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Putting a person back together isn’t easy, but if you’re smart about it you can reassemble yourself in a totally different, better way.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that it’s totally possible to love someone from a safe distance.
Jack picked B. It’s not the beach wedding I imagined as a kid or the Central Park wedding I imagined the day Jack proposed to me, but it’s easy, and I’m sure it will be beautiful.
Weird back seat to your own wedding...
It’s like I went out into the world and grew up, and he’s still right here. Right where I left him.
But there’s no reason to walk into the museum of your childhood just for old times’ sake. It’s confusing to be faced with all the things you used to think were important once you’ve grown up.
“Human Core? Like an apple?” “No, like ‘Peace Corps.’ ” “So if you write it down it looks like ‘human corpse’?” Gramps laughs. He puts down his coffee and says it again, “Human corpse.” Soon he is laughing so hard that he has to take off his glasses to wipe his eyes.
Human Corpse. I’ll never be able to unsee that. “Kind of a lifeless job you’ve got there, sweetie,” he says, still laughing. “It can be rigid,” I say. “A bunch of stiffs in suits.” He’s wiping his eyes again.
Jack and I read a lot. He picks the books, literary fiction mostly, though I have veto power. We read a lot about historical figures, fictionalized to include children and relationships they never had. There are ghosts sometimes, and chapter to chapter, I have a hard time knowing who’s talking, but by the time I’ve finished I feel like I’ve accomplished something.
Girl can't even read her own books?
Granny says, “You might want to consider the fact that on some level you don’t want to waltz.”
“If you’ve loved someone your whole life, it kind of makes sense that you’d love them forever.”
“He’s a mechanic,” says Jack. “At a Shell station. In Los Angeles.” And it’s not nice. I don’t know why, but there’s a tone to it.
Twat.
“So what are we going to do about this singer he’s seeing?” Granny asks. “Nothing. Because I’m getting married, remember?” “That’s right,” says Granny, like I’ve jogged her memory. “That Jack is awfully handsome, might get on my nerves after a while.” My mom and I laugh because that’s just so Granny. She’s suspicious of shiny things.
Granny gets it.
“I needed you then. So you don’t get to come back for me now.”
“Maybe you should go, Sam-I-am.” “Yeah,” I say. “Do you like that song?” “I do,” he says. “Now get out of here.”
“I’m not sure I can do two hippie beach visits in one summer.” I stop walking. “I thought you were the one who wanted to get married out there.” “Oh I do. I love it. But not the whole thing with your parents and that house and the stuff everywhere. The paint fumes alone took a year off my life.”
What a dick
What if I could spend my time showing kids how to make things, how to access that part of your brain that is uniquely you and then use it to create something that people can see? Creating art is about being vulnerable enough to invite people to spend time in your skin. I can’t think of a better skill to teach.
“You’re the cake that looks normal until people dig in and find out it’s spectacular. You’re the chocolate fucking cake, Sam, and you won’t even choose it.”
“You’re the most important person that’s ever been in my life, and you’re not even the most important person in your own.”
“Oh God, Sam. You’ve spent too much time this summer with your parents.” He laughs at this and goes back to his spaghetti.
I don't even care if she doesn't end up with Wyatt, just for the love of god don't marry this douchebag....
“Sometimes you have to walk away from all the things you don’t want to make room for the future. Blank canvas.”
She’s drawing, and she’s completely in her head. Her hair is a mess, like she went for a long swim this morning and just let it dry in the sun. That’s the rest of my life, right there.
