3:09 p.m. - March 07, 2003
I told my brother he is welcome to return to Northern California and can stay as long as he likes or needs though I expect him to be responsible. A minor victory of family over my thirst for distance. This will not be easy and I worry already about those nights when I am afraid to sleep and take out the paint and dropcloths and overnight the living room changes color, or the hallway, or a bedroom. I worry about being caught doing my silly things, having to defend uncovered windows and no closet doors and the other things nobody understands, of being vulnerable within my own home.
I am the older sibling the younger brother didnít look up to, the one neither cool nor not cool, simply in-between and disinteresting. My father would tell him Donít be like Jason and he took it to heart though my father is incensed we are both poets, published ones at that. What my brother remembers that we have talked about are the fights between my father and myself, the Thanksgiving I ruined, how I would disappear and be sullen when visible, the times I ran away, the week he spent with me in the dorm when I was a freshman in college, and his frustration at being compared to me in academics. And the most I can open up to him is about the jealousy of his being the one whose T-ball, little league, and baseball games were always more important than my soccer competitions. When we talked about that Jeff looked at me and said Maybe you should have tried harder and perhaps that is true.
Unpleasant but this is a victory, albeit small.
Last night I spoke with Spec for a little while; he asked me to come up to Seattle during my Spring break and while he canít take time off work, we could go for walks on the beach and ferry over to Vashon and I declined and he sighed. And how badly I want that, how much I crave this, but it is not going to happen. He knows why; he said You can trust me again and I replied, No, I canít and we were quiet for a minute before saying goodbye. I push him away when all I want to do is rush up and hold him, allow him to hold me and we can walk down the cherry lane for the sequel and I donít know which part of me to follow, I donít know whether the Donít trust or the Trust instinct is truly in my best interest. I must be doing something wrong because it hurts afterwards.
I canít imagine being open with another man the way I was with Spec and I canít imagine being with a woman and not wanting that openness I had with a man.
I had almost won, had nearly achieved that balance of neither needing nor wanting anybody, of being safe and secure and what I have now is disappointment.
Melodrama is an enemy but it hurts to be alone.