the break
we're in the car in the middle of the night driving to joshua tree to go see the wildflower explosion. im driving and daniel is next to me, and ted and lisa are in the back seat snuggled up and looking out of the same window. we're listening to hank williams. two days before i would not have expected to be here, since two days ago jonathan and i finally stopped pretending that everything was alright and decided to take a "break," a word that made me feel like i was in an airplane bathroom- stale, cramped, scared, uncomfortable. the whole point was to feel less smothered, wasnt that it? it didnt work that way for me, and as hank crooned im so lonesome i could cry, i started to understand that maybe that was a problem in my life, a reoccurring theme, perhaps even my tragic flaw. that being part of a relationship is what truly makes me feel free, its the base upon which all other happiness is constructed.
i look over at daniel. the day before jonathan sat on the edge of his bed and shook his head and said, "i just need some time," daniel had a seizure. he had never had one before and they couldnt figure out why, while walking down their hill to hollywood boulevard one saturday, he felt light headed and then collapsed onto the pavement, seizing. i met jonathan through daniel; they were high school friends and after college jonathan moved in with daniel. i met him at a party and knew we would date. as i was leaving that party i hugged daniel goodbye and he said to me, i really care about you. and i laughed and said, of course you do, and patted him on the back and left. he had been my best friend for years.
we had all planned this massive road trip up to canada for spring break, but after the seizure and the breakup the prospect of ten days in the car with them seemed dangerous. but on friday morning daniel said, lets just go to joshua tree, spend one night and see the flowers. and ted and lisa were up for it, they camp a lot together because they are this perfectly healthy, happy combination of people that exist to love each other and compliment each other and be each others best friends. it probably wasnt a good idea for me to be surrounded by this dangling carrot of what could have been, what i could have had. what i deserve, but what just doesnt seem possible.
we leave at dusk, get high in the carpool lane and watch the day bow into night. we dont talk that much, no one even mentions the breakup though i knew everyone knew about it. we had been dating for almost a year. when we first started we were like a new house, like one of those cookie cutter houses in subdivisions, all clean and crisp and easy. and then before our very eyes the brand new walls started to crack and crumble, and termites nibbled at the foundation, and the plumbing stopped working. it was as if the house aged a hundred years in just one. and the worse it got, the less romantic we were, the less i felt wanted, the less interested he seemed, the more we ignored it, the harder we pushed until finally the house caved in on itself and left us dusty and dismayed, shaking our heads at what all had been ruined.
we pass by a row of fast food chains, their symbols float towards us like apparitions. mcdonalds, del taco, burger king, and then target, costco, ikea. all one after the other, and the only thing we can make out in the dark is the glowing logo. it makes me feel sick with lonlieness, like im five and my moms out of town, and its past my bedtime but my dad doesnt know that because he's never put me to bed before. and even though i would have loved to watch unsolved mysteries at ten o clock when things are normal, doing it on a school night when your mom is away on business is the emptiest thing youve ever known.
we pull up to a tiny parking space of a camping lot and start setting up the tent and building a fire. it isnt very cold, and we still arent saying much. we drink a few bottles of wine sitting around the fire and then crawl into the tent. im in between lisa and daniel, and i can feel the graspingness of ted and lisa, the pull, the movement of them settling into each other. daniel is laying on his back and i squeeze my eyes shut hard enough to avoid the tears.
we wake up in the morning and everything looks completely different. joshua tree isnt pretty, its dry and barren and wide and gaping, and it doesnt look friendly at all. we pack up and realize that somehow ted's shoes are missing, which makes us howl with laughter for the first time in days. all four pair were sitting outside the tent and when we woke up there were only three left. so we drive to a gas station and lisa picks out the most hideous pair of black slip ons we have ever seen, and we're laughing so hard in the isles that a cashier comes over to see whats going on. its even funnier to see him, all six foot five of him, in black socks pulled up and those sandals.
we drive to the mouth of a trail and set out to see the flowers. its unbearably hot and the hike is more difficult than i imagine. we get to the place where the newspaper said was a good spot for seeing the flowers, but there are far fewer than we had expected. from what we saw in the la times, there were supposed to be oceans of them, purples and yellows and reds undulating under the vast sky. we wonder if we got the place wrong and start walking back to the car. im the last in line and when we are nearing the parking lot ted turns around to me and says, "im really sorry about you and jonathan." he stops walking and looks at me in the eye and it takes all of the strength i have to not burst into tears, to not grab fistfuls of the dirt, to not just say jonathans name over and over. i wonder if he would get it, or if he would look over at lisa and daniel and try not to laugh, or if he would just say, jesus christ calm down.
in the car we start driving around the park and things start looking greener. we're listening to amnesiac and the windows are rolled down and i look in the backseat at daniel and ted and they are both looking out of their respective windows, both smiling, like they are remembering a funny joke. the road is winding and hilly and i love driving it, i feel like im excercising. we come around a turn and see dozens of parked cars and then we see it- fields and fields and fields of flowers. lisa says it first.
there it is.
we park the car and get out. surrounded by the mountains, some of them with the picturesque hat of snow on top, are planes of flowers. the colors sort of stick together in some places and in others they are all mixed in with each other. they are waving a bit in the breeze and there are at least 30 people standing on the side of the road looking in awe. lisa is taking pictures and daniel says, "this is better than i imagined." we stand there for a minute, just trying to understand. something about the weather this year caused it. it hasnt been like this in decades, since anyone can remember.
a woman standing in front of a volvo station wagon does it first. im not sure why we hadnt yet, but she just starts walking into them. shes just walking and smiling, all by herself, and the sight of it is so precious that it causes one of those moments- an it isnt so bad moment. a moment that makes you actually excited about living, about being able to be alive and part of anything like this. and soon of course, since she had given us permission, we are all walking into the fields of flowers, kneeling down in them, sitting down in them, just standing still in the middle of the miles of them. ted and lisa are standing with their arms around each other, not saying anything, and i look over at daniel and smile. he says,
im so glad we came.
and i say, me too.
i look over at daniel. the day before jonathan sat on the edge of his bed and shook his head and said, "i just need some time," daniel had a seizure. he had never had one before and they couldnt figure out why, while walking down their hill to hollywood boulevard one saturday, he felt light headed and then collapsed onto the pavement, seizing. i met jonathan through daniel; they were high school friends and after college jonathan moved in with daniel. i met him at a party and knew we would date. as i was leaving that party i hugged daniel goodbye and he said to me, i really care about you. and i laughed and said, of course you do, and patted him on the back and left. he had been my best friend for years.
we had all planned this massive road trip up to canada for spring break, but after the seizure and the breakup the prospect of ten days in the car with them seemed dangerous. but on friday morning daniel said, lets just go to joshua tree, spend one night and see the flowers. and ted and lisa were up for it, they camp a lot together because they are this perfectly healthy, happy combination of people that exist to love each other and compliment each other and be each others best friends. it probably wasnt a good idea for me to be surrounded by this dangling carrot of what could have been, what i could have had. what i deserve, but what just doesnt seem possible.
we leave at dusk, get high in the carpool lane and watch the day bow into night. we dont talk that much, no one even mentions the breakup though i knew everyone knew about it. we had been dating for almost a year. when we first started we were like a new house, like one of those cookie cutter houses in subdivisions, all clean and crisp and easy. and then before our very eyes the brand new walls started to crack and crumble, and termites nibbled at the foundation, and the plumbing stopped working. it was as if the house aged a hundred years in just one. and the worse it got, the less romantic we were, the less i felt wanted, the less interested he seemed, the more we ignored it, the harder we pushed until finally the house caved in on itself and left us dusty and dismayed, shaking our heads at what all had been ruined.
we pass by a row of fast food chains, their symbols float towards us like apparitions. mcdonalds, del taco, burger king, and then target, costco, ikea. all one after the other, and the only thing we can make out in the dark is the glowing logo. it makes me feel sick with lonlieness, like im five and my moms out of town, and its past my bedtime but my dad doesnt know that because he's never put me to bed before. and even though i would have loved to watch unsolved mysteries at ten o clock when things are normal, doing it on a school night when your mom is away on business is the emptiest thing youve ever known.
we pull up to a tiny parking space of a camping lot and start setting up the tent and building a fire. it isnt very cold, and we still arent saying much. we drink a few bottles of wine sitting around the fire and then crawl into the tent. im in between lisa and daniel, and i can feel the graspingness of ted and lisa, the pull, the movement of them settling into each other. daniel is laying on his back and i squeeze my eyes shut hard enough to avoid the tears.
we wake up in the morning and everything looks completely different. joshua tree isnt pretty, its dry and barren and wide and gaping, and it doesnt look friendly at all. we pack up and realize that somehow ted's shoes are missing, which makes us howl with laughter for the first time in days. all four pair were sitting outside the tent and when we woke up there were only three left. so we drive to a gas station and lisa picks out the most hideous pair of black slip ons we have ever seen, and we're laughing so hard in the isles that a cashier comes over to see whats going on. its even funnier to see him, all six foot five of him, in black socks pulled up and those sandals.
we drive to the mouth of a trail and set out to see the flowers. its unbearably hot and the hike is more difficult than i imagine. we get to the place where the newspaper said was a good spot for seeing the flowers, but there are far fewer than we had expected. from what we saw in the la times, there were supposed to be oceans of them, purples and yellows and reds undulating under the vast sky. we wonder if we got the place wrong and start walking back to the car. im the last in line and when we are nearing the parking lot ted turns around to me and says, "im really sorry about you and jonathan." he stops walking and looks at me in the eye and it takes all of the strength i have to not burst into tears, to not grab fistfuls of the dirt, to not just say jonathans name over and over. i wonder if he would get it, or if he would look over at lisa and daniel and try not to laugh, or if he would just say, jesus christ calm down.
in the car we start driving around the park and things start looking greener. we're listening to amnesiac and the windows are rolled down and i look in the backseat at daniel and ted and they are both looking out of their respective windows, both smiling, like they are remembering a funny joke. the road is winding and hilly and i love driving it, i feel like im excercising. we come around a turn and see dozens of parked cars and then we see it- fields and fields and fields of flowers. lisa says it first.
there it is.
we park the car and get out. surrounded by the mountains, some of them with the picturesque hat of snow on top, are planes of flowers. the colors sort of stick together in some places and in others they are all mixed in with each other. they are waving a bit in the breeze and there are at least 30 people standing on the side of the road looking in awe. lisa is taking pictures and daniel says, "this is better than i imagined." we stand there for a minute, just trying to understand. something about the weather this year caused it. it hasnt been like this in decades, since anyone can remember.
a woman standing in front of a volvo station wagon does it first. im not sure why we hadnt yet, but she just starts walking into them. shes just walking and smiling, all by herself, and the sight of it is so precious that it causes one of those moments- an it isnt so bad moment. a moment that makes you actually excited about living, about being able to be alive and part of anything like this. and soon of course, since she had given us permission, we are all walking into the fields of flowers, kneeling down in them, sitting down in them, just standing still in the middle of the miles of them. ted and lisa are standing with their arms around each other, not saying anything, and i look over at daniel and smile. he says,
im so glad we came.
and i say, me too.
posted by Jessica Baxter | 2:21 PM
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