We put the toothbrushes we kept at each others houses in a ziplock bag. I zipped it up and threw it off the High Level bridge. “It’s done. They’re gone forever,” I said, watching the stream of water carry the parcel beneath us.
“Hopefully they live better lives in the mouths of hobos,” Natasha said.
I agreed. “Any last words?”
She took out a couple pages and read. She read a lot of heart breaking things, about what those toothbrushes signify. I didn’t realize they signified such beautiful and moving moments in our lives together. But she made me. She read things about herself and myself and what she would do to make everything work and I stood there stunned. Feeling regret and love and pain and sheer cowardice.
“I love you too…” is the only thing I could say.
I spent the next few hours on my own, shopping. And when the stores closed I went home and smoked a joint. I attempted to eat brunch leftovers for supper, primarily consisting of a pile of mashed potatoes. I didn’t get too far on that pile.
I put on a movie, I can’t even recall which one because for the next two hours I could replayed the day. All I could feel was the bad stuff and it only seemed to become clear for the first time – how lonely I felt. How alone I was all weekend and all week. I smacked my face a couple times and was worried about where my head was going. I said out loud, “Uh oh. I’m going nuts. Oh no.” I managed to convince myself this was “just a weed thing.”
Cherie knocked on the door and asked if I wanted to have a drink with her and Joanne upstairs.
“I started a movie… and I’m stoned… so I probably won’t.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah…” I had been crying just prior. “I’m a little depressed.”
But then Joanne said hi and I snapped out of it, in fear of looking as pathetic as I felt. I mustered up a bit of small talk, just enough, then laid back down on the couch and thought about being lonely until it was bed time.