I am so incredibly lonely.
Kevin was in my store the other night. "Helena, how are you?" he asks. I tell him I've been better. "I heard Peter might be moving?" he asks, subtley prying.
"I asked him to move out," I said.
"WHY?"
"Money. Among a few other things."
"What do you mean? You mean he hasn't been paying his bills? I don't mean to pry..."
"No, he hasn't."
"How long?"
"Since January."
"You're kidding me!?"
"No."
"Helena, you have been giving him a free ride since JANUARY? You are not made of money! I mean... none of us is, but... WHY?"
"I love him. It breaks my heart to do this, Kevin. It breaks my heart. I LOVE him. But we could not live together any longer."
"I'm sorry. I can tell you're having a rough time of it."
"I will be okay. I just have to move on."
"So you guys haven't even talked?"
"We had an argument and he left; we only talked on the computer after that."
"Really? Because he told me you guys weren't speaking and he couldn't be happier about it."
"Oh....." Here, I invite you to imagine the sound of glass shattering all over inside my chest.
"What was the argument about?"
"Money, and... I said some things... that... maybe... I dunno... I guess I implied a few things about the people he hangs out with..."
"What do you mean?"
"Kevin..."
"I'm sorry. I'm just curious. And I'm worried."
"I said that he's got some DAMN nice friends, who sponsor his trips to anywhere he wants to go, and give him expensive clothing and buy him dinner every night and always have a place ready for him to stay. I said it's funny that he never has to do anything for THEM..."
"You mean...?"
"Uh-huh..."
"You think he..."
"That's what I said."
"You...?"
"Kevin..."
"Sorry, I was just curious... But I think the same thing."
"I don't want to--"
"Right."
"I love him. Obviously he's happier than ever now that he's not speaking to me, but I love him and I miss him already. No matter where his money comes from and no matter where it goes, and no matter how many times he's told me all I want from him is somebody to fuck."
"He said WHAT?"
"Well..."
"Helena!"
"I LOVE him."
"I know. You deserve so much more than him. I know you don't want to hear it right now, but you'll do better. You can do so much better."
"You're right -- I don't want to hear it. I don't want to even talk about it. I love him. And Kevin, I always said I'd rather die than hurt him, but that's what it came down to: it was either I hurt him or I die, literally... And when it came down to it, even after I said I'd rather die than hurt him, I guess I changed my mind. I had to do this. I HAD to. But I still love him. And a large part of me still thinks it would have been easier to die."
Earlier in the day, Jeff's boyfriend had confided in me that they were going to visit a "connection," who had a video camera and some money. Jeff pointedly asked his boyfriend if he had his driver's license on him. Jeff's boyfriend said to me:
"We heard your fight with Peter. Almost all of it. And we know you don't have any money. We'd like to help. Jeff and I are going to do this to help you out. I mean, we also want some money for, like, other stuff, but we really do care about you, and it means a lot to him -- to both of us -- to do whatever we can for you..."
So that night when they came home, they took me out to dinner at Denny's, handed me sixty dollars, and said very little else about the experience.
Holy SHIT, that's how friendship should be. I never EVER in my whole life thought I'd have a friend willing to go to such lengths for me. I've had friends speak in my defense to any number of enemies or presumed enemies. I've had friends take me into their homes, give me food when I didn't have any, and send me cards when I needed to know somebody else was out there. Once, I even heard Peter say he loved me -- in public -- which was one of the most touching things anybody ever did for me. But I have NEVER had a friend who would, for all intents and purposes, sell his BODY and hand me half the proceeds for the phone bill Peter left me with. Jeff and his boyfriend (keep in mind I BARELY know this boyfriend... We've been acquainted less than a month...) are... gahd, they just shock me...
Six months ago, give or take, Jeff and I had a terrible fight. I made reference to his suicide attempt: "It's just too damn bad your little joyride with baby aspirin and triple sec didn't work." I have never been so ashamed of anything I've said. It still haunts me; I would give anything to bite my words back. How could he have forgiven me after that? How could he have gone on caring? How could he care so much about me that he'd do something like this for me?
Sometimes, I marvel at the friends I have and I know how much I have been blessed.
Oh yeah -- the one that said I asked Peter to move out this morning; I just thought you should know. What the fuck were they all smiling about?
"We brought you something!"
They handed me a plastic grocery bag filled to the brim with spagetti, macaroni and cheese in a box, and spaghettios.
"It was my idea," said Penny proudly.
"I'm so happy for you," said my mom. "Now you'll be able to pay your bills. Does Jeff know about Peter moving out? Well, you'll be a LOT better off this way."
I was speechless. This was not what I wanted at ALL. Asking Peter to move out was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. It wasn't a VICTORY. It wasn't a CELEBRATION. It was horrendous. When it's a toss-up between killing yourself and asking your best friend to move out, and you'd REALLY rather die but you choose to irreparably destroy your best friendship instead, it's NOT A CELEBRATION. And people who have responded to the situation with, "you're better off anyway," have gotten their remarks ignored completely. I barely want to go on, knowing that I have ruined this relationship, knowing how much I have hurt Peter -- although I suspect he's not hurt so much as inconvenienced -- and there is no victory in living day to day just hoping, wishing, begging the higher powers to drop something from heaven to make another day worthwhile. There is no victory, no celebration in that.
There is no happiness, no smiles, in the fact that I no longer have my best friend. That I have hurt the one person in the world who I'll ever call my best friend. That my pretty little dream -- OUR pretty little dream -- of living together and eating dinner together and watching TV and falling asleep on the couch together and ALL of that, is now NEVER going to happen. Something I've wanted for YEARS, something that Peter wanted, something that COULD HAVE HAPPENED can't happen. I fucked up. And he fucked up. And I ended it. Sometimes, I wish I'd just ended me instead.
I haven't taken the groceries out of their bag yet. My appetite is completely gone.
I am so lonely...
I have to go to bed. Maybe I'll watch a movie and try to fall asleep. Maybe I'll make something to eat. Maybe I'll just get through another hour, another two hours, another three hours, another day...
~Helena*
"It's just one of those days..." --Limp Bizkit, "Break Stuff."