Happy New Year

There’s so much I wanted to say – about Marnie, life here … and I was going to - it’s all half written. I really wanted one last story this year, but I don’t think I can anymore. It’s too late. Perhaps next year.

I sent you the photograph – did you look – or don’t you even open my emails anymore? I’d forgotten all about it until the other day – it’s from the summer – remember now? We’re on the stairs in your apartment and we have our arms wrapped around each other, and it’s partly for support - the physical kind – remember how we nearly fell down them just before it was taken?

We ran out of black in Ventura Beach - at that divey motel. It was my idea – slumming it for variety - and you weren’t that keen. “How bad can it get?” I said. “Look – people on Tripadvisor say it’s okay.” You made your doom face, and then you pointed at the men in vests drinking beer from tins on the upper walkway. You said it was the car you were worried about, and I didn’t understand because it wasn’t even ours in the first place, but when I told you that, you said it was the principle. Then you shook your head. So fucking cautious. You always were. I know you think the opposite of me – that I’m too impulsive, impatient. Maybe we’ll cancel each other out in the future. Or perhaps we’ll just lead a semi-exciting life with breaks for cautiousness. In the future.

Anyway that was where we ran out of black - the dodgy motel – where nothing bad happened by the way – I hope you remember that - and so all we had by the time we got to Vegas was your meth pipe and that didn’t work very well – so when we got back home to Tucson it was the first thing we did – hunt out the little bit you’d stashed away. Before we even took the bags upstairs.

The other reason we’re hanging on to each other is because I’m just about to go to the airport and I don’t want to. I don’t think you wanted me to either. We don’t look too bad, considering. All golden brown from the sun and the beach. You’d never know to look at us .

Are you still alive? Are you even still alive? That’s the thing you see – (or maybe you don’t) - I don’t even know if you’re still alive. Nothing – there’s been nothing since – over two weeks now, when you said you were having a second try – the first one didn’t work, and the second try wasn’t going too well; “…it’s all been way harder than I ever thought it would be”… Then you told me not to worry because it wasn’t helping.

There’s nothing I can do – not one single thing. I know worrying doesn’t help – I’m not stupid. It's just ... we came so close – we were almost there. And I’m not giving up gracefully. If I have anything to do with it – if there’s anything I can do - I won’t let you either. I’m not giving up on you. Just be somewhere. Stay alive, and then come back. Happy New Year.