*the following is a work of fiction. i wrote it sometime last winter (?). i was mourning the end of two relationships and reading a lot of comic books.
there’s another universe where we exist. where we met in paris, two americans lost in a city bigger than our dreams. we were staring at the same painting in the louvre, and i was hungry. you got the courage to say hello when my stomach growled. it didn’t matter that you were younger than i was, or my skin was darker than yours. our mutual interest in special effects make up and dancing was enough. i flew home before you, and my home was one river, two counties, three states, and four hours by car away from yours. but i was in between jobs, so coming to see you when you finally came home wasn’t a problem. we fell in love. we were a romantic comedy. we wrote letters. we took road trips. we found new, better jobs nearer to one another. you wrote for a music magazine and i ended up becoming an interior designer. we lived in a shitty apartment where everything was always falling apart and fixer-upper was an understatement. we got a golden retriever. we sent out engagement announcements with photos of our golden retriever balancing the rings on his nose. we went back to paris on our honeymoon. in this universe, things worked out between us.
there’s another universe where we exist. where our first date was a kanye west concert. both is us were huge kanye fans, but we tried to act unaffected and like we were too cool for the whole thing. we were really hip, but our hipness couldn't keep our bodies from swaying in unison. you reached for my hand during the vamp of flashing lights and we held hands and kissed all throughout runaway. three months later you move into my bungalow in the canyon. we spent hot mornings having sex and cool afternoons taking bike rides through twisty roads to get to out of the way cafes for dinner. i got angry when the santa ana winds whipped through our back yard and you soothed my nerves with essential oils and cucumber tea. we started our own band in this universe. we opened for phantogram. i wrote the lyrics and you sang. we were fairly successful. we never got married. we did have a daughter named amnesty. she chased your cat, errol, through the yard daily. in this universe, things worked between us.
there's another universe where we exist. where you were the frontman of world famous band, and i was a penniless would be music video director. you saw one of my youtube clips and suddenly i was being flown to new york city to take care of your next video. you didn't know i'd be so pretty. it smells like a rare hamburger outside, but we are stuck inside a warehouse and i’m teaching you dance moves and you wonder why i don’t have a choreographer; i mumble back that i’m new at this and you chose me. our animosity towards one another is not real animosity, it is unhealthy flirting. as we’re packing up to leave that day, and i remind everyone that call time is 6am the next morning, you ask me on a date. my face twists in confusion. no, i will not go to dinner with you. your face twists up in confusion. no woman has ever said no to you after your first single went platinum. i remind you that i am your boss, or maybe you’re my boss, for the next two days, and besides it being unethical i am not the kind of girl that dates rock stars. you shake your head and walk away. you ask the next day and the day after that, and the night we wrap. i tell you no every single time. i am on a plane back to san francisco that has wifi checking my e-mail. you thank me for a great shoot, say you can’t wait to see the finished product, and ask me out again. i relent this time. we get married on a yacht. in this universe, things worked between us.
there’s another universe where we exist. where we did not break up a week before our two year anniversary. we went disneyworld like we had planned. i took photos of tourists for my street style blog, we played games on your phone during long line waits. my mother asked me if we had any plans to be married before we left. i laughed at her and told her we liked things the way they were, no titles, no commitments, just each other. i was actually good with that, by the time the trip rolled around. when we came home, you were finally moved out of IT for the website you worked for and became a paid contributor. i was happy one of us was making real money, because it looked like my next band might actually work and i could keep putting off going back to school. it didn’t, and i did go back to school. culinary school. you laughed at the idea, but you liked how i took things one day at a time. i was a new person; someone who wasn’t anxious about the endless sea of tomorrows. eventually i opened my own bakery. in this universe, things worked between us.
there’s another universe where we exist. where we did break up a week before our two year anniversary, just like in this universe. but, in that universe it was a clean break. we let each other go with dignity, and then we met up again on a flight to seattle. you were going to visit your parents. i was going just to go, i had never been. i thought i saw you when i checked in with TSA, but i convinced myself it wasn’t you. like i didn’t know your body and your walk better than i had known my own at one point. i chanted and prayed until it was time for me to board my flight, i didn’t know if i was asking the universe to make that tall blond man you, or please keep it from being you. a snot nosed woman who constantly looked like she was smelling something unpleasant sat next to me. i looked up into the shadow you cast as you begged her to trade seats with you, because i was your ex girlfriend and you missed me and wanted to talk to me. i froze you out like a snow queen for the next three minutes. i finally melted and we caught up on the last two years on our flight. we agreed to meet at your favorite bar, you asked if you could take me to the space needle. i liked seattle. i liked you again. you tried to kiss me. i said second chance romances never work. you sang me a maroon 5 song. we ended up moving to seattle, and buying a big house with the advance with your first novel. i left my job in rights and licensing at BMI, i unintentionally started a new wave of riotgrrrrl rock by producing music in seattle. in this universe, things worked between us.
there’s another universe where we exist. where i am a beautiful actress, but am entirely broke. i take a horrible film shooting in a remote jungle, because it is the only audition i can land. we arrive on the island that is supposedly haunted. you are a thirty foot tall bonobo. the director scraps his film and decides to bring you back to los angeles, and charge people admission to see you. i am the only person who speaks against him, who tells him it is wrong. he captures you anyway. i spend time in your cage on the voyage home. you’re an animal, but you’re the only place that has ever felt like home. when we get back to los angeles, i refuse to participate in his stage show. you escape the first night and rampage the city looking for me. you find me and clutch me in your fist as you scale the capital records building. military helicopters shoot as us until you fall. you die. i die of a broken heart. somehow it still feels like in this universe, things worked between us.
there’s another universe where we exist. where we met online, on our favorite blogging website. we both have passions for writing and love the same bands. we exchange long e-mails and post secret in jokes on our blogs. we text each other daily. the two hour time difference doesn't bother us. we decide to meet. austin, texas has an up and coming music scene that we are both interested in and we have heard good things about the local food. our flights land at different times, so we agree to meet for dinner at 24 on lamar where we split chicken, waffles, and sweet potato hash. you cancel your hotel reservation and we are back in my room at the cute little boutique hotel i looked up online fucking each other's brains out. in this universe, things worked between us.
there’s another universe where we exist. where you crash your car into mine, driving drunk. it is the first time you’ve ever driven drunk. you get arrested. you contact me after your insurance has written me a check for my totaled car. you apologize over the phone, your voice sounds so sad and lonely, not only do i forgive you, but i ask you if you want to meet for coffee. you make me sides ache with laughter, even though you're describing your chronic depression and descent into alcoholism. i have never told anyone besides my therapist about my years long affair with bulimia, but i confess to you. i tell you if i can conquer my addiction, you can battle yours. i act as an unofficial sponsor. it's good things are unofficial because you can't kiss your sponsee, which i do on our visit to the grand canyon. you get clean. i relapse. we work through it. we move to norcal. we adopt a vietnamese baby. in this universe, things worked out between us.
there’s another universe where we exist. where we never meet. you never went to csulb, you stayed with your parents in seattle, and worked at a small book store. i started many failed blogs. i married a woman with red hair, and ended up with in the hospital from complications from my anorexia. you never got married. you had a baby with a woman you met at a show and didn't want to speak to again. we were both consumed by sadness and couldn't figure out why. soulmate doesn't mean you stay together forever. our souls needed to be touched by on another; to learn things, to figure the world out, to be loved, to become a more complete soul. our souls needed each other. without it we were lost. this universe was the saddest of all.
there is this universe where we exist. where we broke up the week before our two year anniversary, because you thought we were better as friends. i said i never wanted to see you again. i still called you twice a week crying and cursing. after everything; i missed you and i loved you. in this universe, where i was insecure and starved myself for your approval. in this universe where you drank and totaled my car. i wanted to go back to paris with you, i wanted to believe we could conquer our demons and have a large family of interracial children. your mother blamed our age difference. my mother called you a dog for refusing to marry me. sometimes at night i think we were just too different. we are trying to be friends. sometimes it works better than others. i called you from the space needle, when i finally went to seattle. you told me the city suited my color. we've talked about getting the band back together, but our failed trip to the grand canyon as "just friends" told us that wasn't such a good idea. in this universe where i've quit four different careers as a blogger, a pastry chef, a director, and a photographer, because the future frightens me, and this fear led me to worry about our future, beg you to marry me, punish you when you said you weren't ready. in this universe where you found success as an architect, after building a beautiful new musical venue in austin, inspired by our first trip there. you called me last night; king kong was on tv and you were thinking about our first date. we talked for a little while, and i didn't cry after we hung up. in this universe, where things are unknown between us.