‘Tis the end of chapter one, the chapter that began a little before exams started… I mean, there was a prolouge, alot of backstory before that, but this story didn’t really get started until then. The first words of the chapter were: “Yeah…we’re over” and the last words of this chapter were “I love you, too.” It was an eventful chapter.
This past week, the last few pages, has been one of the greatest weeks ever.
Jeremy came back for a visit (I guess he’s not “The Boy” anymore, I think he’s outgrown that title). It seems like only yesterday I was counting down the hours and minutes until his arrival, and I was overjoyed at seeing him drive up to Peabody. Then I was opening the door to my room to find a beautiful bouquet of roses on my bed – one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me. That was Tuesday.
Wednesday consisted of going to class, and spending the rest of the day hanging out. I think I’m really going to like my language classes for this semester. In Swahili class, the professor exhorted us to go to gathering knowledge “as a soldier goes to war with his gun”. It was a very powerful and moving lecture. Later, in Spanish class, the professor told us, in Spanglish and with a beautiful Cuban accent, that class is “like poetry, a metaphor.” Class is a poem, and each of the students are important verses in this poem, and being late means that the poem is broken and the poem cannot be read as it should be. Several people arrived after he made his poem metaphor. (I’m sorry to note that this verse broke the poem on Friday, but it shan’t happen again.)
Thursday was going to work, going to class, going to work, talking to my brother for his birthday, hanging out with Jeremy at He’s Not Here and drinking the equivalent of five and a half bottles of beer. Well, to be honest, I spilt quite a bit of the last half a bottle…probably the whole last bit of the half bottle, but I still have my blue cup to show for it. Then there was eating french fries at Miami Subs, stumbling home jovially talking with a numb tounge about life, love, relationships and how “I’m not as drunk as you think I *hic* am!”.
Friday was me cramping all over the place, the culmination of a about a week of feeling like an emotional wreck, and skipping classes (only two) for that day. I spent it napping with Jeremy, sweet. Friday evening was visiting my family with Jeremy. Firday night was working, hanging out with friends at Cosmic and then in Shadowwood, and finding the funniest transvestite in the world Eddie Izzard.
Saturday was working, and then going to Applebee’s with Jeremy. I had a Bahama Mama, it was okay – not all that I’ve heard it was. He bougt flowers for my roommates and I, I got my favorite – gladiolas. Later, we watched Alfred Hitchcock’s “Strangers on a Train” and compared music on my computer. Then there was bowling (I won two out of three games, even though I only won by a total of four points whereas he beat me by a total of twenty…so I guess he won), seeing “Red Eye” – which turned out to be a totally awesome Alfred Hitchcock-esque film (I wonder if stupid Ross would say “Hitchcockian” in this case), and then going to Diane, Kamala, and Rachna’s house-warming party. Later that night, we tried to watch Rebecca. I fell asleep because as much as I love Alfred Hitchcock, films with Laurence Olivier always seem to bore me out of my skull. This victorian film took about two hours to get to the good part – way too long for about fifteen minutes of mystery solving and firey endings.
Sunday, and he’s just left. We woke up, he got dressed, and then prepared to leave. There was a bit of kissing, a promise of a phone call once he arrived safely at home, and me walking him out to the car. And it all ended with him standing in front of his car, wrapping an arm around my waist, looking me deep in my eyes and whispering, “I love you, baby” and kissing me softly. “I love you, too,” I whisper back, looking at the beautiful blue sky and fluffy clouds floating behind his head, blinking back tears with all my might. By the way, looking towards the bright light of the sun doesn’t help with blinking back tears… At any rate, I do a good job of it; I didn’t cry until his car pulled out of the lot and I had my back turned to the road – AND I didn’t even cry for very long. Just a few short tears, and me consoling myself with the fact that he is coming back after all, he does love me, and he knows I love him – the thing I had been torturing myself with all summer: Does he love me, does he know that I love him? I want him to know, but I don’t want to scare him…when will be the right time to say it? Well, it’s over. The chapter has come to a conclusion. He does love me, he knows that I love him, it’s been said, and even though it probably wasn’t said at the right times, it got said.
A couple of nights ago, I looked up at the stars and saw that Orion had returned to the sky. Yes, Summer is definitely over.