It’s funny how things happen. How messages come to you at decisive points in time.
I was working on one of my design projects one afternoon and my mobile rang. It was an old friend in New York. I have known X for close to 25 years. He was the first friend I made in New York. I was fresh off the boat from out west in the mid 80‘s and we worked together at a well known arts organization in Chelsea. We were casually friendly in the office, but one Sunday afternoon I ended up in the neighborhood gay bar on 3rd avenue and 38th. I was there with someone. I don’t remember who or if it was a date or just hanging out. I didn’t see X right away. Eventually I did, though, and walked up to him where he stood at the bar. I got the feeling he had seen me first because he had that look in his eye that said he was unsure about whether or not he wanted me to see him, but I paid little attention to that. We chatted for a few minutes and I went back to my friend. From then on we were bound since we knew something about the other that people may have only guessed about.
We had some kind of psychic connection. Countless times I would dial his number only to find it busy because he was dialing mine. We would comfortably discuss boyfriends, co-workers, food, politics, men, whatever. Usually over many cocktails and many laughs. Sharing an astrological sign, we were in sync and understood one another’s personality and thought patterns. I always knew X was older than me but I didn’t know for a long time. He didn’t tell anyone, didn’t want anyone to know. At one point he did tell me though. I was living in California at the time and X came to visit. It was my 40th birthday and he wanted to come to my party. It was then that he told me his age which was about 25 years older than me. I was shocked, of course, and apparently it was all over my face.
Seeing his name on my caller ID as my mobile rang didn’t surprise me. I had been thinking about X for a couple days and had planned on calling him. We talked about the usual topics. How our mothers were, what we’ve been up to. Since X decided to move into his parents home his life has come to somewhat of a halt. A sort of self imposed solitary confinement while watching over his aging mother and (now deceased) father. After the move to Queens we didn’t see each other as often. I was one of those guilty Manhattanites who had problems leaving the island. But X was still a constant in my life. At one point during the call, X said, I feel evil. What do you mean, I said. Depressed, frustrated, he said. I heard the distress and isolation from 3000 miles. Getting old’s a bitch, X said, it’s terrible. Do what you want with your life now, don’t wait, he said, don’t wait ‘til it’s too late like I did. Suddenly, he had to hang up. His mother was expecting him but I got the idea that he was embarrassed for revealing too much of himself. X hurried off the line as we said our goodbyes as if he were running to catch a train.
There was no air in the silence that followed. Just the heaviness of desperation and the edginess of urgency. I sat with myself for a few minutes as 25 years of friendship and memory passed before my eyes. I knew that X’s message easily related to my own circumstances of life and love, and he was trying to tell me something. I worried for us both. Unmoving, I stared at the sunny day outside the window and the bright green of newly budding trees waved at me from across the street. I felt anxious to get on with life.
