And It All Comes Tumbling Out

A lot has happened since the last post, and I credit the gap to laziness and sickness (something my doctor referred to as “possible walking pneumonia” – uh, awesome?). Anyway, here’s a recap of some of the Big Events:

The Fourth of July was shaping up exactly like I’d wanted it to. Nothing spectacular- just a chill evening with friends and cold beer. After cooking veggie burgers on the small $18 grill we’d purchased at CVS (and propped up on a mini-fridge), we sat around in our patchy backyard, lounging on various pieces of furniture we’d dragged down from the apartment.

As the night wore on, the music got louder and more anti-imperialistic. Pretty soon we were all tipsy, singng along to Vietnam protest songs, and generally acting like a bunch of lefty college students. I lit up my third cigarette, only to catch Andy looking at me with a disappointed furrow in his brow.

“What?” I said, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air.

“Nothing,” said Andy. “I just thought you said you’d  cut down.”

“Well, I’m drunk. Cut me some slack.”

He nodded and I could tell he felt bad for mentioning it. I knew that he used to be a heavy smoker and that on more than one occasion, he’d had to deal with girlfriends nagging him about tobacco use. Still, I resented be patrolled and took another deep drag off my Parliament in revenge.

“America, FUCK YEAH!”

Our friends had found a “Team America” clip on YouTube, and now all bets were off. As they chanted its chorus, I made my way over to the fire pit, where Andy was sprinkling grass on the dying embers. He looked really sweet, with his boyish face all lit up, and my resentment started to melt.

Eventually, things started to wind down, and Andy and I dragged the rest of the beer into the kitchen. Since we were both completely shit-faced, this took way longer than necessary, and by the time we got everything inside, I was ready to explode.

“I have to pee,” I said. 

“Me too,” he slurred.

We slogged our way to the upstairs bathroom, where we immediately collapsed, our faces pressed to the cold tile floor.

“God, I like you,” he said, shaking his head.

“Ooooh. I like you, too.”

I’d been distant all day, so this small confession felt good. Really good. I squeezed him close to my body.

“I’m just so glad I found you,” I said.

Andy said nothing. Then he pushed himself up and looked at me, his face contorted with emotion.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to say all night,” he said. “Except I didn’t, because I thought it would sound too serious. I’m so glad I found you, too.”

An hour long sob session followed, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the downstairs neighbors had to put buckets out to catch the water dripping from their ceiling.