Nature Nurture

After watching Midnight in Paris, there wasn’t much more that I wanted to do than curl up next to Stephen and not say anything. That being impossible, given not only our distance, but also our lack of suitable room, because, really, what I want is to be back in that mint toothpaste room at the wrong end of the bed, or the right one, and to be hearing the bromance outside and to chalking them up to college ambient noise that can sometimes make you start laughing in the middle of a kiss. That’s not going to happen. No matter how much I achingly want that. It’s just not going to happen. So I texted Stephen and told him to call me skype tonight tomorrow, that I didn’t get my fill of talking to him, even though I don’t have anything to talk about. I wanted him to make a skype account and to be talking to him right now instead of writing this. I could probably call him right now and tell him that and he’d do it for me. But that’s not how this is going to work. When I’m apart, I want to respect that he has other people in his life, things to do on Saturday night that I don’t star in, places to go, movies to watch, books to read. In short, go on living. And I want him to do that, I want him to be happy without me and not to be impeded by my absence at all. I really do. But I also want to be back so much. I want to skip summer, skip June and July and August, and just be back. 

I’ll have these little bouts of despondency, where I cry and feel very isolated. Then I snuffle a few times, decide I’m being silly, and get on with it. I keep thinking that as much as I wish we were closer, that it’s good to know that I’m ok, alone. That I haven’t made myself inseparable, that I’m still perfectly capable of being alright without Stephen. Then I think that maybe you’re not supposed to be ok when you’re not together, and then I think that that’s stupid and that of course you should be able to carry on. Not just carry on, to be wonderful, to still have wonderful days. Not even still have, just to have. No ‘still’ involved.

Things that make me happy.

Coke in old fashion bottles

Mail

Spaghetti

An empty house

Open blinds

Overcast skies

I did it. I’m one year of college in, with A’s, A-’s ,and a D+ to show for it. But those are the least of what this year gave me. I have a new sense of the world. A wider one, a scarier one, but with the people I need to live in it. Dannen, Digo, Stephen, foremost among many others. New types of happiness. New types of unhappiness too, but never enough to outweigh the good things. Not being the best anymore, or even being close. Being somewhat ok with that. Failing and being rejected. But still getting the really important things. Hundreds of hours studyingreadingwriting. Another hundred eating chips and salsa in the stubby, driving, drinking. Another hundred sleeping in someone’s arms, someone that’s wonderful and kind and smart and funny and considerate and handsome and warm. Hours caf sitting for too long, but that being ok. Going to every single class. Knowing what it’s like to be on probation. Knowing what it’s like to fail and not feel good enough.  Only getting part way though movies, because there are better things to do.  Laying in the grass. Almost falling asleep in class. Having the side of the room that gets evening light. Being able to live with someone I don’t particularly like or respect. Finding so many people to like and respect. Being able to honestly say that I made the right choice in College of Idaho. Being so glad I came here. Missing it—everyone and everything that comes with it—more than anything. Wanting to be back, to give up summer to be back with my friends and classes and Stephen. Having autonomy, doing what I want when I want to.

Sunday drives and Sunday mornings. 

When we went to the Nutcracker together. My seat had blue glitter on it, which I didn’t realize until intermission. You, being your gallant self, were halfway through putting your coat down for me, saying that your manhood could take it. I stopped you and said that I was already glittery.  At some point that night, the girl behind us groaned that there were tall people in front of her. I think that was right after you put your arm around me. Later that week, a girl in my art class that I introduced you to in line asked me very slyly if that was a date. She and her family were the ones behind us. Simplot was against us that night.  You walked me in, but there were RAs. So we went to the sports lobby, and sat a little awkwardly there. But then a Catalina boy came by and chatted with you for a minute. So we decided to give up and call it a night. But we stopped in the stairwell, the very well lit one. We lingered there long enough for someone to come by. And then I think I told you that we may as well get it over with. Or something very forward like that. At some point, probably before we kissed, I had my head on your chest, and I could hear your heart beat. I told you I was in the perfect place to hear your heart. I was on the right side of your chest. But then we kissed. My head was turned the wrong way and my head hurt because my neck was craned, and it lasted so much longer than I expected. Then Brad walked by, and of course, being in the well lit staircase that we were, gave us a thumbs up. I made horrified faces going up the stairs. I went and barred my freshly kissed soul to Sawyer, and got some comfort. He told me I had to communicate, so I texted you apologizing to you for the awkwardness probably only I felt, and told you I was new at it. You texted back and assured me that I wasn’t awkward. I felt much better. It was a Tuesday.  December sixth.  That’s the day I officially count us as being together, whenever I stop and wonder at how many months we’ve been together. 

Valentines day, when we only made it part way through Midnight in Paris. When I went to the bathroom, you skipped ahead to the ending, because you thought I might want to see the end. 

All the times we had to peak into Simplot to see if my RAs were there. 

The time we ate David’s watermelon in the quad, and you brought me apple juice.

The warm night that we lounged in the quad, but lost the sun too soon. You read me bits of Paradise lost, and I wrapped up in the blanket a little bit. Then we went back to your room, and put my blanket on the floor. We laid on it a while, and then you remembered that it was 9 on a sunday, and that your parents would call. So I left, and went and gave Dannen a chocolate bunny for easter because she hadn’t had one in years. When you texted me, it said, baby come back.  I came back. I did leave my blanket with you, after all.

When we went to the Heritage BBQ and Rochelle greeted us as Hey cute heritage couple.

That night I fell asleep in your arms at the foot of the bed, when the lights were still on.

The time I told you how silly it was that we had to get redressed to get ready for bed. You said yes, it was silly, but rather wonderful.

All those nights I heard the train go by and I was with you we were together. 

The morning you needed to study cell biology, and we heard a train. You said you’d spoken to the conductor, and that the whistle was a reminder for you to get up if you were still in bed with me after a certain time. I got a little huffy, but I wasn’t really mad, because I knew you really did need to get up. So I said ohhh fine, fine. You realized just then that that was a little rude, and you said as much. I said no, that we’d get up. You said no, I take it back, and tried to pull me back into your arms. 

The last walk we went on, around the neighborhoods. We saw Maughn walking his dog with its sweater. There were cats everywhere, and they all matched their houses and cars.

Later that night, we came out to look at the moon, because I said it was supposed to be extra large and bright. I got sulky because I thought you were going to go drink beer with Sean. I was very sulky. I was the one who got up to leave moon watching early, because I was mad and I couldn’t focus the moon because I’d taken my contact out. We walked back, and even though I was close to you, and we were arm in arm, I stayed apart. Like I said, I was mad at you. I tried not to be. But I was. We got back to your room, and you asked me if I wanted to go get a snack. I asked if you weren’t going to go drink beer with Sean. You said no, you’d see him later. And I said good, because I was grumpy. You sounded very incredulous when you asked me if I thought you would want to go drink beer instead of be with me. 

That’s not one of my favorite times, because I’m embarrassed of myself.

The time we were hugging and my hedgehog necklace was in between us. I asked something along the lines of are you jealous of my hedgehog, and you said maybe you were, because the hedgehog got to spend all day with me.

All those Sunday drives we took, even though you had so much work and I had to go to chapter.

That time we went to Lake Lowell and sat on the rock wall. You’d packed us Goldilocks Diet Cokes, and I packed us full sized ones. We drank mine and ate your fresh Albertson’s french bread. When we were walking to the middle to sit, you noted the CCC plaque. I asked you something, for some clarification, and instead of repeating yourself like I wanted, you started to explain the CCC to me. As if I didn’t know what the CCC was. I said something sarcastic like, Thank you for the explanation. I think that sarcastic tone stayed with you, because days later, you made sure I wasn’t feeling like my intelligence was being insulted when you brought me your intro to art book to skim through in the grass.

There were people strolling, and one couple’s baby got knocked out of its stroller by the dog they had. You said the dog looked pleased with himself. I was wearing my cape, and the scarf you gave me. There was a boat on the water playing loud music, and many many boat trailers in the parking lot. 

The time we were driving back from Boise. I don’t remember where we were coming from, but you took my hand as we were getting off the freeway and shifted the Trooper with my hand under yours. 

The one morning before I left, you played The Party on your ipod. I didn’t know that was the title then. I came over to the bed where you perch to tie your shoes, and asked you who it was. You said it was St. Vincent. I looked that song up later and bought it.

The time the fire alarm went off at 5 am.  It was the only night I’d ever worn pajamas to sleep in.  You woke up, turned towards me, and said I am so sorry with your eyes closed. We all stood outside Langroise for a while, until Johnny Low got Lang open. Then we all went inside and claimed separate spaces. You went toward the stairs, but I said that the couch was probably already claimed. So we sat outside the auditorium. I was very glad to have my hoodie, so that I could cover up my hair. You weren’t wearing shoes.