To the Moon
One moment I was hanging from Perry’s shoulders, my arms around his neck, a movie in slow motion. The next moment was a series of film frames in fast-forward: My arms rubbed his arms as we pulled apart. Our hands found each other and connected. They loosened and the tips of my fingers grazed his palm, slid over his knuckles. Our fingertips dallied before our arms fell to our sides. Then, the void I was dreading. Roll credits.
One hour ago, we were standing in a smoky bar. It was the last day of finals, and I had just come from a five-hour work shift. We tried and failed to have a conversation because the band was much too loud for the size of the room. I was exhausted, and a bar was the last place I wanted to be. But for Perry’s last night in town, I would have gone to the moon. It felt like I'd been rocketed there already, anyway.
One night ago, we were sharing a twin bed, innocently, his head on the pillow and mine on his shoulder. I was asking him, no, begging him not to go. I was full of ideas to keep him in town for just one more semester. Keep working, get an internship, take another class. Postpone the inevitable. But it was his life moving forward, unstoppable, not mine. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
One week ago, he helped me in through his window late at night after his roommate refused to let me through the door. After I climbed inside, he dealt the first hand. We stayed up until moonset playing cards, never lacking conversation, as always. The Doors were on repeat and I swear that CD looped at least five times before we realized that we both had to go to work in an hour.
One month ago, I was at the time clock when Perry invited me to the party his roommates were throwing that night. Before then, I’d never spent any time with him outside of work. Last minute, I decided to go. We abandoned the party immediately and went into his room to listen to music, playing cards in between sentences. We fell asleep on his bed, friends only, but already anticipating the next time we would see each other.
One minute ago, I was dangling in Perry’s embrace. Now I was alone, vulnerable, as I stood on the curb, willing the movie to switch to rewind. I shut my eyes, wondering how it happened. How we went from strangers to best friends in less than a semester. And how it was ending as quickly as it began. I squeezed my eyes ever tighter, refusing emotion. Turn around, come back! I pleaded silently. One more minute. One more night. One more card game. One more conversation. Let’s rocket to the moon.
One second ago, I opened my eyes, and Perry was out of sight.
One hour ago, we were standing in a smoky bar. It was the last day of finals, and I had just come from a five-hour work shift. We tried and failed to have a conversation because the band was much too loud for the size of the room. I was exhausted, and a bar was the last place I wanted to be. But for Perry’s last night in town, I would have gone to the moon. It felt like I'd been rocketed there already, anyway.
One night ago, we were sharing a twin bed, innocently, his head on the pillow and mine on his shoulder. I was asking him, no, begging him not to go. I was full of ideas to keep him in town for just one more semester. Keep working, get an internship, take another class. Postpone the inevitable. But it was his life moving forward, unstoppable, not mine. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
One week ago, he helped me in through his window late at night after his roommate refused to let me through the door. After I climbed inside, he dealt the first hand. We stayed up until moonset playing cards, never lacking conversation, as always. The Doors were on repeat and I swear that CD looped at least five times before we realized that we both had to go to work in an hour.
One month ago, I was at the time clock when Perry invited me to the party his roommates were throwing that night. Before then, I’d never spent any time with him outside of work. Last minute, I decided to go. We abandoned the party immediately and went into his room to listen to music, playing cards in between sentences. We fell asleep on his bed, friends only, but already anticipating the next time we would see each other.
One minute ago, I was dangling in Perry’s embrace. Now I was alone, vulnerable, as I stood on the curb, willing the movie to switch to rewind. I shut my eyes, wondering how it happened. How we went from strangers to best friends in less than a semester. And how it was ending as quickly as it began. I squeezed my eyes ever tighter, refusing emotion. Turn around, come back! I pleaded silently. One more minute. One more night. One more card game. One more conversation. Let’s rocket to the moon.
One second ago, I opened my eyes, and Perry was out of sight.
