Two weeks. Two weeks I’ve been in this apartment and I feel trapped. I shouldn’t feel this way – not in my own home. But then again, this isn’t home. I may reside under this roof, in this awful city, but I’ll never live here. I’m a guest. Foreign. Scared.
I thought it would be easier. It was supposed to be different. But he’s changed in so short a time. I don’t recognize the boy who lies next to me every night. I can’t locate the heart I fell in love with. I can’t even recognize my own self when I find my reflection in the mirror.
I have Cat Power’s “The Greatest” playing on the stereo. The song used to mean so much to me. It used to be our song. The lyrics once moved me – taking me back to many nights where Andrew and I sat on the roof-top of his old apartment back home. He was so innocent back then. So charming. So smitten by everything I did. And I would sit next to him, smoking a joint, listening to his dreams – knowing he wanted nothing more than to kiss me while I played hard to get. It took a year before we finally slept together. We were best friends first, lovers second. I really made him work for it… maybe I’m being punished for that? Maybe if I had given myself to Andrew sooner, this wouldn’t be happening now.
He says I’m crazy to think this, but I fear I’m losing him. And Part of me, in the softest area of my heart, thinks I may already have.
I just can’t adapt as quickly as he expects. That shouldn’t be something I’m shunned for. It’s only natural. I’m not strong like Andrew. He’s been around. He grew up in cities his whole life. With an exception for that one time the two of us went to New York, I had never been out of the town I was born in.
That’s another thing I know he just won’t ever let me live down – the New York trip. He’s told me over and over again he had gotten over it – that he didn’t care – but I know that just can’t be true. I’ll never be able to forgive myself for New York. And now, sitting in this apartment, in this awful city, I can’t help but to wonder what might have happened for us if I had stayed? We’d probably be together right now. Who knows? My mind’s a mess. I’m a mess.
About six-months back we tried this once before. Andrew was all primed to move out to New York. I was terrified. I didn’t want to leave my family – especially my dad – but Andrew would have gone sooner or later, with or without me, and I loved him… I still love him.
We left behind the house I had lived in and worked hard to maintain for five years, packed up a U-Haul with the essentials, and took off for New York in the span of a weekend. I hardly had enough time to say goodbye to all my friends.
The drive from Central Illinois to New York took one night. I drove the whole way. Andrew didn’t have a license at the time.
He was so cute in the passenger seat – like a puppy going out for a drive in the country. He had a little handheld camera during the whole trip and almost everything we passed was film-worthy. The grime of Indianapolis, the hills of Pennsylvania, and eventually our entering New York through the Lincoln Tunnel (I think that’s what it was called).
His eyes lit up the minute we hit the city. You could tell he was finally home again. It was a look I had never seen in him before. Yet as ecstatic as he may have been, I was the polar opposite. Every aspect of the city shook my core in the most awful of ways describable. I could hardly maintain my driving. I felt a rush of vertigo. The buildings towering above me had a trapping presence about them. I forgot that the sun existed. The sea of people all around, walking to who-knows-where with absolutely no regard for the others around them… all those strangers… all those separate lives working at such a rapid pace… I was terrified. I knew I could never live like that. I would never want to – even with the love of my life by my side – because after all, what kind of life would that be?
Despite my rapid heartbeat I willed myself to keep driving to what was intended to be our apartment. The skies were dark gray and scorn with pollution. Homeless were scattered about, treating the streets like their own private toilet-bowls for everyone in the world to see.
I wanted so desperately to make it work but I knew deep inside I couldn’t. I wanted to go home. I wanted to see my dad. I wanted things to be how they used to – Andrew in his apartment dreaming of doing bigger and better things – but not actually following through. When they’re no more than dreams things are safe and familiar. It’s the journey into the unknown that shook me to the bone.
When we arrived to the apartment I had finally lost it. The tears kept flowing. I fell to the floor and apologized – telling Andrew there was no way I could stay. I was sick to my stomach. Terrified he would leave me behind right then and there; in a place I was truly terrified.
But he didn’t.
I didn’t have to ask him twice. He simply gave me a hug, helped me up from the floor, and within an hour we were in a hotel in New Jersey getting some rest before the drive back to Central Illinois.
“I love New York” he said, “But I love you more. I’ll take you any way and anywhere I can get you.”
I fell apart. As happy as I was to be going home and to have a boyfriend who loved me so much he’d sacrifice his dreams just to have me satisfied – I couldn’t forgive myself for shattering whatever hopes and aspirations he may have had. I kept thinking back on the look of his face when we drove into the city and contrasted it with the look on his face as we made our way out… I sprawled out on the bed in my jeans crying the entire night. I couldn’t even look him in the eyes. Even as he sat above me brushing his fingers through my hair, whispering into my ear that everything would be alright, that he loved me – I knew what I had taken from him, what I had asked him to give up, would be something he’d never be able to forget.
On the drive home I felt better with every mile we got closer to Illinois. We must have hit every rest-stop on the way to make-out more passionately than we ever had before. He kept assuring me that he was fine, that he loved me and that we would work something out. It would be okay he said.
Somewhere about ten miles outside my Dad’s hometown the look came over him – a darkness and sadness that far eclipsed my own when we had arrived in New York. I saw in his eyes that as much as I loathed the city and everything it represented, Andrew felt ten-fold about what I had known as home for my entire life. I reached for his hand and he held onto me tightly. He was quiet for awhile, and then while staring straight ahead he said in the calmest of fashions, “I don’t think I can take this town much longer Lauren. We’re going to have to go somewhere else. I don’t know where and I don’t know when, but I’m going to have to leave soon.”
And that was all he had said. He mentioned nothing about taking me with him. Nothing about needing me with him. He was simply going to have to leave sometime soon.
It was then I knew that I’d have to go with him the second time around. I owed him that much. I had to make the sacrifice he had made for me. It was only fair. That’s how it works when two people are in love.
And in love I was.
And in love I still am.
Despite the hardships we’re encountering right now, I’m sure we’ll get over the hump. That’s what people do in relationships – find a mutual compromise. Andrew left New York with me and endured what I knew as home longer than he had to. Surely I can extend him the same compromise. After all, how long can it possibly take for him to get famous? I’ve never seen him act before but I know he had to be good at it. Why else would he pursue it with such passion? He’s sure to make it big. All it takes is a little bit of determination… and he’s chock-full of that.
And then who knows what will happen? Maybe after he gets an acting job we can move back to Central Illinois. He can come back here when he gets a job or something... yeah, that’s what we can do. That’s why actors have agents isn’t it? His agent can get him work from here in Los Angeles and we can live out our lives back home… on a little piece of land not too far from my dad’s place. I can take care of the house and dress it up for him while he prepares for his acting jobs. It sounds like a fair compromise. Very doable. Sure he isn’t too into country life right now, but I’m sure he’ll learn to love it. And besides, all of Los Angeles can’t be that bad. Maybe we can get a house on the beach and live there during the summer time. I’ve never seen the beach before but I’ve always wanted to live by it.
That’s what we’ll do. I just have to rough it out a little longer and things will be back to how they used to be… better than they used to be!
I start to feel a little better about everything and decide to change the music. Cat Power brings back too many memories – although good memories, I can’t bear to recall so many wonderful nights while things hurt so bad right now. I need to assign new songs to this new part of our life – maybe The Clientele. And who knows, some day in the future I’ll listen to one of their albums like Suburban Light and be able to look back on this dark time with a smile on my face.
I put on The Clientele’s We Could Walk Together and turn up the volume. I close my eyes and sway in place. I envision Andrew and me dancing by a fireplace on a quiet Midwestern night. We’re drinking wine (since he’s back to drinking now) and he’s rubbing my belly because I just found out I’m pregnant. The phone is off the hook and we’re completely cut off from the world around. All that exists is us and the new life we’ll bring into the world. There’s no late-night parties, no networking possibilities, no fifteen-hour days for meager pay… no fights.
I fall back on the futon and allow my mind to relax. I chase all my suspicions and worries away and replace them with daydreams of my future with Andrew… a future where both of us are happy. I reach over to the night table and find my wooden stash-box Andrew bought for me at a record store a year ago on the college campus. I bring it to my nose and draw in its scent – remembering the times in which it came from. I become intoxicated by it.
The mellow sounds of The Clientele drown out the chaos of the city beyond the walls of our apartment. For the first time since our arrival, I’ve managed to find myself at peace. I assure myself whatever it is Andrew has done since we’ve arrived and whatever it is he’s doing now is for us. It’s selfish of me to think otherwise. I’m sure it’s hard for him to have me sitting idle in the apartment, not bringing in any money, just because I’m scared of the city around us. He can’t enjoy sitting on a movie set for hours on end for less than minimum wage. He’s working hard toward his dreams – and in turn – working toward our future together.
I touch myself and smile, realizing how in love I still am with Andrew. I decide when he returns I’ll tell him how sorry I am. How wrong I was to doubt him. We’ve known each other for two years now. There’s been far too much good to be outweighed by two short weeks… two short weeks in which my ramped mind has probably caused more trouble than any amount of late-night parties ever could.
I open the stash-box and pull out a half-smoked joint leftover from last-night. Our first week here Andrew drove around for two hours trying to find me a bag of pot – and he doesn’t even smoke. How could I have forgotten about that? And speaking of the grass, however much I may hate Los Angeles, I’ve never in my life smoked stuff this good.
I bring a flame to the joint and breath in the course smoke and hold it into my lungs until there’s nothing left to exhale. After two or three drags the drug starts to work at full effect – The sounds of the music around me envelope my entire body. I close my eyes and the movie theater inside my frontal lobe plays back memories of smoking on Andrew’s roof. Memories of making love to him. Memories of kissing him.
This has been my first high in California not laden with paranoia and panic. All and all it’s been a good day.
I let the high ride and plan out how I’m going to attack Andrew the moment he walks in the door. He won’t even have a moment to say hello. His belt will be off and pants on the floor before he even realizes what happened. Afterword I’ll apologize for the way I’ve behaved the past two weeks and assure him things will be different from here on out. From this moment on, he’ll never want for my support again.
God I love that boy!
As I put out the joint my cell phone dances on the night-table. I pick it up and read the display. I’ve received a text message. It’s from Andrew. It reads:
Shoot’s been extended. Working past midnight. Getting paid double. Can’t make calls on set. Will text with updates. Luv A.
For a moment a rush of panic floods over me. Almost instinctually a list of worst-case scenarios runs rapidly over my mind but I quickly dismiss them. Today’s a new day and Andrew has certainly earned the benefit of the doubt. Of course there’s nothing to worry about. He’s working hard for both of us.
I replace my phone on the night table, lean back on the futon, and let a smile grace my face for the first time in weeks. Today I feel luckier than ever before… and despite Andrew’s late schedule tonight, nothing has changed in regards to my plans for the evening. I don’t care if he gets home at three in the morning and has to wake up at six; he’s getting the fuck of a lifetime.
I begin to giggle at how uncharacteristically naughty I am being just as my cell phone vibrates to life again. Someone’s calling. It has to be Andrew!
I quickly rush to the phone and see a number I don’t recognize with a 323 area code. Probably a payphone on the set.
“Hello!” I answer, longing to hear Andrew’s voice.
“Uh yeah, is this Lauren?” A nervous voice I don’t recognize asks.
“This is” I respond – unable to shield the disappointment from my rhetoric.
“This is Tad, a friend of Andrew’s…” He says.
My heart sinks. Here I wanted nothing more than to hear the voice of the boy I love and tell him how sorry I am… and instead I’m stuck with one of Andrew’s new friends – the very reason behind all the trouble we’ve had lately.
“I’m sorry to bother you. Andrew gave me your number as a second way to get a hold of him when we first met on set. I’ve tried calling his cell phone but it goes straight to voice mail…”
Of course his phone goes straight to voicemail; I think to myself, he’s working. For some reason, I automatically assume this stranger is a potential bad influence for Andrew so I decline giving him any information. I simply stay silent and wait for him to state his business.
“… anyway, we’re supposed to go out tonight and he was going to meet me at my place. I gave him my address and all but something’s come up so I’m not going to be at my apartment for about forty minutes.” He explains, completely confusing me as I know Andrew’s on set all night tonight. Whoever this Tad guy is, he has to be mistaken. “I know he’s taking the subway to his car and his mailbox is full so I was wondering if you could call him and let him know I’ll be thirty-minutes late so he won’t be sitting around wondering where I am.”
“I guess I could call him for you but I don’t think it will do much good. He’s going to be at work all night. They extended his shoot.” I tell this Tad guy as calmly as possible – fighting every urge in my body to tell this jerk to lose mine and my boyfriend’s number.
“No we got off about twenty minutes ago. We don’t have to go back until Wednesday. That’s why Rachael invited us to the fashion show at Boulevard 3.” He says casually as if I missed a memo.
“No you’re mistaken. I just got a text from him…” I start just as key words of what this Tad had just said begin to sink in. My mind races. I compose myself and calmly ask, “Wait a minute, did you just say you were on set with Andrew?”
“Yeah!” he exclaims as one would after a second grade student spells a word right for the first time, “and his mail box is full. I’ll be tied up for the next thirty and won’t even be able to use my phone. Just tell him to wait for me in the lobby of my building. I’ll try to get there as soon as possible.”
“The two of you are going to some fashion show tonight?” I ask as the blood rushes to my head.
“Yeah it starts at nine but we’re going to hang at my place for a few.”
“And you said a girl named Rachael invited the two of you?”
“Yeah! Rachael from the party Saturday night.”
My hands begin to shake. I become light headed. If I weren’t sitting down, I probably would have fainted. “He just sent me a text message!” I say, unable to hide the rage in my voice. “He said he’s going to be working late tonight! Why would he tell me that if he wasn’t going to be working? Why would my boyfriend of two years lie to me?”
“Umm…” Realizing he’s said too much, Tad pathetically attempts to put out his fire by offering, “maybe he’s uh, you know, trying to surprise you… because he’s going to, like, take you as his date or something.”
Without thinking I launch the phone against the wall. It shatters into five or six pieces. Great, I think to myself, there goes my only way of calling Andrew. Now it’s going to be a real chore keeping him from going to this thing tonight….
Then I think to myself, why even try to stop him? If some fashion show with this Tad and Rachael is where he wants to be, how the hell am I going to change that? Even if he doesn’t go, it will only be because I stopped him. All night he’ll be wishing he was somewhere else and hating every moment he’s with me. Then I’m sure we’ll get into a fight… a fight that will end with him weaseling his way into making me out into the bad guy. But I’m not the bad guy, he is.
Two weeks! Two short weeks and he’s already lying to me! God only knows what he’s been up to. Why I didn’t trust my initial instincts I’ll never know. And here I was just a moment ago giving him the benefit of the doubt. I was stupid to think things are going to be perfect. Things are only going to get worse.
I lost Andrew the minute we left Illinois. Hell, I lost Andrew the minute we left New York.
I should leave. Why should I even bother? What can I even do to make things better? Threaten to leave? Andrew wouldn’t care. It’s demented to think he would just pack up and leave just because, yet again, Lauren isn’t happy and wants to go home.
This isn’t New York…
LA is a whole other animal…
