I am having a hard time. I am wearing his maroon sweatshirt. I can’t believe I am wearing it. He never lets me borrow anything. All I wanted was to borrow something.
He will probably be angry when he realizes he left this sweatshirt here. He wears it a few times a week. When he realizes he left it here he will say, “Fuck.” I suppose he will ask me to mail it to him. Maybe I will bring it with me when I move across coasts.
I am going through something right now and I can’t find anything to hold on to. I feel grief and doubt. I have diarrhea and there is no toilet paper in the house. I called in sick to the newspaper I work at so I could stay home and write on my typewriter but my typewriter does not work.
I hate myself lately for putting meaning into things like sweatshirts. It’s like a tic, I can’t stop. I wear Anna’s clothes all the time because it makes me feel safe. I have a friend. She is my size. She loves me and is letting me wear her sweatshirt. I have a lover. He is angry he left his sweatshirt at my house because he thinks I am careless. He knows I am careless and I hate him for that. I love him for that.
Yesterday I was despondent. I woke up at 8 a.m in Anna’s bed on a flowered pillowcase. We don’t sleep in anymore. I was afraid of the day. She saved me by saying, “Let’s get out of here, let’s go to North Hampton.” She fed me tea and an English Muffin with carrots and onions and cream cheese and tomatoes and turkey.
We drove. I was quiet and sad and couldn’t articulate my gratitude to her. I am so sad lately. I miss the people I love while they are right next to me.
We listened to CD after CD and we got coffees with cream and sugar from McDonalds.
I do not like when he brings up the girl he is sleeping with. I do not like that I am having this freak out and scaring myself. I do not like feeling so morbid. I do not like my writing lately.
He told me I was not stable. He told me to “Have a great time out there.”
Could he have put it anymore impersonally?
"What if I miss you?"
"Then you'll have to give me a call."
But when I said "What if I miss you," I actually meant, "What if I die."
But I knew it was the cocaine hangover talking so I swallowed the question.
We did not say “I love you."
Out the window a cat that is not mine is taking a shit in the yard. I am wearing his sweatshirt with no bra or t-shirt underneath to get him as close to me as I can.
I want him to tell me he loves me and that I will be okay. I want him to have confidence in me. I don’t know if I can do it if he doesn’t. I want to pack. I want to get on the plane. I want to know how he wants to get his god damn sweatshirt back. But he is not answering his phone.
Laura Mandarin lives in Cummington, MA. She is proud this week because she found out that she is not pregnant.