Locked Out

I had to go back to the old apartment on Grand Street. The roommate and I had left some miscellaneous items there and I also wanted to sweep the place out and leave it in some kind of order.

It was a hot June evening. Hot for New York in June. I had broken a sweat just walking from the new apartment to the old. I wanted to complete this task as quickly as possible. The Mormon and I were meeting later that night and it had been too long since we had last seen each other at the X-Men. I thought maybe things were about to take a change for the better.

As I climbed the stairs to the old apartment, I remembered a dream I had right after we were robbed. I walked into the bathroom at night because I had heard a sound. I slowly opened the bathroom door and the medicine cabinet was open. I looked in and the cabinet itself had been removed and it opened up to another apartment from which the robbers had come in and out of our apartment, stealing our things. I peered in and saw someone move off in the corner and I jumped back and slammed the door, terrified. I stumbled back in to my bedroom and watched the medicine cabinet door open and strange masked men with long, lanky legs and arms climb out one by one. I woke up.

Yes, I was free of this place finally. A quick sweep and gather the remaining stuff and then I was gone. I went down the hallway to our apartment, the hallway that shrouded whomever it was that had come in and out in the middle of the day, and put my key into the lock. It wouldn't go in. Strange. I tried the bottom lock. The same problem. Had the locks been changed already? We still had the lease for another few days as there was an overlap. We didn't tell the landlords we had moved out two weeks early. I looked at the door. There were scratches and dents around the lock. Interesting. Then I peered into the key holes. Ah, yes. There in our reinforced MUL-T-LOCK lock was a broken key.

After the last break-in, we had paid to put in those $500 locks that no one can get through. And this is why. The super who had so easily come in and out of our apartment so many times before had now broken off both his keys inside both locks. I felt a strange feeling of calm wash over me. I was also thrilled that the landlords, who wanted nothing to do with the break-in and failed to take any responsibility, would now have to pay a locksmith or someone a shit load of money to take the door off the hinges to get in to the apartment and even more money for new locks.

And I didn't have to sweep.

So I sent the Mormon a text that I would be available earlier. Just wanted to run home and shower. He said he would pick me up. Weird. When did he fix the problem with his license? Where were we going?

When the doorbell rang, I ran down the stairs. I hadn't planned on it but I was dressed entirely in white. White t-shirt, white shorts, white socks and white sneakers. I threw the door open and threw my arms around him. He slowly unwrapped himself from me and looked me over.

"You look so...pure."

Thanks. I guess. I laughed and asked where we were going.

"Fortunato's for some gelato?"

Perfect.

As we sat in the car I rambled on about the door and the locks and the wasted time. I talked about the new apartment and how our landlord had started taking Ripley during the day into their office to play with Ruby and would leave hysterical cartoons on post-it notes on our door illustrating what mischief they had gotten into during the day.

The Mormon was silent, listening. We found a parking spot easily and went in and ordered our gelato. I always got the same: a scoop of cafe and a scoop of ciacalatto. Delicious and just right for this hot night. The sun was still out and it was a perfect evening.

"Should we walk a little?" the Mormon asked.

Yeah sure, I answered through a mouthful of ice cream.

There was silence and then a deep breath in and then he said, "I think we should see other people."

What?

"It's been a while and..."

Almost six months. The day after tomorrow. Six months.

That was a big deal for me. It was certainly the longest I had been able to maintain a relationship since Present Ex. It was also , I felt, only the first six months. The first six months of a lifetime. I didn't feel as if I had been hit in the stomach. It wasn't that abrupt. I felt like I had been sideswiped. I couldn't see straight. I had lost my balance. I was experiencing vertigo. I didn't know where to focus and couldn't have even if I wanted to.

"Yes," he said. "Almost six months. And I just don't feel like we're going anywhere. It's not changing or evolving. When I look at myself in the future, I don't see you as part of it."

But you said you loved me.

"Yes. I did. JV, you make me feel...light."

What? What the fuck does that mean? Light? As opposed to what? Heavy, I guess. But what does 'you make me feel light' mean? I didn't say that. I couldn't. What could I possibly say?

I had stopped walking, of course, and just stood looking directly at him. I was trying to read something in his behavior that would give me a clue as to what was going on. But he wouldn't make eye contact with me.

"Can we keep walking?"

Sure.

Silence.

"I've enjoyed the time we've spent together. I've had a lot of fun. But I don't feel like this is...forever."

I do. I did. I thought...I don't know what I thought.

We were on Devoe Street, passing the hipsters and the Italian kids playing ball in the street while their parents or grandparents sat on the stoop watching over them. I realized I was standing in front of the building where my friend Carlee used to live before she moved back to Boca Raton. I could feel the cars rushing down the street creating a hot breeze that felt nice on my skin because I had gone cold inside. As we passed a trash can I threw the rest of my uneaten gelato in. I couldn't even look at it anymore. We crossed the street and we were standing in front of his truck. I had to put my hand on the hood to hold myself up and I could hardly see for holding back the tears. Like a scratched record "You make me feel light" kept repeating over and over in my head.

I wasn't going to fight. It wasn't worth it. I didn't want to fight to hold on to a love. That's not the way it should be. And all of a sudden I felt like I was going to vomit. And I couldn't look at him anymore.

I'm going to go, I said.

"Do you want me to drive you?"

No.

"I didn't mean to break your heart." He said that. He dared say that.

I looked at him and said, It's not broken. Only cracked. And it'll heal. And you didn't break it. It was my responsibility. My heart is only mine to give away and I let you have it.

And I turned and walked away. I needed to walk. I needed to walk in a direction where he couldn't or wouldn't pass by in his car. I found myself in a small, noisy triangle of a park right by the BQE. I fell down on a bench and let the sorrow wash over me. Despite all the signs, despite my own reservations, I had held on to the hope that the Mormon and I would live happily ever after. That somehow, we would find common ground and a common language. That we could create something beautiful together out of the mess of our past. But I was wrong. And tears streamed down my face and fluid poured out of my nose and I looked horrible. I felt almost too weak to stand but I knew I couldn't sit there for the rest of the night.

The sun was setting and as I let myself in to the new apartment building I felt the cool that always seemed to be trapped in the first floor foyer and it was nice. I walked heavily up the stairs and heard Ripley bark. He was the last thing I wanted to deal with at the moment. I couldn't take care of anything else but me right now. I opened the door and my roommate was cooking dinner on the stove. Pink and orange light from the sunset cast a glow over the apartment.

"That was fast," she said.

He broke up with me, I mumbled and continued to walk toward my bedroom.

"What? Why? What?"

He broke up with me. I don't know. I'm going to bed.

I walked in to my bedroom and shut the door. I wanted to shut out the world. I looked at the phone hoping I had missed a call or a text from him. Hoping he had changed his mind. Nothing. I curled up in bed and looked out at the evening sky. I wanted to throw myself up into it and float away but I sank like a weight, deeper into the bed. I was so heavy. I made him feel "light" and I was sinking like a stone.

I tried to cry more hoping it would relieve the heaviness but there were no more tears to be had. I lie in bed in silence. I waited for the sounds in the living room to fade away. I waited for the roommate to shut off the tv and go to bed. I waited and waited as the pink and orange slowly gave way to a deep blue and the amber street light outside my window came on and illuminated my room. I shut the shade. I didn't want any light. It hurt my eyes. I heard a whimper outside my door and I pushed myself up and without even getting out of bed, opening it enough to let the dog in. I was still wearing my sneakers. I kicked them off and got under the covers. The dog climbed up on to my chest and licked my face. My tears must have left it salty. When he realized I was being unresponsive, he let out a huff and jumped on to the window sill and lay down, making himself comfortable and watching the people come and go on the street.

I knew sleep wouldn't come that night. But I prayed for it. I needed something to take me away.