A Little Tantrum...Just a Little One

The Brighton Cafe sits on the corner of Washington Street and Commonwealth Avenue in Brighton, right on the Brookline town line. Chris and I spent many weekend mornings eating breakfast there before venturing into the city. The restaurant was one of his favorite places to eat. Open until only 1:00PM each day, it served our breakfast and sometimes our lunch appetites well.

Only a two-minute stroll from our second floor walkup on Washington Street, we would leave the apartment unbathed, ungroomed and me without makeup just in time to chase away the caffeine headaches that threatened to overtake our skulls as morning approached afternoon.

So many memories have I of sipping coffee and looking into Chris’ face. When our eyes met, we would both smile and continue to wake up over coffee and eggs. We didn’t need to speak a word. We were completely content to sit in silence and just be with one another. Chris’ smiles were worth more to me than just about anything I have or ever had. There was a safety in his smiles. Approval filled his smiles, too., And love that encompassed every cell in my body and wrapped me in warmth like none I had ever felt in my life. I loved him.

Carol’s birthday was today. We celebrated with two other friends in the north end of Boston. Four ladies out on the town sipping wine and enjoying good Italian food and each others’ company.

We drank white wine, not my favorite. I much prefer red. I decided to go with white because Carol preferred it and after all, it was her birthday. It was still very good.

Wine always makes me feel sexy. It always has. Chris noticed it early on. He used to laugh about the advances I made toward him after a glass of wine. It only took one glass; hell, it only took half a glass to make me feel all fuzzy and warm.

Tonight, I entertained the idea of flirting with another man. I didn’t do it; I just entertained the idea. There was no specific man in my mind, just a nameless, faceless figment. As usual, what went on in my mind was tremendous fun. Tremendous fun always happens when I retreat into my own head. Chris knew that about me, too.

It’s amazing to me that somebody once knew all about me and he wasn’t confused. Irritated at times, of course, but never confused. he understood who I was and accepted me and loved me. Where did he go?

I went to New York City this past weekend on my first trip without Chris since he died. Every other trip I took since I knew him was with him. This was a big deal. I really enjoyed New York. It was lively, overbearing in an exciting way, gritty and bustling. The upper west side was absolutely lovely. The west village was just as enchanting. We saw two shows: The Pillowman and Sweet Charity. Chris would have loved The Pillowman. It was his kind of show. He much preferred plays to musicals but he always came to my musicals with me.

The trip was a challenging one. I missed what we could have done there. How can you miss something you didn’t do? I missed that it wasn’t him and me in the west village. I missed that he didn’t sit next to me during the play. I missed his body next to mine in the hotel bed. I had the next best thing; I had Carol next to me in bed.

I did it, though. I took my first trip without him. I’m still feeling the after tremors, but it’s okay. It’s the start of the beginning of the rest of my life.

I’m moving on Saturday. This summer is just full of firsts. This is going to be so good for me. I need to claim my space. I need to look around and see things that don’t remind me of a life that no longer exists for me. I only hope the landlords understand when my tears cause water damage to their ceilings down below. That’s what my security deposit is for, I guess.

I’m not going to look for another man. I don’t want to. I’m not putting myself through that. If I’m going to meet and fall in love with another man, it’s going to have to happen by accident. That’s all there is to it. It happened once, it can happen again. Until then, I’m going to improve myself and do all of the things that fill me up until I’m such a good catch that I’ll attract another somebody who will love me for exactly who I am. It has to happen naturally, though.

Carol and Robby are having brunch on Sunday to continue Carol’s birthday celebration. I had invited myself, but that’s before I knew that they were going to The Fireplace, which sits on the corner of Washington Street and Commonwealth Avenue. I don’t feel ready to sit there with the Brighton Cafe in plain sight, reminding me, taunting me, tricking me into thinking that I can see the two of us dining in there from my seat in the Fireplace. I can’t do it.

I want it to be true too badly to put myself through it.

P.S. Besides the grief, I had a wonderful day today. Seriously.

Shneed