"I'm coming over after work, ok? You just need someone to hold you for a good ten minutes," he laughs a small laugh.
"Ok, but you watch your hands," half crying half laughing.
I open my door at 5:30 and he's standing there, so tall, so handsome, gentle smile. He steps in, the door closes, and he wraps his arms around me. J is so tall, he's lost more weight. I feel like I could wrap my arms around him twice. He puts his chin on the top of my head and I feel him breathing on my hair. His hands press into my back as he runs one up to my neck and the other down to my waist.
"Don't even think about it," I laugh.
"I'm not. Well, I'm thinking about it."
He held me while I cried and talked about how scared I was. It seemed like forever, but he never stopped holding me until I was so snotty he had to let go. Pretty picture, I'm sure. He held my face in his hands and said, "You hungry?"
Sniffling and wiping my puffy eyes, "When am I NOT hungry?"
"Boston Market?"
"You drive."
"Deal." He kisses my face and we leave.
If you've never had a friend that offers you Boston Market when you are having a major meltdown, you should get one right away. But that was J's character. He was the guy who could say the driest joke to you and you'd laugh while he stood there straight as an arrow as if to say, "What? It's a legitimate question. Have you ever..." and the craziest shit would come out. I once had powdered water but didn't know what to add to it...Morning text messages, "Hey Beautiful, have a good day," would light up my phone...and I have a feeling many other girls' phones as well. But it didn't matter. He made you feel like it was for you. Our timing always seemed off, though. I was dating someone, he would be single. He'd be dating someone, I'd be single. And always in the back of my mind was my fear of his disease. J was diabetic. The kind that made him check his insulin constantly. He'd tire easily. Always needed a bathroom close by. He'd never take his shoes off except to go to bed, and even then, he never took off his socks. I don't think I ever saw his feet. I don't know if he even had feet. He had to have the corners of his eyes sewn because the diabetes affected his eyes and he gave himself injections at every meal. But even through all that, he still was positive and happy...and dirty, lol. We would all go sing in Waukegan at a bar where our friend did the karaoke. J could sing and dance. The kind where you'd look at the women sitting at the tables and they'd just be staring because he was so adorable and sexy. Every year, God, I feel like this is so disjointed as I'm telling you all of this, but the memories of this time in my life are coming back in weird order. Ok, so every year J would celebrate his birthday with two other men that were dear friends. One of whom I've written an entry on my blog about. (J's roomate) More disjointedness...J and I never ended up in a relationship other than what we were for two reasons. 1. The timing was always off with us and 2. I had a horrible fear of loving him and losing him if the diabetes ever got that bad. You have no idea how much of a bitch I feel for even letting that out. I've only said that out loud to two people. (exhale) Ok, the birthday party celebrations...so everybody knew that I taught pole and lap dance as my job. For J's birthday, my gf, Kir, sang his favorite song, "Still Loving You," by Scorpions, and I pulled his chair out in the middle of the dance floor and made his face turn 5 shades of red. It was epic, lol. There are still pictures that pop up from time to time that people will mention. Wow, his girlfriend hated me that night...
My apartment was the meetup place for all of us. I'd have wine and cheese parties and we'd all sit around laughing and playing games. I had my pole in the living room and we'd all fuck around on it. I don't know how I would've gotten through that period in my life if it wasn't for my friends. Kir often reminds me of the time she was in my bedroom on the phone with her man and I come stumbling in trying to find a pair of my 6-inch shoes so I could show off the latest ass-over-my-head move. Everyone would sleep over. J would come over and we'd watch movies on the air mattress in my living room. I find it hilarious that Boston Market was our place. I'd meet him up by Great America to go to the one there. I'd sit in his car while he'd show me the DVD player in the dash, or the speaker-thingys that were the size of a couch in the trunk. All the while, he never acted like anything bothered him. He was my rock.
Segues have never been my thing, so stay with me for a second. A few years back there was a, "thing," going around the Sister Goddess community that was called Hosting An Angel or something like that. It was a very calming and peaceful gesture with candle lighting and invoking positivity into the space. It lasts for a few days and then you pass it on to others so they can bring it into their homes. I bring it up because it was my turn to host while what I'm about to tell you was happening.
J and I would text and hang out. I would bring him soup and crackers when he was sick. He would come and hug me with his infamous hugs when I would ask. Time passed. One day I got a call from W, his roommate that I dated and wrote about.
"Robyn, I have to tell you something. J is in the hospital. He's in a coma. He's going to be ok, but it's bad."
"What? Where? What happened."
W tells me. I may need to stop for a bit.
"His alarm was going off and he wouldn't get up. I figured I'd let him sleep. My girlfriend needed to get her car out so I took his keys and moved the car. He seemed really tired, so I let him sleep for about 45 more minutes. When I went back into his room to wake him up, he was face down on the floor. I turned him over and he was blue. We called 911 and I did CPR on him until the paramedics took over."
I'm holding the phone. I hear the words. I hear W's cadence of when he talks and it's very distinct.
"Ok, but he's ok? He's going to wake up?"
"He's going to be ok. They were able to bring him back. He's at [hospital]."
I reach out to our circle of friends and tell them I'll go to the hospital as our, "representative," because there's so many of us and they're not going to want all of us at the hospital. As it turns out, I am very good under these types of situations. I'm not a crier. I don't flip out. I watch. I ask.
I make my way to the hospital. I tell the desk who I am there to see and they tell me I have to wait because the nurses were cleaning him up. Cleaning him up? Ok. I'll wait. I waited 45 minutes to where they'll finally let me in. His family, I'd been told, had gone to the cafeteria. I walk in to see J connected to tubes on top of tubes, beeping machines, it was shocking.
"Yeah, sorry it took so long, but we had to change the entire bed," the male nurse says.
I know exactly what happened. W lied to me. W had no idea I have any type of medical background. What W failed to mention was that J was brain dead. J's body had completely evacuated just as I walked on his floor and that's what they were cleaning up. His body was there, but he was gone. J's dad and girlfriend came back into the room and I am dumbfounded. I'm so mad because I went there thinking he was going to be ok. I tell the family I was there on behalf of all of us. I grab his hand. I stroke his hair. I tell him stories in his ear about how I'm going to show everyone all the inappropriate pictures he's ever sent me. "Open your eyes or I'm going to tell everyone the tuna can story." But I know he's not going to open his eyes. I look at him laying in the bed. The sheets are clean and smell like hospital. His goatee is too long and I tell him I don't like it. I whisper, "I totally thought this was your dad's girlfriend and was about to tell him well done, Sir, getting this young thing." I kiss his hand and in my mind I tell him goodbye, I love you. The family tells me they're going to turn the machines off, but that J's mother is not accepting that her boy is gone yet so they are waiting. I get back in my car and the first thing I do is call W.
"What the fuck, W! How could you say he's going to be ok? He's not! He's gone!" I'm screaming at him.
"Robyn, I didn't know how to tell you. I knew he was gone when they took him in the ambulance. I'm sorry. I just couldn't take that hope away from you." I walk in the door, look at the white candles and flowers I have for the angel exercise, and I drop to my knees and wail. In my head all I can ask is, "Where is he? Where is his soul if his body is still here breathing?" I stayed there for a long time. I sat with my back against the door and sobbed, my entire body heaving.
In the movies, they turn off the machines, the beeping slows down on the machine...
This is where I had to stop for a minute. I'm literally screaming at my computer because I've never written about this. My throat feels like I have a tennis ball in it. FUCK! Gimme a second.
...the beeping slows down on the machine until there is a steady tone. They turn of the noise and it's done. Not so in real life. They turn off the machines and it becomes a waiting game. The organs start to shut down and it could be days before it's finally over. My friends and I keep in constant contact with each other so if there's any news, we all know immediately. It's been a few days and I am on my way into the city to teach at S-Factor. I hit the 90/94 split when the text message comes from my friend, AJ.
"Jason passed away two hours ago." He goes on to say something about services being planned and I am in the car silently, mindlessly driving. I am looking for an exit to turn around so I can just go home when a call comes in. I never answer if it's a number I don't know, but I answered this one. It's one of my Sisters who is visiting from CA. She was having major medical issues and waiting for some news that would change her life forever. "When I found out you were teaching the class, I knew the Universe was giving me a sign." I can't remember if that was exactly it, but along those lines. I answered back in tears, "V, I just learned my friend has passed and you are saving my life just as much as I am yours. I'll see you in a few minutes." I walk into my studio and Jo looks at me and says, "What's wrong?" I burst into tears. She takes me by the hands and leads me into a back area where we sit on the floor and I tell her what's happened. Leave it to my Jo, she grabs a glass of champagne from the event that we were having in an hour, and asks me if I want a Valium. It's the only thing that made me laugh. Can you imagine me teaching a class on booze and Valium? I taught my classes like a village idiot anyway. I go into class and tell all my students what happened and that I would try to hold it together as best as I could. I don't think there was a dry eye in class that day.
I could go into what J's funeral was like. All the people that came. The crying/laughing while everyone told hilarious stories about what a perv he was. How he loved Halloween and could do the sickest makeup. We all went and ate afterwards and shared our own stories that wouldn't have been proper to do in front of his parents, lol. I'll tell you one. "Robyn, my dick is at least six inches...around...I mean, it's like a tuna can. It's only 21/2 inches long, but...(and then he'd hold his hands up making a circle)..." I'd get random pictures of tuna cans while he'd be shopping in a store. Or I'd send him a pic and say, "Thinking of you."
J's birthday is coming up in about two weeks. He'd have been 42, I think. He's been gone 4ish years and I couldn't write a word about him until today. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with this entry yet. It's not funny, nor witty. There's no real point to it except to tell you about an opportunity I missed on loving a man who had so much love to give. Someone who could hold you and make you feel like nothing could harm you as long as his hands were there. And that almost anything feels better after some chicken and cornbread. If I do publish this and you've made it this far, thank you. Thank you for holding this space for me to tell you about how I saw him, my beautiful friend. How I loved him. How he loved me.
Song picks:
What If I Said by Anita Cochran and Steve Wariner
Lightening Crashes by Live
Poison by Bell Biv DeVoe
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