Memphis and Gray, Week 15 - January
1097 Words
Gray,
Well, that was fun.
Is it crazy to say I think I’m having separation anxiety after spending so much time with you? I’m really impressed we didn’t get sick of each other. At least, I didn’t get sick of you.
It’s weird being back. As I mentioned to you, I got together with Tally and Bridge this past weekend, before school started back up, and things seem… well, different, somehow.
It’s like they’ve made up, but they’ve… changed. Both of them.
I guess, technically, I have, too. I almost feel like I lost my virginity to you over the holidays, which, of course, makes no sense at all. But I do feel different. In a good way.
Anyway, Bridget’s birthday is in two weeks, and in my efforts to get all of us back to normal, I’ve informed her that I’ll be hijacking her house to throw her a party. Obviously, you’re invited.
And obviously, we need to see each other before that.
Love,
Mem
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Mem,
The separation anxiety thing? Not crazy at all. Or at least, if it is crazy, then I’m right there in crazy land with you.
Of course, I didn’t get sick of you. I wish we could have stayed together in that cabin forever, baby. I really do.
(Preferably with our clothes off, like they were for most of the trip, but I’m not picky.)
Tally and Bridget seeming different to you makes sense to me. Bridget’s halfway out now, which means she’s figuring out a whole lot of new options for how to act around you two. And Tally had a heart-wrenching breakup, so, you know, she’s probably just hurting.
As for you feeling different, I’m not sure how to take that. I’m glad you added the “in a good way” addendum, or I think I’d be worried about you.
Okay—I’m still worried about you. Can you please go and see Kai’s mom again, Mem? I know you keep saying you’re okay, but I know this s*x thing was a big deal for you, and even though I’m so, so glad you didn’t have any panic attacks or really any problems at all, I’m still worried that maybe deep down, you are having problems and just not talking to me about them, or possibly even not admitting them to yourself.
Do it for me, if not for you?
Love,
Gray
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Gray,
You probably gathered this already without my having to say it, but here it is: I don’t like therapy.
I don’t like talking about this stuff. I don’t like reliving it. I don’t like discussing the fact that I have no idea who it even was that was inside me for the first time.
Why can’t I just move on from it? Why is it considered “healthy” for me to linger on it and talk about it, when closure is impossible, anyway, since we’ll never know who did it?
I didn’t have any panic attacks with you because I trust you. Because you were kind and gentle and careful and you kept whispering things in my ear that made me feel safe and warm and happy. If I’ve found someone I’m that comfortable with, and can successfully fornicate with him (okay, unsexy choice of word, sorry), doesn’t that mean I’ve moved on?
I really love you, Gray, and I would do just about anything for you. But I really don’t want to go to therapy. Please don’t keep asking me.
Love,
Mem
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Mem,
I’m sorry for pushing you. I know it hurts, and it kills me to make you hurt.
I want to help you—you have no idea how much I want to help you. I’ve even doing my own recon, you know, trying to figure out who the hell this lion tattoo bastard is. I don’t think it’s impossible that we find him and get you closure that way. But I think also, maybe, there are other ways of getting it.
Of course I like to think that your being able to “fornicate” (agreed, unsexy word. Maybe… “tumble?”) with me and not freak out means you’ve moved on, but I’m not so sure it does. And I don’t think either of us is qualified enough to make that call.
All that being said, I can’t and won’t make you go, and I respect you too much to keep pushing this if you’re telling me not to. So I’ll leave it alone, at least for a while.
Just know that I think it’s a mistake, Mem, not to go. And it hurts me that you’re not going, because I know it hurts you, whether you admit it or not.
But I still love you, and I want to see you this weekend, because waiting until Bridget’s birthday party would be criminal.
Love,
Gray
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Gray,
I told you—I don’t even think the lion tattoo thing is a real memory. I think it’s probably some made-up image I concocted because the reality of not knowing what he looked like seemed so much worse.
(Who needs therapy? I’ve got this.)
I got an audition for a band this weekend. I know it’s pretty late in the game to be joining a band, given when graduation is and all, but I thought it might be fun. Weirdly enough, the lead singer is Taylor—the girl who accidentally outed Bridge. As soon as I found that out, I told Bridge I wouldn’t go, but she actually loved the idea and urged me to do it.
Something tells me this means she isn’t over Taylor, and sees this as an opportunity to win her back. Which I think is actually a really great idea, only she’s going to have to come out to more than just us if she wants a shot with this girl, after what she did.
Baby steps, though, eh?
Anyway, beers at the Velvet Room after the audition? And then maybe a visit to our favorite, abandoned Lutheran church for a little tumbling?
Love,
Mem
- Writer
