mike. why did i call mike? was it because we had the same birthday? did that necessitate friendship? our birthdate was one of two things we had in common; the other was that we were born in the same hospital. same hospital, same day. what does that matter? why did he always instant message me and find my new myspace pages? i was a year into college, he was a year into a career at aeropostale. couldn’t we leave it at that? (we could.) i called him. (we didn’t.) i was in the parking lot of the new ’super’ wal-mart at the ‘dorman centre.’ (the british spelling was not fooling anyone, this place was trash.)
(years before, my cousin had played football for dorman high with stephen davis on the very spot my car was parked. why was i hanging out in the wal-mart parking lot?)
mike picked up.
‘yello?’
‘hey…wanna go do…something?’
i walked around wal-mart while i waited for mike. i think i bought floss. i think i still have that same package of floss.
mike arrived. two girls ran from his car, squealing and giggling. i didn’t understand mike. i still don’t. we decided to leave his car in the wal-mart parking lot; we would return later, much later (4:30 am), with alcohol on our breath. in the in between time, we drove 40 miles west, we changed a flat tire, and i met the girl that spiraled two years of my life into nothing. pools and guitars and hot tubs and exposed brick walls. mcmansions. private school. she was from another world.
four months later, she bought me a johnny depp biography for my birthday. somehow, i knew this meant it was over. for two years, she was the first thing i remembered in the morning, the last thing i thought of at night (in a crowded dorm room, in a cave on boulevard). she was a secret. the world never knew.
without her, i’d never be the man i am today.
this isn’t a story about lamenting ‘the one who got away.’ this is a story about the ironic chain of events that led me to the love of my life. sawing and nailing. who was i before i sawed and a nailed? i was no one.