2008-02-24 - 10:24 a.m.
A few weeks ago I read this piece (actually, Nya read it for me as I was slurring pretty bad) at a bookstore. It�s part of the final essay in my book and will doubtless go through countless revisions. You may notice it�s part of a re-working of this entry..Here it is:
Okay. Okay, I could marvel at this endlessly and still never get to the bottom of it. This is the story of how I got my groove back and, more than that, of one of the most beautiful experiences I�ve ever had. I knew Nya lived in Denver, where I was visiting. I wanted to see her and catch up. We didn�t talk much after high school (in fact, we barely spoke to each other at all in later high school after we�d stopped going out) and I�d heard she�d had some hard times. There were rumors: she was a junkie, she was a stripper.
But I heard nonsense about a lot of people, including myself, and I thought that she felt bitterly towards me, so I tried not to be too distressed over rumored dire straits. The last time I saw her was like eight years before at a friend�s memorial service (RIP, Kate). Everyone was so broken up that we couldn�t even think about where we wanted to go afterwards to drown our sorrows. Nya (who had quite an entourage in tow as I recall: boyfriend, boyfriend�s friend, boyfriend�s friend�s friend) was so strung out that she was all hyped to go to some cool bar she�d heard about. We were all too distraught to do anything but follow her.
At that rate, she seemed to be heading for a bad end. When I got back in touch with her online the previous year, I was very happy to find that she wasn�t dead and wasn�t a junkie any longer. I was sort of worried about seeing her in person now, with me as a crip. But I figured � we both figured � it would be pretty much �Great to catch up! Wasn�t high school crazy?�, air kiss, have a nice life.
She was smoking a cigarette and I was sitting on the hood of a parked car after my friend had dropped me off by where she was working. It was so surprisingly unbelievable to see her in the flesh. I�d forgotten how beautiful she is.
�Wow,� I said. I tried to play it cool, but I couldn�t.
Nya came over to the car I was sitting on and sat on the sidewalk next to it.
�Yeah, that�s what I�m saying.�
�You look great.�
�Cut the bullshit. Let me finish my cigarette and I�ll kiss you hello.�
�Fifteen years?�
�Since we went out? Sixteen. 1988-89.�
�The tail end of New York�s bad old days. Well, I guess they went on for a few more years.� Okay, now would be a good point to stop talking.
Nya tossed her cigarette away.
�Yeah. It�s good to see you too.�
She stood up and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
�So, you�re a married woman now? Ceremony with Charo, wasn�t it?�
She looked down. �No, that didn�t happen.�
�Oh. Shit. I don�t know what to say. I�m sorry? You go, girl?�
She smiled at that. �Yeah, pretty much both those.�
�I hope you guys are still friends at least?�
�This is kinda intense with someone I just met again.�
�Right. Sorry.�
Neither of us spoke. I found myself looking at the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. That part of her had fascinated me so much back in the day. Whoa. This was not an appropriate line of thinking for a moment like this. I needed to snap out of it. I shook my head to clear it.
�We broke up last month and we still live together,� she eventually came out with.
I nodded. �Yeah. I can relate. Sleeping next to your ex. Been there, done that.�
�Well, we have a 2-bedroom.�
�At least there�s space.�
�Yeah.� Nya squinted at me and stood up.
�What was that show we were in in high school?� I asked.
�You Never Can Tell by Shaw. We played twins.�
I nodded. That had been when we started dating. Before I was scared of her. Although looking at her now, I couldn�t remember what I was afraid of.
�You know your voice sounds husky like Kathleen Turner now.�
�Side-benefit of smoking, I guess. Kathleen Turner, huh,� she smiled. �Do you want to get a drink?�
I was kind of nervous about her seeing me crip around outside, but I didn�t want to let on. �Sure,� I said.
It turned out the bar was about a block and a half through a pedestrian mall. The distance was kind of a stretch for me, but fortunately it was to the left, so I had a wall to grab with my stronger left hand. I�m not sure I could have done it the other direction. For the last part, we had to cross the street catty-corner and Nya had to help me. Instead of using her right shoulder to balance with my left hand like I�ve done with others, she slung my arm around her left side and grabbed me around the waist. That felt about right.
We sat at a table off by ourselves.
�I always get Chardonnay,� Nya said, taking out a new cigarette. �I even created a character called that for comedy sketches.�
She lit her cigarette off the candle on the table and took on a brassy accent.
�That�s Chardonnay with a C-H-A!� she said with a snarl, rocking her upper body back and forth for emphasis. �They even did an article about me in the Denver Post!�
I started laughing, then stopped myself. �Wait, she sounds a bit like a caricature of a black homegirl��
�No, she�s white trash. I wore a long blond wig when I played her. You can�t play other races in the improv theater I�m in. House rule.�
I nodded and raised my mug. �Hey to old friends.�
�Yeah.� She clicked her glass with mine.
I took a big gulp of beer and it hit me pretty hard. Must be the altitude, I thought.
�So I�m very happy you seem to have found your true calling,� I said.
�Well, improv�s been good to me. Even if it is a little dorky. Or a lot dorky, like just a step above Ren Fair.�
Nya took another drag of her cigarette and exhaled the smoke through her nose. Wait a minute� I was having some sort of flashback� That smell! Cigarette smoke and her. Her skin, hair, body, heat! I was overwhelmed with the memory of her in my youth. Whoa. I thought I�d better drink more.
�So you�re an Ivy League graduate now,� she said, sipping her wine.
I put down my beer. �At the tender age of 31.�
�You must know a lot of stuff,� she said over the rim of her glass. �Do you know what I�m thinking?�
�Well, I know what I�m thinking and it�s kind of embarrassing.�
I took another drink of beer.
�What are you thinking?�
�Well,� I said, wiping my mouth. �I�m thinking I�m such a lightweight these days. Partly it may be the altitude here and partly I actually have dropped from middle- to junior welterweight. But I haven�t even finished one drink and I�m already feeling tipsy.�
�Yay!� Nya clapped her hands. �You�re a cheap date!�
I took another gulp of beer. I�d need to be a bit tipsier to say what else I was thinking.
�Also,� I came out with. �As I�ve been sitting here, I�ve been noticing more and more how incredibly beautiful you still are. And I think I want to kiss you. But here�s the thing: I�m no longer agile enough to smoothly lean across the table and do so. So if we�re going to kiss, you�ll have to make the first move.�
She looked at me and narrowed her eyes. �Let me take this last drag and we�ll talk about it.�
Hoo. I�d gotten that out. I closed my eyes and prepared to be disappointed.
I heard the table rattling. Nya had fallen leaning over it. �Blah!�
�Man,� I smiled. �I thought I was supposed to be the one that falls.�
�What?� she said, dusting herself off. �That�s my move!�
�Very slick.� We grinned at each other.
Then we kissed. It was so unreal. It felt so amazingly familiar and so absolutely, undeniably right. After fifteen years. Sixteen!
�Hey, that was real nice,� I said as we separated.
�Well, like I said, I try.�
And then? Neither of us were really sure how to proceed. She asked me to come out again and see her the next month when the ex is on a road trip. She was moving to Chicago soon to study comedy writing. And to start a new life. Again, I could certainly relate. I know it seemed facially ludicrous for me to want to move out there and join her. But it felt so completely right. I thought I needed to think things through a lot.
� 2008 Geoff Gladstone
If you�ve ever enjoyed my writing, please donate to the Accelerated Cure Project for Multiple Sclerosis and/or the Montel Williams MS Foundation.
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