I could not cry last night when I wanted to.
I wasn't sure WHY I wanted to in the first place. I was even less sure why I couldn't.
A seventeen-hour work-day, not including the hour in between jobs, and the hour spent getting ready for both of them early in the morning. After work, I came home to pick up a few things and go to Norman's, and found Peter dozing in the living room.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I needed someplace to go and I was tired, and I didn't think I could make it to my mom's house." Well, he said something to that effect. He had some sort of trouble with his current housemate, Alan, and wasn't comfortable staying there.
So I told him to make himself at home. And promptly left. I think that was probably best. I do care about Peter, and I do welcome him here if he needs someplace safe and warm to stay, but after a seventeen-hour day, I didn't think I could deal with anything except either a lot of alcohol and sleep, or a shower and orange juice at Norman's house.
So I went to Norman's house, where I showered, had orange juice, and watched an episode of Twin Peaks with him. And cuddled. In my somewhat-kind-of-vast experience with men, I've discovered that very few of them know how to really cuddle. It's kind of an artform, I think. Norman knows how to cuddle.
We're already on Episode 6... I know them all by heart, backwards and forwards.
"I can't tell you all my secrets," says Audrey Horne, naked in Agent Cooper's bed.
"Secrets are dangerous things, Audrey," replies Coop, fully clothed and about to leave the room to give her privacy.
"Do you have any?" she asks, innocently.
"No," he says firmly, decisively.
It was that part of the series that was bothering me as Norman kissed me goodnight one final time. I think it was that conversation that made me want to cry. But I couldn't cry. I was too tired to cry. So I made some neurotic comment to Norma -- I think I asked him to promise me not to hate me because of other people's words or actions against me. I told him not to get too cozy with the drama that's always following me around, because it's not who I really am... And it's not what I really want.
Only, I was tired, and I didn't really express it that well.
And I certainly didn't express my REAL thoughts very well...
My real thoughts were...
I have a lot of secrets... Secrets are dangerous things...
I imagined what Norman would think if he knew EVERYTHING about my life, and my past. I imagined him being at least a little freaked out... Wouldn't YOU be?
He says he loves me... Would he have thought longer and harder about using those words if he knew I'm a 20-year-old coming out of an emotionally abusive home, an emotionally abusive relationship with Peter, and a pointless sexual relationship with my friend Chris? Would he still say he loves me if he knew I'm 20 years old and I've been with seven people already; four within the past three months? Would he still think he loves me if he knew what I was like 6 months ago? If he could see me on the verge of a complete mental breakdown? If he could see me drunk and crying into a red towel on a bathroom floor? If he could see me partying with Ken? If he could see me seducing somebody for a one-night-stand? If he knew about the little beige journal I keep in my bookbag -- the one with the imprint of leaves on the front, and "Ten Thousand Villages" inscribed inside the front cover: the one I tell my secrets to...? If he knew what I was thinking ALL the time... If he knew I used to hang out with weird vampire gothkids so much I actually got into their little game... If he knew how much I've let other people hurt me, and how much I've hurt them back... If he knew that I've only just BEGUN to piece together the broken parts of my life? If he only knew how much baggage I carry......
Would he love me then?
Fucken, if I was in the beginning of a relationship with somebody, and got to know about baggage like that, I'd run for the damned hills.
It's not that I'm unworthy of being loved... It's not that I'm a bad person... It's just that I've not been a very stable person for the past few years of my life... And I DON'T want to subject someone to that, or the lingerings of that... Particularly not someone I think I really love... Norman knows almost nothing about my life; the only facet of our lives that we've EVER had in common was... well... coffee. It's a chance to forget all about everything I've done, everything that's happened to me, everything I don't like about myself or wish to forget... I can be anybody I want, and Norman would never notice a difference. But I would...
I have a lot of secrets.
And secrets are dangerous.
And I want to go to Norman, and tell him my complete life story, not keeping anything from him. I want him to either freak out and walk away, or not freak out and hug me. One way or the other, I know I'd feel better.
He said to me, "I will not hide... You are not a secret..." He said, "I am not ashamed of you. And I'm not going to pretend we're not seeing each other." He said, "Of course, you'll still have to deal with my friends, but all of my close friends will be really cool with you, they'll like you..." He said, "...And it might be a little hard sometimes... I mean, if we ever went to a grad-student dinner together or something, you might get a few comments, like, 'oh, Helena, how's high school going?' But my close friends will like you. And no matter what, even though there's the age difference and all, I am not ashamed of you. You are not a secret."
I think I was more touched by that than any "I love you" I've ever heard in my life.
I'm tired of secrets. And drama. And politics. And hiding things.
I said, "Thank you." And I still couldn't cry, although I was happy enough to want to. I said, "I love you, Norman."
~Helena*
"She's filled with secrets... Where we're from, the birds sing a pretty song... And there's always music in the air..." --The Man From Another Place, Twin Peaks.