Mermaids Serve Martinis by the Sea

So missing you has become my dirty little secret. Tonight I found an old video I took in Boston at a bar. The camera pans and everyone is there, Gretchen, Molly, that girl, that guy and many more who's names I'm sure you would remember because that's what you do - remember names. I remember the sky was milky, I was cold watching the marathon and wondered why, even though you sat next to me, you didn't have much to say. We had been to NY two days before and so I suppose this was the last leg of the trip. I'm sure I didn't have much money and I'm sure you hated me for it. How sad it must have been for you to look at me. I see that now. I see it in the video. Your look looks like mine would, I'm sure, if it rested on another face - disappointed, worried, ready to eject.

Nothing changed for me. I never stopped loving you, never stopped wanting to see you, never stopped wondering why your distance grew to such great depths I thought I might drown in it.

I'm in my little carpeted bedroom now. The television is on. I'm about to sleep. I'm not one of those, I'm proud to say, that can only sleep on one side of the bed - waiting for you to take your place. I enjoy the roominess of it all, the extra pillows, the sloppy sheets no longer tugged away or tucked between us.

What a sham it all must have been for you that last year; glued on smiles, polite nods, the occasional crinkled face (foreshadowing?) when I kissed you goodbye, a sedated enthusiasm when I stopped at your office to see your face. With what ease you packed my things, moved them to the basement; carefully removing the T's from our collection of M's and T's, slipping them in with my underwear or books so on ambitious days when I change clothes or read, they fall out like unbuckled children through glass. A midmorning car crash.

I can hear your voice now. Very disapproving. I think you would prefer to write our history; no bad guys, no kryptonite, just a simple dissolve. I suppose that's what we get after all. We were fools. How quickly (well, not so quickly) we aped out domestic bliss. It didn't work for them, why would it for us? More specifically, why would it for me? Ah, the holy grail - it can be yours too I told them; all of them. Hold on, believe. What a fool. I might as well have promised the resurfacing of Atlantis - come one come all, bring your swim trunks, you won't believe the beaches and mermaids serve martinis by the sea.