Back to the Start

Everything turned out so wrong. Nothing is the way it’s supposed to be. It’s 1:18 am and I’m sitting on my bed writing this on my laptop. I would never have been sitting here, in my bed, writing a journal entry if Chris was alive. I would have changed, quickly and quietly, washed my face and crawled into bed next to him to await his arm draping over me upon his next rollover.

I’m not supposed to be a single woman. I loved being married. I loved being married to Chris. He teased me. I teased him. We had so much fun. I don’t understand why it had to end.

I sang at the open mike tonight. It was a whole lot of fun. One of the songs that I sing regularly is Frank Wildhorn’s “When I Look at You” from The Scarlet Pimpernel. It’s a beautiful ballad (I always counter them with an upbeat). I felt such a part of the song tonight. My voice is back in shape from all of the singing I have been doing. The last line of the song is “...because I miss him so/When I look at you” When I sang that lyric, tonight. I looked up toward where I felt Chris is and I was no longer a part of that room; no longer at the open mike. I floated into the depths of my desire to be with him and it felt so beautiful. He has made me a better performer. I feel so much love for him.

I got sad tonight. On the way home from the open mike, I was going to do a little bit of grocery shopping at Star Market. i thought it was a 24-hour one but when I got there, A handicapped man wearing a Red Sox hat, driving one of those motorized “I’m handicapped” drivey-things informed me that it was closed. Instead, I went to the 24-hour CVS in the same shopping center because I had called in my prescription the other day and I thought that since I was there, I may as well pick it up. I paid with my bank card, requesting $20.00 back, but when the register opened, the pharmacist realized that there was no money in the drawer. It took some doing to get a store manager to come with some cash and the pharmacist was getting antsy. I said to him, “I’ll just take a seat until he comes. I’m not in a huge hurry.” and then I corrected myself, saying, “I’m not in a hurry at all.” It was one in the morning and I wasn’t in a hurry to get home. I used to always be in a hurry to get home, to be with Chris. I loved nothing more than the time we spent together, even when we spent it in two separate rooms; him watching the Sox and me watching some cheesy made-for-television movie. There was still always the comfort that he was home.

Singing that ballad felt immeasurably beautiful, but it messed with my brain. Feeling that level of emotion while singing was orgasmic, but it’s there because my husband isn’t. It’s the good that comes out of the bad, I guess.

I signed the lease for my new apartment last night. I’m moving to Malden, the city I grew up in. I was dead set against Malden at first because I grew up there and it felt weird, but I was also drawn there because going home gives me the sense that I’m returning to the familiar, to a safe haven, and starting over from scratch, again.

The apartment that I found is the most unbelievable apartment I have ever lived in. It’s on the 3rd floor of a huge Victorian home, it has air conditioners built into the walls, a washer and dryer right in the kitchen, a bike rack to hang my bike on, a 10x4 storage space, a built-in butcher block in the kitchen, huge closets, a private entrance, plenty of parking and peace and quiet. There are trees outside every window. There’s a loft big enough for my Chris chair, A TV and a small table. You get there by climbing up a ladder. It’s a 2-bedroom, so I will have a guest bedroom for when people visit. It has skylights and it’s extremely sunny. I am so in love with this apartment.

The new landlords seem to have taken me under their wing. I told Rita about Chris when I called to see the apartment. I told her I was moving because it was time for me to move forward. She was very, very nice. I told her that I had been supporting the two of us and that I can afford the rent, that I have been with Fidelity for 10 years and that I was looking for some peace and quiet. We bonded immediately. She is waiting until August for me and giving me the month of July for free. She wasn’t able to reach my bank, but she said, “I don’t care, though. I want you” She and her husband met me two days ago and they told me they trust me to be in their part of the house. They and their two children occupy the bottom two floors. I won’t ever go in there when they’re not home, but they trust me.

I have been very worried about the move because it’s going to be a mind-fuck, I think. Ripping myself away from the home I shared with Chris is going to be extremely difficult. I need to, though. When I look around, now, I feel anger. I remember all of the people being over during that week. I remember Chris being there, at the computer, in the kitchen, on the couch. I’m caught right in the middle of wanting to leave and wanting to hang on. It’s time though, and you can’t argue with time.

I hate that at one in the morning, after the open mike, I had nowhere to be. That’s not like me. I wanted that feeling of having to get home and crawl into bed next to Chris so I would be chipper enough tomorrow morning to get up and have coffee with him, or go food shopping with him. But it doesn’t really matter now. It doesn’t matter when I get home because there’s nobody here to care.

This move is stirring up all kinds of shit for me.