Sunday, April 26, 2009
I REALIZED THAT I missed him more when I was completely alone. When I was with other people, I could almost pretend like it never happened. Until something that he would like popped up. Sometimes it was a song, or a joke, or a beer I had with dinner in some city I wish we were in together.
In that moment, alone in the shower washing the conditioner from my hair, my thoughts went back to him.
They were vaporized when I heard Grant knock on the door. I heard it open and he said into the steamy bathroom, “Hey, Blake, some Casey keeps calling your phone. Do you want me to answer it? It seems important, she's called three times.”
Time froze. I didn't say anything. Then Grant repeated, “Blake!”
“Yeah, I mean no. Don't answer it. Can you bring it to me? I'm getting out.”
Obediently, he went to retrieve my cell.
Casey was calling me. During the middle of the day. This was unprecedented. Maybe he wanted me. Maybe he wanted more than just a fling.
We hadn't spoken since Aspen and it had been over two months. I'd totally let go of the hope that he'd really wanted more than what we were.
Grant said she.
I pulled a towel off the rack in my bathroom and wrapped my hair up first. Then I wrapped the larger one around my body and grabbed the phone that Grant handed me through a half-closed door.
I sat on the toilet lid. I thought that maybe I'd imagined what Grant had said. Maybe my overactive imagination just wanted to hear it was him, and so that was what it chose to hear. It had been doing that a lot. His name was everywhere. Television. Movies. KC and the Sunshine Band. Kansas City was the worst. Everything was Casey this Casey that. Yeah it was spelled KC, but it read the same to me.
I saw his beer in restaurants and hotels when I traveled, having been referred by him. Even after everything.
I heard it in a store one time and then I shouted it, too. I couldn't help myself. Heard a man shout it and then I repeated it, yelling at the top of my lungs. It was his friend's name. I think they might have been partners. And I looked really foolish.
I heard it in my dreams, too. That made waking up a real bitch.
Then there it was written in Helvetica Neue in my shaky hands.
Casey.
“Hello,” I said, calmly. Even though I wasn't.
“Hi.”
I was him. My heart raced and my vision blurred, my eyes fluttered closed on the other end and I felt the urge to laugh. I sat there in the john and waited for him to talk again. Speaking had been stricken from my resume.
“Blake, are you there?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I answered. “How are you?”
How are you? That was the stupidest question I could have asked and I definitely didn't want the answer.
If he was bad, I was worse.
If he was great, it would have killed me.
“I'm here,” he said. “Sorry to call. I know it's… Whatever, listen, Micah is at the hospital. She wanted me to call you and let you know that the baby is on its way.” His voice gave nothing away. Flat. He just spoke. I couldn't tell how he felt at all. That kind of really sucked, because I was dying to know how he was. At least then I might know how I was.
Of course he was calling me for that. The baby.
He wasn't calling me for me. Or for him. It was for the baby. I desperately tried to swallow the disappointment.
“Right. Is she okay?” I asked.
“She's doing fine. She is in labor, but she's doing great so far. She thought that you would want to know.”
Still, I couldn't get a read on him. It was like we were merely acquaintances. Maybe that was what we were.
“Good. I'll get a flight. I was going to be in town this week anyway. Which hospital?” My voice was all over the place. I sounded like a pubescent boy. Squeaking through my awkward swallowing and around my heaving lungs. Through all of it, though, I still wanted to burst out laughing.
I had stayed away from him and him from me. We were following the rules. The unspoken moral code of a person in a relationship, and a person who liked living out of a suitcase.
He abided by them.
It was daily recovery and nightly withdrawal. Which was odd because he'd only ever spent one night with me. Yet, that's always when I thought of him the most.
“We're at Senton.”
“All right.” Then I laughed. Maybe it was a nervous thing, maybe my body was happy and reacted by chuckling at the worst possible minute to spite me. “Sorry.” I coughed.
“What's so funny?” he asked.
“I don't know. I just felt like laughing.”
“You're so weird,” I heard him say softly, like he thought it out loud. I heard it though. Humor. Candor. It was small, but I could smell it like blood in the water.
“Weird because I'm laughing?” I cracked.
“Yes. This is totally supposed to be awkward and uncomfortable and you're ruining it for me.”
Then I cackled. Laughter poured out of me and I folded over with joy. He was laughing, too.
“Seriously, Blake. This is weird. Stop laughing. It's f*cked up. We're in a fight.”
In a fight, like when my brothers would lock me in my room? Like when Kari used to borrow my clothes and then not return them in high school? In a fight suggested it was only for now. That eventually we wouldn't be in a fight.
We were in a fight and that sounded like the best news I'd heard in months.
“What are we fighting about?” I asked out of morbid curiosity. It had been way too long since I'd taken a dip in the vast, open mind that was Casey.
“Because you're stubborn and I'm a p-ssy.” He laughed outright. I heard Micah bark a laugh in the background. I hadn't realized that she was there. We'd usually been alone when we were on the phone in the past. I'd assumed he was in the waiting room or somewhere else.
“Was that Micah? Can I talk to her?” My dearest friend was in labor and I'd just heard her laugh. That didn't add up.
“Blake, I'm having a baby. Get your ass here,” she told me.
“I'll be there as soon as I can. Are you doing okay? You sound great for being in labor,” I admitted. It wasn't at all what I'd expected to hear.
“I'm fine. They gave me an epidural. Be glad you weren't here earlier. I was a mess. That shit hurt for real. Shit,” she said. “It's still feels like hell, but much better. I wish Cory was here already.”
“Where's Cory?” I asked, a little taken back that he wasn't with her. He'd been all over her night and day for the last few months. Every time we talked he was there. Even though their voices were different, they still sounded similar, and I love calling her and listening to Cory talk to her while we were on the phone.
“I made him get out this morning. He was driving me nuts! He was on a bike ride. So Casey brought me here. He's supposed to be here in a few minutes. It's so crazy. He’s been under my skin lately and now that he was finally doing something, that's when this baby decided to show up.” She laughed a little and I heard a little moan slide out.
“Well, good luck. I'll be there as fast as I can. I love you. Just focus and get tough.”
She growled at me through the receiver. “I'm tough.”
“Okay, here's Casey again,” she said and passed me back.
“Hey,” he said. There wasn't really anything else for us to talk about.
“Hey, okay. So I'm going to call the airlines and see if I can get my ticket moved up. Should be there some time later today or this evening, if it all works out.”
“Sounds good.”
“Casey?” I said before hanging up.
He let out a long sigh. “Yeah.”
“Can you please text me if anything happens? Do you mind?” It was baby time, and I was dying to know what gender it was and all of the details.
“Sure. I'll text you. Will that be okay?” I heard the hint of sarcasm.
“Yes. Grant's not coming with me. Besides, Micah is having a baby.” That sounded like a good excuse.
“Okay, I'll let you know.”
“Thanks. ’Bye,” I said and ended the call.
I’d become a whirlwind. I was used to traveling, so I already had a full second set of toiletries that never even left my bags. I threw clothes in my suitcase, packing for about a week. I was supposed to make a trip there this week for work anyway.
I packed up my laptop and chargers and put last minute things in my carry-on.
Grant was actually kind of excited for me. When I came out of the bathroom, I'd screamed, “Micah's having the baby.” Yes, I was over-the-moon thrilled about that, but I think what really had my blood racing was that I was about to see Casey.
Grant offered to drive me to the airport so that I could call and make arrangements to at least get on standby. As it turned out, I wasn't going to have to wait that long. The customer service person was able to get me on a flight that afternoon and I'd be at the hospital in hours.
I got a coffee and took a seat in the terminal at which I was to board said flight.
I looked through social media on my phone and coincidentally found my way over to the Bay Beer Twitter page. Like always, there were pictures of the staff back at the brewery, as well as all the new things that had just started happening for them. Beer enthusiasts were taking pictures with their pints and tagging Bay Brewing.
They were doing really, really well. I thumbed through their photos, like I always seemed to do, and found one of Casey. It was a newer one. He still looked as handsome as ever. He had his hair trimmed, but not cut. So it wasn't as wild as I'd seen it could get. He wore faded jeans, a Rolling Stones T-shirt, and a fitted gray sports coat. He looked good in anything.
It had been about an hour and a half since we’d spoken, and sitting there I got my first message from him in far too long.
Casey: Cory got here. They said she was going to start pushing soon and kicked me out. Probably won't be that long.
Me: Thanks for the update.
Casey: I said I would let you know.
Me: I know.
Me: Are we still fighting? I think it's obvious that I didn't know.
Casey: Didn't know? We haven't talked since February. Didn't you notice?
Me: Yes I noticed. So who won?
He didn't answer right away, and in that time, they'd called for boarding. I watched my phone diligently. I knew I'd have to turn it off soon, but I was enjoying the communication with him too much to miss his message.
It wasn't until I had my carry-on stowed and my seat belt secured before I received one back.
Casey: Can we see each other?
The correct answer was no. In true Blake fashion, I didn't get it right.
Me: I hope so.
Casey: Not for sex. I just want to see you.
Me: Will you be at the hospital?
Casey: I don't know. Text me when you land.
Me: Okay.
It was stupid and I knew it. I shouldn't want to see him or talk to him or any of the other nine thousand things that I wanted to do.
I powered my phone back up when we were told it was safe.
Casey: We have a boy!! Foster Eugene Moore 7lbs, 2oz Bald as a door knob.
Casey: Hurry up.
Casey: Serious, don't planes go faster than this? I don't remember it taking this long.
Casey: I'm going to meet you at baggage claim.
My heart raced. He was going to be there. Or he was there. I checked the time on the last message. It had been about thirty minutes, there was a good chance he was there and waiting for me already. The person next to me couldn't move fast enough. I needed off that plane.
I had been preparing for my wedding.
I had been readying a house to be a home.
I had all of these things to be excited about, yet it was knowing that a goofy, vagabond gypsy of a man was waiting for me. For that I was truly excited.
As soon as I was free of the small seats, I flung open the latch and grabbed my bag. All of my courteous traveler manners had escaped me. I didn't let people go first. I didn't speak my pleasantries to the flight staff as I exited. I was going to see Casey.
I ran down the ramp to the terminal, I was familiar enough with San Francisco International to know which way to head.
Then there he was. Sunglasses on his head. Curls casually laying how they did. He wore colorful striped long shorts and a blue, zip-up Bay Brewing hoodie. It wasn't a sexy look on anyone but him. As I got closer, our eyes met.
I was heaving my carry-on and my bag and I felt like I weighed three hundred pounds. I couldn't move fast enough.
He walked slowly toward me with a fantastic smile.
“Did you know that the end of What's Up Doc with Barbra Streisand and Ryan O'Neal was filmed almost right where we're standing?” he said like we'd just seen each other the day before.
I dropped my bag and wrapped myself around him.
Not at first, but after a few seconds, I felt him hug me back. He smelled like him. My lungs had an infinite amount of space and I feared I'd suck his shirt straight up my nose. I felt relieved. Then when he adjusted his hold and latched onto me tighter, kissing the top of my head, I felt home.
“I hate missing you,” I said into his chest.
“Then stop missing me,” he said.
“I don't know how. Don't you miss me?” I looked up at him. His face was scruffy, but trimmed and magnificent.
“Not any more than usual.”
He let me hold onto him a little longer, then he braced my shoulders and pulled away. The worst feeling in the world was Casey letting me go. I thought, I didn't even remember kissing Grant when he dropped me off. Maybe, I hadn't.
He picked up my bag and I followed him out. When we got to a car, he hit the key-fob and the horn startled me.
“Is this yours?” I asked.
“No, it's Morgan's. I stole it to pick you up.”
Wow. Morgan had a car. She was sixteen already? When we’d first me she was only fifteen, but I supposed it had almost been a year ago. A whole year. Then I tried to remember what day it was when Casey and I first met.
“You're quiet,” he said, as we pulled into traffic. The knowledge that this was the first time I'd ever ridden, with him driving, in the car buzzed through my mind, as I desperately tried to remember when we'd met.
“I'm trying to remember something,” I said deep in thought.
“Like what,” he said, switching lanes and accelerating.
“What day we met,” I said before I could lie.
“May 23rd,” he said rather speedily.
“May 23rd,” I repeated. My head spun. Why hadn't I realized that before?
“Yeah, are you telling me you don't remember?” He sounded a little offended. His face was scrunched together and he pulled his sunglasses over his eyes.
“No, I remember I just didn't know the date.”
Why had I done that? It felt so wrong and for all of the wrong reasons. When I should have felt guilty for marrying someone on the exact one-year anniversary of my unfaithfulness, I was disgusted that I was marrying Grant on the anniversary of my first night with Casey.
I was the worst.
“Oh, what does it matter?” he said.
I choked a little, that remark had stung, but he didn't know why. He had no reason to feel obtuse about it, like I did.
“It's my wedding date.”
His jaw ticked. And he deflated back into the seat, pressing harder on the gas petal.
“Congratulations,” he said and we didn't speak again for rest of the drive.
We didn't joke.
We didn't laugh.
I was trapped in my head, and he was trapped in my heart. We were both trapped in that little silver hybrid.
He pulled right up to the curb, but didn't get out. I sat and waited for him to say something. Minutes ticked away, until he put the car in park.
“Say something,” I said.
He turned toward me and gave me a weak smile.
“I don't know what you want me to say. I don't know what you want me to do,” he shouted. “I hate this. I hate that you're marrying him. I hate it, Blake! It. F*cking. Sucks. You. F*cking. Suck.”
“I suck!?” I yelled back. Our voices booming in the small space. “Yeah, you know what? I know I suck. I f*cked up. I f*cked it all up. What did you want me to do?” I asked, trying to lower my voice so that the people walking around outside of the entrance didn't hear.
“I wanted you to tell me you wanted me. Me, Blake. Me!” He hit the steering wheel. “But you never did. You never would. You never will. And I don't know why.”
“What? Where is this coming from? You never wanted a relationship.” I stopped myself before adding you just wanted to f*ck. I remembered how he set me straight the last time I'd accused him of wanting to f*ck-and-run.
“How do you know? I never had the option,” he said, the timbre of his words softer.
“You did, too,” I said under my breath.
He looked at me, but I couldn't see his eyes.
“Take these motherf*ckers off!” I lunged at his glasses and threw them on the dash. Under there was a storm brewing. Green and blue clashing. “There. Now, look at me.”
“I don't know what I should have done differently. I don't know where I misled you. Or why you'd think that I wouldn't. I don't talk to anyone like I talk to you. I don't laugh with anyone like I laugh with you. I don't...” he scrambled for the right word, “God! I haven't had sex with anyone since you. Don't you know that? Don't you know I wanted you?”
“Wanted.”
“I still want you. I always want you. But you want whatever it is that you get from him more. So, it is what it is. Or was. Or what-the-f*ck-ever.” He faced front again. “Micah is waiting for you. Visiting hours are almost over.”
“I think you suck, too,” I added, knowing that the right time to say that had passed, but it had to be said.
We sat there again.
“Let me get my bags out.”
“I'll take them to Cory and Micah's. Just go.”
There really wasn't much more to say. Or there was but we were both too bull-headed to do it. Bull-headed or scared.
So, I left.
The discussion was over.