Leaving Neverland
"Boys Can Be So Dumb Sometimes."
-Tori Amos,
Operation Peter Pan
I don't care anymore.
I really don't. No hell, no way. Uh-uh.
But I jump on the phone when it rings. And it turns out to be Jackie, inviting me out of the house. Finally, because I need to escape this box, but I tell her no; that I'm not interested. She always picks up on my problems; four minutes later she's here with pictures of her daughter and a sack of Chinese food.
Wiping our mouths, we turn on the TV, to watch the fancy ball that neither of us was invited to. And I'll be damned; there's his face again, smiling like a polite angel.
Maybe I'm growing up; the remote doesn't go through the TV this time. Don't even have an urge to move my hand.
"The fifth sign," She notices, "Lethargy."
All I can do is move my lips, "I should have voted online this year."
"Who has the time?" She remarked, "We're road hogs. Good enough to wrestle on the road, but not to put on TV in expensive clothing."
She's been through this whole thing before; when Sable left the company. The worst thing about that situation was Rena's refusing to honor their relationship by treating it with respect; for closure, all Jackie got was a thank-you note, slipped under her hotel room door in the middle of the night.
She was fetal for a week afterwards.
But she's just fine now. I was graced with closure, so I should be better than she is. Which makes me wonder why I'm still swallowing egg rolls whole.
"We should be there," She remarked, her expression resolute; she does see us as we are; on the outside of the Titan pecking order, unnecessary. "Shane looks fat." She says, to make me feel better.
I laugh, because it's a silly thing to say, and, on top of everything, it's not even true. "Yeah, and Trish is pudgy." I lie. My sarcasm seems to get to her, and she seems to deflate, making me feel guilty.
Then, with a sigh, she leans against me, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder. Our one indulgence glows around our lips, like the blessed statues my mom told me she saw as a kid. Isn't it strange; my need to escape is completely gone. I'm content, for the first time in six months. And when I think of Shane, there is no pain, only the sigh of a man who has ate too much and regrets that there remains a morsel on the table.
She makes me feel like a veteran, as though maybe I've absorbed some dignity from her proud form. One of the things we share is the sensation that we've both fallen far, but at the bottom of the gutter we're dragging ourselves up. Best of all; we know forgiveness now.
Friendship is gradually becoming more important to me than sex; little things like staying here with an old friend trumps an orgasm, hopefully shared with a new stranger. I'm happier sitting here with Jackie than in the year I had spent with Shane.
The two of us, Shane and I...we just fell apart because our relationship was hopelessly shallow. Think it's hard to keep a man by your side, ladies? Try being a gay guy. You need SuperGlue to keep your man still in this world, this culture. I never used to mind it, but maybe I've changed; with Shane, I did. And so I let him go.
The person I still haven't forgiven yet looks me in the mirror every morning and wonders when I decided to become an adult. I ask myself now and again: Palumbo, you old whore, when did you leave NeverLand and decide to grow up?
But it's better to grow than stay stunted in bloom; a hothouse flower with nothing to do but sit at the peak of a perfection that has no character.
Yeah. I'm ancient.
I'm overjoyed that I'm also ancient enough to forgive. And, sitting with a dear friend among discarded cardboard-and-wire cartons, I understand that's what I've just done.