April 23, 2015


You know the girlfriend foil in all of those rom-coms you grew up watching? The one who slaps the heroine, forces her to pull it together and take back what's hers? 

I have one of those. It has taken me years, but I finally nailed one down. And you can't have her! 

Do you have a girlfriend who wants to pause the day on M Street in order to demand answers from a shady psychic in a dicey, dark parlor? And in the same day, that girlfriend also wants to spend thirty minutes dissecting a Degas on a cold gallery wall. Do you have that friend?! That's Paige! I am in love with her!

We spend hours in the upper loft of a pizza shop with Diet Coke, talking family ties near an open window on an early spring evening. Watch the world buzz below us on the busy street because it's Saturday. We talk lipstick and metaphor. Ambitious men in fitted suits. Cheap dates and cheese plates. 

I can't explain it--I wish I could--but our friendship arrived just when we both needed it. I am very grateful for her.

April 20, 2015

March 26, 2015.

     I lay my head on his chest and pull an arm up to fuss with his shirt buttons. We each wait for the other to speak.
     "So, we're just not going to talk about this?" he asks. 
     I shake my head. "There is nothing I need to say."  
     "Really? Nothing. At all?" 
     I look up at him, seeing only the outline of his chin through the dark. "What were you expecting?" 
     "I don't know," he runs a solitary finger in a straight line across my back. Pins together the wings of my shoulder blades and it feels like a metaphor. "I just got into so much trouble last time we did this--" 
     "Yeah, well, last time was different," I say, "you're not in trouble."
     "What do you mean last time was different? I remember last time being remarkably similar to this time." 
     "Except, no Jimmy Kimmel," I remind him. 
     "No, you're right. No late night television. This time, we sort of just pulled ourselves together in the dark and silence, didn't we?" 
     "And last time, you kissed me goodnight." 
     "What does that have to do with anything?" 
     "Never mind what it has to do with anything. You're not going to do it again."
     "Okay, fair enough," he laughs, "how are you feeling?" 
     "Nothing." I say. He laughs again. "No, honest. I feel nothing. Hollow."
     "Wow," he says. "Never heard that one before."
     "You've never kissed a girl who felt nothing?" I ask, pulling my face up near his.
     "I have to say--this is a first."
     "What, you've never kissed your best friend before?"
     "Not like this, no." My forehead rests against his cheek and I feel the creases, laugh-lines I've always caged a fondness for, melt into me. "Well, so, what's protocol? I mean, what do we do now?"
     "This. Exactly this," I say. He shakes me.
     "What? No."
     "No, I mean it! I'm leaving as soon as I can get out of here. We've already broken the rules and we both enjoyed it. Might as well break them again." I reach a hand up against the light scruff I know takes him weeks to grow and I pull him toward me because I know it works. He doesn't resist, but lightly lines my collarbone with his lips. A minute passes and he wriggles away from me.
     "We can't--I can't do that... this! To you. I can't do it."
     "Yes, you can. I'm practically gone already. This is a free pass. I'm giving you permission."
     "No. I refuse to let us get to that point. You are too important to me," I pull him toward me again, and let him keep talking. Talking, kissing. Collar bone, resisting. "I respect you too much. You mean too much and I don't want you to bolt again."

     Minutes later, we are still beside one another in that bed. That tiny bed inside the little brick house with the big, blue door. I can smell the sheets--cedar wood and mint julep. We're laced together, tastefully disheveled like Venus and Mars in the Botticelli, and I can't make sense of the words I hear him say. Some kind of backwards love ballad.

I can't kiss you, can't touch you again. Because I love you too much.

     And it hurts. Good hell, it hurts.

April 13, 2015

Something cool.

You've missed a lot because I haven't been writing. Well, I have, but my actions are the opposite of well-thought-out and I have no excuse for them. Decided I shouldn't paste them to the interwebs until they've been tweaked and beautified a bit. Right now they're all just messy thoughts and scenes that replay in my head. Every night, dammit.

But here's a condensed breakdown of things that've been happening:

Mostly, spring allergies have kicked in, I've ordered my cap & gown (-$70), I've been avoiding the dishes in my kitchen sink and I've been watching that new show on TV Land with Hilary Duff. Also accidentally but very much on purpose, I've been coaxing Jude into poetry readings and very casual late-night necking and idk what I'm doing with my life right now but I'm definitely saying a lot of yes to it and it's sort of fun.

(This entire blog post was unstable and probably something I should warn my mother not to read. Cheers!)