A hemorrhage of money

Friday morning, I woke up at Stevie’s after a night of royal wedding reverie and champers and cheesecake. The morning was gorgeous, sunny, cool in that way that summer days sometimes start.
I went home, finished packing my bag, and went to pick up my car.

$700 later I drove my ass to Vegas.  There is something so restorative about spending a little time away with your dearest friends.  The weekend was relaxed and downright tame for Vegas but it was perfect for me. We ate. We lounged by the pool.  We bought fancy makeup. We gambled a little. And we shook our  booties. When we lived in New York Nai, Alabama and I would sometimes meet for a drink around midnight, when Alabama would get off work, and then we would go dancing. I miss those days. I think one of  the current running themes of my life is how much things have changed. It makes me a little nostalgic but it also exciting AND scary.

Alicia and I went for a hike yesterday, and when I voiced all my apprehensions she said to me, ” you are on an adventure. You are in the middle of it. You are doing it.” After our hike I sat in her apartment and cried. I think every time I sit on that chair by her kitchen I cry.  And it wasn’t because Leo and I lived in the same building for four years.  Although I did walk down the hallway and looked at our old door. It made me feel a little woozy, almost as if I could look through the door with x-ray vision and recall what the light and space felt like in that apartment. But the strongest feeling that came up was how I felt when I moved in before I met Leo. When I turned away to head back to Alicia’s it felt like I had visited a grave. I’m not trying to sound all melodramatic but the door and the number above it felt like a tombstone. A door that I once had a key to no longer opened for me.

Alicia asked how I was feeling about Leo these days and I told her I missed him. Then I told her that when I was getting gas as I was leaving Vegas I started to cry. As I was telling her I started crying again. “How do you trust something once you’ve been burned?” I asked. “Because that’s the thing that I can’t wrap my head around. I felt so happy, so safe, so loved, and he changed. How can I ever let myself feel that way again. And I guess the answer is you just do. You meet someone and they inspire that in you. But what I realized when I was leaving Las Vegas was that I felt betrayed. I gave so much, I gave him my love, my attention, my care, my support. All the little details, the notes, the thoughtfulness that went into our life together. And he just took it, and one day he turned around and basically said that it wasn’t enough. That he wasn’t sure.”

Okay, maybe I am angry too. It’s just so many other emotions trump anger. But when I think of him not being sure my blood boils. I think the hardest part is that deep down no matter how much I miss him I don’t want to go back. I know it isn’t right for me. And I hope that there is something even more whole for me.

Later as I drove to meet my sister for dinner it hit me. In order to fall in love again you suspend your disbelief. You put your trust in hope.