his shoulder. I'm audibly sobbing but he doesn't care. I just stand there in the middle of the sidewalk, hanging onto him for dear life, as he strokes my hair. I won't realize until later that this is the first time I've allowed myself to cry in front of someone else. I've not felt comfortable enough with anyone to show my emotions this candidly.
We stand there a long time. I try walking, but my legs are weak, so he puts his arm around me. I'm still crying and i'm sure people are staring at us. I apologize for making a scene. He says i have nothing to be sorry about. I need to regain my composure, so we walk. Eventually i don't need him to hold me up anymore, I stop crying, I dodge pedestrians like a pro. By the time we reach Macy's I'm feeling better and we get back on the train up town.
Returning home, we sit around and talk some more. He pokes around in my drawers, bookshelves, photo albums, altar. I tell him I don't want to leave and he tells me to stay. I come across a copy of "If They Knew," and let him read it. I poke through his pockets, trying to guess whats in them without taking anything out. We giggle, and poke, and hug, and smile, and once again, I'm not thinking about Kirk.
He drives me to Penn Station. I get to laugh as he bitches about the other drivers and pedestrians while intermitently singing along to Modest Mouse. We underestimate the amount of traffic we are up against. But he manages to get me there 3 minutes before my train leaves, and I make it!
After this weekend I completely forgive Clark for every cruel, psychologically damaging thing he has ever done to me! Everyone I know has spent the last week saying "Carla I wish I could come down to be with you right now." But these things are said with the understanding that no one can just abandon their life to go comfort a friend. Only Clark is reckless...and caring...enough to do it. No one else would have done that for me, no one. I have to admit, no matter how much he and I piss each other off, he always takes care of me. I didn't realize how much i needed a shoulder to cry on until he showed up. I thought I was okay keeping it all in and venting only to this journal. I was wrong. It was just so wonderful to have somebody to hold me while i cried, and not offer advice, or even consolation, just physical closeness. Someone to literally hold me up when i couldn't stand.
I am so grateful to Clark. This is easily the sweetest thing he has ever done for me. I told him he needed to come back under less morose circumstances and get a real tatse of the city. He said he'd plan to come back between Thanksgiving and Christmas. The psycho wants to take me out clubbing.
The minute I walked into the house Friday night it was obvious that no one was going to let me talk about Kirk. Mom was automatically on top of me asking what I wanted for dinner, telling me Mike would be coming over, showing me where she put all the things I left laying out when i left. I was tired, I'd been up most of the night on the train (crying of course,) and though I really wanted to rest, I also wanted to talk about Kirk to someone. Up until now i've told people the facts of the suicide, not how I feel about it, really down deep. And once Michale arrived it appeared that I wouldn't get the chance. Everyone was talking and acting like nothing had happened, that i wasn't a complete emotional wreck, and it made me feel very uncomfortable. The City is a safe place for me. I can let down my defences when I'm surrounded by familiar things. I wanted to just babble about Kirk, but no one really seemed like they wanted to hear it, so I kept my mouth shut.
Bed time was a nightmare. I layed down in my bed and realized the last time I saw Kirk alive we had cuddle together on my bed for several hours. This memory sent me into hysterics. I got up, cried for an hour or so, and then moved into the living room, opting to sleep on the couch rather than with Kirk's ghost.
So after all of this I think it is understandable that I wasn't in very good shape the morning of Maria's wedding. I'd only gotten 4 hours of sleep, I woke up with Kirk on my mind, and on top of it i had to start preparing myself to spend several hours smiling and shaking hands, and pretending to be happy. As i showered and dressed my mood just grew darker and darker. I couldn't stand the thought of forcing myself to be happy when all I felt was sorrow. I knew if i went to the wedding my happy facade would only thinly veil a growing sense of resentment at having to attend. I wasn't emotionally controlled enough to be there. So I broke down crying just minutes before mom and I were going to head to the bus station, and I told her I couldn't go. I knew Maria and Greg would understand. Mom on the other hand was not pleased. She thought it was very rude of me to bail out after they had already paid for my meal and what not. And it was rude, but it would have been ruder to go and dampen the festivities. So I stayed home and my mom left the pissed off words "we need to talk when I get back" in her wake.
Still crying, and hyperventilating now as well, I go upstairs and call Alan hoping he will know what to say to talk me down. He doesn't. Both of us are unusually silent. He tells me he doesn't knwo where Kirk is buried. Neither of us know what to say. I hang up feeling unresolved. However I fall asleep promptly after so it doesn't really matter.
Well...not until I wake up two hours later anyway. I wake feeling rested, but still very dazed and upset. To distract myself, I check my email and see who is on IM. Low and behold Clark is online. I send him a message and we start catching each other up on what's happened since we last spoke. I tell him about Kirk. I'm so fucked up I guess my desperation is evident even in my writing because Clark asks "Do you want me to drive up to be with you?" I say no, but that I appreciate the offer. He says "Or I can call you on the phone if you don't want me to come up, which do you prefer?" I tell him it's totally his call, that I would love to see him if he is feeling adventurous enough to drive from DC to New York, but I realize it would prolly be a very big hassle to do so, so I understand if he doesn't want to and i would be just as happy to speak to him on the phone. He thinks for a minute and then says. "Aw hell I'm driving up. You need a hug."
4 hours later, at 9 PM, Clark calls, tells me he is parked at 89th street between West End and Riverside and is on his way to my house!
I agree to meet him outside the building. I have been crying, am wearing the rattiest clothes i own, I look like a complete slob, which concerns me a little until I see Clark looking just as slobby as me. It was so odd to see him standing out on the sidewalk. It was a "one of these things just doesn't belong" moment. But he gave me a great big long hug when I emerged, and I felt very glad that he had decided to come.
He was hungry so I took him over to Cafe 82. We sat there for a while, talking and catching up. I told him all about Kirk, and bless his heart, he let me. I talked at him while he ate, and he nodded at the appropriate times, asked questions, and just let me vent every feeling I had surrounding Kirk and his suicide.
And thank Goddess Clark is as perceptive as he is. He was able to pick up on verbal and physical cues that signaled when I didn't want to talk anymore, at which point he started telling me about Grad School and DC. He got to talk and I got to listen.
Afterwards I decided to give him a tour of my neighbourhood. He'd never been to NYC before, and I felt guilty that his first trip focused on keeping me sane rather then seeing the sights. We walked and walked and I pointed out areas of interest. Again, he seemed to pick up that I really enjoy talking about the city so he kept asking questions as we walked. I took him down to Lincoln Center which scared him because it "looked too rich." We went down Broadway to Columbus Circle and then walked back uptown on Central Park West. As anyone can tell you, I haven't been every active since Kirk died. I've been too busy weeping in my dark room. It was really good to take a long walk, get outside, share my city with a friend and watch his reactions. It was invigorating and distracting.
We returned to my place and spent the next four hours chatting on my couch. Got into one of our now requisite locker room esque sex talks. I'm glad to say we are no longer tied, and he is a bigger ho then I am. He told me stories and made me laugh, really laugh outloud from my gut, for the first time since Kirk died. At one point I asked him why we always get into these weird ass sexual discussions and he was like "I think you and I talk to each other about things we can't talk to anyone else about. I can't talk this frankly about sex to other people! I can't achieve the level of intimacy and flipancy it requires with others. I can't talk to anyone else about spirituality either." He's right of course. I don't talk to anyone about sex as frankly as i do with Clark, nor do I discuss my religion with anyone. In anycase, he managed to completely distract me for that entire 4 hours.
Around three AM we conked out. I set him up on the fold out chair and layed myself down on the couch. But things got weird the moment I turned out the light. I closed my eyes and had this horrific intuitive thought that Clark couldn't breathe. I turned over and looked at him. He looked fine, no pillows or covers over his head. There was nothing blocking his mouth or nostrils, still I was certain he couldn't breathe and I was going to wake up the next morning to find him dead. I closed my eyes but all I could see was the image of a body with a platic bag over it's head. I couldn't tell if it was Kirk or Clark. I take a couple of deep breaths, tell myself "that's not Kirk, he is not Kirk, calm down." Not until I hear soft snores coming from the floor am I able to relax and fall asleep asured that Clark will be okay.
The next morning Mom makes us pancakes for breakfast. (Mom by the way enjoyed herself so much at the wedding that she forgot to scold me when she came home.) I finish packing, and tell Clark, since i don't have a grave to visit, I'm gonna go down to Kirk's apartment today and put flowers on his stoop. He asks if I want company. I think about it for a half hour or so. Then I invite him along. I think it'll be better if I have some moral support.
I buy some exotic looking flowers and we hop on the subway. All the way down my head is screaming. I don't want to do this. i don't want to have to be doing this. I don't want to need Clark here with me. I want to be going to meet Kirk, alive and well, and go out to eat with him or something!
We don't talk as we approach the building. I go in the front gate, and Clark disappears behind the foliage giving me a few moments of privacy. I climb the steps, and place the bouquet in front of the door with a copy of the flyer I originally posted all over the neighbourhood in order to locate him. On it I've written somethng along the lines of "I will always love you and I will always miss you Kirk."
When I come back down, Clark has his arms out and i just collapse into them. I cry buckets of tears onto his shoulder. I'm audibly sobbing but he doesn't care. I just stand there in the middle of the sidewalk, hanging onto him for dear life, as he strokes my hair. I won't realize until later that this is the first time I've allowed myself to cry in front of someone else. I've not felt comfortable enough with anyone to show my emotions this candidly.
We stand there a long time. I try walking, but my legs are weak, so he puts his arm around me. I'm still crying and i'm sure people are staring at us. I apologize for making a scene. He says i have nothing to be sorry about. I need to regain my composure, so we walk. Eventually i don't need him to hold me up anymore, I stop crying, I dodge pedestrians like a pro. By the time we reach Macy's I'm feeling better and we get back on the train up town.
Returning home, we sit around and talk some more. He pokes around in my drawers, bookshelves, photo albums, altar. I tell him I don't want to leave and he tells me to stay. I come across a copy of "If They Knew," and let him read it. I poke through his pockets, trying to guess whats in them without taking anything out. We giggle, and poke, and hug, and smile, and once again, I'm not thinking about Kirk.
He drives me to Penn Station. I get to laugh as he bitches about the other drivers and pedestrians while intermitently singing along to Modest Mouse. We underestimate the amount of traffic we are up against. But he manages to get me there 3 minutes before my train leaves, and I make it!
After this weekend I completely forgive Clark for every cruel, psychologically damaging thing he has ever done to me! Everyone I know has spent the last week saying "Carla I wish I could come down to be with you right now." But these things are said with the understanding that no one can just abandon their life to go comfort a friend. Only Clark is reckless...and caring...enough to do it. No one else would have done that for me, no one. I have to admit, no matter how much he and I piss each other off, he always takes care of me. I didn't realize how much i needed a shoulder to cry on until he showed up. I thought I was okay keeping it all in and venting only to this journal. I was wrong. It was just so wonderful to have somebody to hold me while i cried, and not offer advice, or even consolation, just physical closeness. Someone to literally hold me up when i couldn't stand.
I am so grateful to Clark. This is easily the sweetest thing he has ever done for me. I told him he needed to come back under less morose circumstances and get a real tatse of the city. He said he'd plan to come back between Thanksgiving and Christmas. The psycho wants to take me out clubbing.
