Back in the Saddle

Equal (two)

Annie

It doesn't really matter much how things went. The details are boring and emotionally dull. There weren't tears, there wasn't anger, and there certainly wasn't laughter. It sort of felt like an out-of-body type of experience, but I was completely aware of what was happening. It's not that I didn't care–I most certainly do--but everything felt like nothing. It was weird, and I'm not quite sure how to describe it really.

Everything was super easy, too. I mean, here we are, ending a marriage of seven years, and a friendship of forever. A flick of the hand and our names are on a paper, and everything is decided. Over. Everything is over.

What do I do now? I've thought about it plenty. I keep the house, because he has somewhere else to go I guess. He told me he'd found a place and had been renting it for awhile, even though he didn't move out right away. He seemed sad to go, and I suppose he was. We've practically lived together since birth, what with sneaking down the fire escape at night as kids to simply shoot the breeze about things we didn't even know. And now it's over. Done. Gone.

I suppose that's how things work, though. People change. Interests die. People often fall out of love for the same reasons they fall in love: the habits they once found endearing are now dull or even annoying. I'm surprised yet glad that it didn't end sooner, really. What are the chances of staying in contact with someone after you split off in completely different directions? I tried so hard to keep in touch with Joe after high school. I failed at first, but miraculously we were brought back together. And we were in love. Happy. It was meant to be. I thought forever. But then again, I thought it was forever with Steven, too.

Man, that was so long ago, it seems. Like a whole different lifetime. And in a way, it was.

The little apartment in Commonwealth, the cheap drugs, living off money made at gigs, unable to pay rent sometimes, unable to buy food sometimes, the cockroaches... Oh, God I remember the cockroaches. Disgusting. But then things got better. They were signed, an album, another album. We moved out, got married... New lives. With money, with kids maybe, with each other.

Through whatever hardships, we were happy.

This divorce is just another hardship. We will be happy. It hurts, yes. A lot. I'm sure Joe is hurting too; no, I know he's hurting too. I don't hate him for it. I'm not happy about it, and I don't trust him all that much; we will probably not be friends quite like we used to, if at all. And that's saddening. But as time passes, I'll move on. It won't be sad anymore. It won't be happy either. It will be nothing. It will be a part of my life that has affected me greatly, but just like Commonwealth, just like Hopedale, just like the Jam Band, just like Vermont... It will become but a memory. And one day, I will be happy.

//

Charlie

"Charlie...? Hi," he  said breathlessly on the other end of the phone. Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I letting him in? Why am I doing this to him? Why am I letting him hurt me?

Well... I'm not. I'm not hurt. Well, I am, but I'm not. And that's weird. I'm confused, really.

It's been a few months since I'd told him about the baby. I hadn't kept it- not because he told me not to. But because a child did not deserve to be raised in that awful of an environment. It was unsafe! Hypodermic needles everywhere... Drugs all over the place. Bugs, alcohol, smoke, loud music. We were living week by week; food stamp to food stamp. Things were not good. No conditions were favorable for a child. And who was I to raise a kid at such a young age, all by myself, soon to leave my fiancé. I wasn't ready in any way. It wouldn't have been healthy for me or the baby. I'd be homeless. I would've been, had the other guys not made me stick around. It was bad. But I've talked about it before. It's in the past. Things are okay now.