that summer i did not go crazy

but i wore very close to the bone

the night sweats were surprising and terrible. i wake up, it’s not quite night time but it’s not quite the morning either, with my silk night dress sticking to my chest and to my thighs. everything feels humid and hot, my hands feel swollen, my feet feel like they are resting on hot coal - i feel bloated and the wetness all over my body makes me feel filthy and disgusting. i know i will have to wash my bedding again. the cool air flowing through my apartment windows makes me feel too aware of the sheen of sweat that i am slick with. it gives me a chill. i wrap myself in my thin yellow blanket until i fall asleep again, only to wake up covered in my own dampness in the morning.

jeremy tells me about the women he’s been on dates with. we’re at our favorite italian restaurant again, sitting at the bar. it doesn’t bother me that he’s dating. i’m happy for him. i want him to find connection, love, intimacy. i drink my second glass of wine as he tells me more details about how his dates went. i feel no jealousy. i feel no envy. i feel no pangs in my gut. i feel no sadness. i really feel nothing at all and i wonder if this is because i’m still a little depressed. but i listen intently and i say the right things at the right time, i laugh when i know i should, i smile when there’s a detail he mentions that i am supposed to be encouraging and supportive about, i frown and groan in empathy when he shares the details that convince him he won’t see these women again. he shares these details with me because of our shared history, because of how well i know him which is better than how he knows me. he knows i will understand. he knows that over the years, i have come to know his idiosyncrasies, his quirks, his pet peeves like they are my own. i am on my third glass of wine when i tell him: i’m glad i do not love you. he looks at me and i look back at him. why do you say that, he asks. because now, we can just be friends.

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he walks me to my car after dinner even though i tell him he doesn’t have to do these things anymore. he insists. as we walk to my car, our steps a little bit out of sync like always, he asks if i am dating. he pauses. i don’t want to know, actually. i tell him i’m not right now. maybe one day. but not right now. he asks me if i’m going to start dating just to spite him. why would i do that? he doesn’t have a real answer for me. he shrugs. he finally says he asks because of the dates he’s been on. i’m a little drunk and i laugh a little too loudly and my jacket slips off my shoulders and i can tell my eyeliner is a bit smeared and i know i look a little messy and a part of me wants to do something irresponsible and reckless just because i can but instead i walk slower and when we reach my car i give him a hug and i say, like i said -i don’t love you anymore.

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a coworker asks me if i’m dating yet. are you on the apps. have you been looking. any dates? i always shake my head and say no and every time i say no, she looks a little disappointed at my lack of enthusiasm and her smile falters a little bit. she doesn’t ask why but i know she’s curious and i just don’t care enough to explain it. but really, there is nothing to explain. when i think of dating, i don’t think of the vulnerability or the openness or the tenderness it takes to be loved or even simply liked- that is the easy part. i think of the endless toiling of entertaining dead-end’s and what-if’s. i think of the same questions being asked, answers being repeated, things lost in translation, one person saying too much and the other saying too little. one person feeling too much, the other person being too scared to feel anything at all. one person who gives and gives and gives and the other who shamelessly takes, greedy and voracious.

we’re in santa fe again and it isn’t as warm as i need it to be. there is a slightly cool breeze in the air that feels familiar- like the breeze back home. i feel cheated somehow- this isn’t what i had signed up for. i feel petulant about the slightly grey overcast sky, the muted heat, the stifled sun, the breeze. i wanted to ride out the rest of my detox in new mexico because it is a hideous and embarrassing process and i desperately needed there to be some level of sophistication to it. i needed it to sound and feel less humiliating and saying i was escaping to santa fe for a few days allowed my delusional self to feel less pathetic.

on our way back from santa fe the first time, we learned that oppenheimer recovered from tuberculosis on a ranch in new mexico. he healed there, we said, because new mexico has strong healing powers, it’s an energy vortex.

this summer i thought i was going to die and in some ways, parts of me did but i’m still here, trying to find love in it all.