Diary Friday

In the fall of 1999 I had a brief relationship with a guy who I will call “The Deli Guy”. He worked at the deli counter at A&P, and my friends kept saying, “So … how’s Deli Guy?” and it just stuck. The story of the relationship is long and absolutely insane. But that’s for another day. At the time of this entry, I didn’t really know him at all, we had gone out maybe twice … and he invited me to his brother’s wedding. It would be our third date. I went primarily because I wanted to see his family, I knew I would get a lot of clues into Deli Guy’s personality from seeing who they were.

I ended up having a cosmic experience that had nothing to do with him, which I clearly have a very difficult time articulating to myself in the journal.

It’s a long ramble. But the memory it describes is precious to me. So herewith, is the next installment of Diary Friday.

September, 1999

“You wanna go to a wedding on Sunday?”
“Yeah, sure, your brother?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“You told me.”
“I did?”
“Yeah …”
“Well, so you want to come?”
“Sure.”
“I think you’d look good in a dress.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. Although when I last saw you at the A&P, I loved what you were wearing?”
“You did??” (I had looked like such a slug.)
“Oh yeah. The overalls? I LOVED those.”
“Well … I do have dresses.”
“Yeah, so I’ll squeeze you in.”
“Into the dress?”
“No, into the wedding.”
“Oh, okay.”

Jen was listening to my end of this conversation as she was unloading her groceries and cracking up over the “squeeze you in” confusion. I was like: “I can squeeze into my own dress, thank you very much …”

Then he started rhapsodizing about my eyes in conjunction with my baseball cap and overalls, and then stopped himself. “Okay, I’m gonna go now. I’m getting’ goofy.”

Then there came the wedding – the weird experience at the wedding – which forced me to accept the reality in front of me instead of attaching myself to what I wanted to be happening. I had a couple of self-pitying moments but then – they seemed futile and silly. What was going on was what was supposed to be going on. (It all goes back to what Kimber always used to say when we were rehearsing a play and it wasn’t going as well as planned: It may not be the play you want, but it’s the play you got.)

I hadn’t gone into this wedding-date with any hyper-specific expectations. Mostly I just wanted to stay as aware as possible, pick up on everything I could, take pictures, and LEARN. Be as relaxed as I could be, so I could receive as much information about Deli Guy as I possibly could.

And then I realized some of my other expectations, only because they did not manifest: like slow dancing with him. Etc. etc. And I realized at one point that a part of me was wishing that he was a different person. Which is ridiculous. And unfair.

I am who I am, and he is who he is.

I don’t want to start any kind of editing process, or self-consciousness. I am into him precisely for the reasons that were (are) driving me crazy … And that’s that. If nothing else, the guy is honest.

Once I relaxed, I felt no more self-pity. I felt ACUTE self-awareness, awareness of “the pattern” – or I should say “my pattern” – But it wasn’t accompanied by the self-destructive whining of “Poor me”, or “Look what always happens to me.” I had more distance. I became curious about my own life. I sat there at the table, watching everyone slow-dance, knowing NO ONE, feeling so separate from everyone, and so connected to myself – at the same time. And I was so interested in my own life – in a kind of ironic detached way. I could see it. My life. For what it was. There it was. All in front of me.

Interesting not in terms of dramaturgy, or “Oh, this would make a good play”, not like that. It was interesting in terms of thematics – (I know I sound like such a cerebral asshole, but that was my experience). The themes of a life – the recurring themes – the pattern, still discernible in the chaos (The Goldberg Variations) … You never lose the pattern, but you need to have clarity of thought and good ears to pick up the theme at times.

And the wedding, for me, was one of those times. One of those times where my mind cleared, and where my ears picked up the pattern of my own life.

So, onto the facts of the case:

Deli Guy slept upstairs through the whole reception.

I talked with Michael and Eve, who were wonderful to me. I can’t even say how much. I liked them both so much. I liked them separately and I loved them as a couple. He is a fireman, she is a physical therapist. They really seemed to get a kick out of each other. One of those couples with a great couple-vibe. Watching them dance together, I started to feel unbelievably wistful.

No, that’s not right.

I didn’t feel – I guess I did feel wistful – but I was more separated than that. I was just watching the dancing, mostly watching the two of them. And I wished I was out there, too. I love to dance. But that was not my situation. I had some time of feeling so far outside everything that it was almost out-of-body.

I am so not describing this.

Basically, I was having a cosmic moment. Sitting on the side of the dance floor, watching all the couples dance. Feeling MY LIFE. Seeing it. MY LIFE. Almost as though it were separate from me. And my self-pity and wistfulness went away a little bit once I got all cosmic. And it felt like what was happening was clearly supposed to be happening.

Yeah, I would have loved to dance with him, out there with Michael and Eve – but that wasn’t the reality in front of me. Why invest in a fantasy? The moment seemed so real, so vital: It felt like the epitome of my life. I have had that experience (sitting on the sidelines, watching all the couples) countless times in my life. And here it was again, only this time, I was actually on a date. That’s what I meant earlier when I said the theme still exists, regardless of the changing circumstances.

It wasn’t a moment of “Woah! Look at what always happens to me! I am always alone! Even when I have a date, I’m not out there on the dance floor!” No. Maybe because I’m finding my way back to God … I felt like something from outside of me was trying to give me a message. It was like I finally was open enough to listen for God. He was trying to speak to me. Or – he was speaking to me – only not in any human language – It was more like he was showing me my life – with love. There was this chorus of “Accept accept accept” – over and over, pulsing through me. God is not a punishing God. He is love.

Something like that.

The theme of being alone watching all the couples happens too much to me for me to go the victim route. Clearly, God has a plan – Something’s going on here that has nothing to do with a self-pitying stance. Whatever’s happening is way deeper than that.

I went up and checked on Deli Guy. He was so fast asleep that his behavior didn’t actually seem like it belonged to the sleep category. It was like he was under hypnosis or his body was there but his self was out on the astral plane somewhere.

Which was what he needed to do. He was taking care of himself. He completely abandoned me, but he needed to take care of himself.

He was lying on the couch in his tuxedo. Or, at least, his body was. I sat down beside his head, squeezing in on the couch. I was still in my cosmic place. (I sound so hysterical. I never talk like this. Astral planes, cosmic places … ) Receptors alive … I felt very mellow, even though I knew no one at this wedding – including Deli Guy, really, and he left me at the reception – awkward, lonely, etc…but I felt really mellow, once the self-pity left. I got out of myself. I was not “replete with very thee”. I accepted the moment in front of me.

And, I got this sense, this feeling, as I sat next to him, that his brain was on fire. That somewhere within him he was burning up. And I suddenly felt so cool – cool temperature-wise, I just knew my hands would cool him down, so I put my palm on his forehead, and left it there, letting the coolness go down into his hot brain. He never woke up, but I kept pouring coolness into him.

Then I left him and went outside to be with myself. I had no idea where I was. Out in NJ somewhere. No clue.

The reception hall was surrounded by trees. We were way out in nature, big empty parking lot, woods all around, night-time, lots of stars, and a great moon. Way high up, clouds rolling over it, big tall dark pine trees, and I wandered thru the parking lot, staring up at the moon, watching it disappear behind the trees, and then the clouds, and then re-appear again. Cricket sounds. I stood there, closed my eyes, soaked it in. Nature.

Cool night – darkness – clouds – stars – trees – crickets – woods –

I was standing in the gravel lot, taking it all in, looking around me, with this major party going on behind me inside. But all sound was muffled outside.

On the other side of the lot (which was surrounded by woods), I suddenly saw this beautiful tranquil smooth “path” of grass, leading up into the darkness of the woods beyond. I felt like it was beckoning to me.

And it’s funny: I saw it, and I heard it call to me, and I had a moment of thinking about it, like: “Wow. That path just called to me. Hm! Cool moment.” I was distanced from it in a way, and then in the next moment came the thought: Why don’t I just answer the call?

So I did.

It took me a couple of seconds to come to the decision: “Let me follow that path.” – which is interesting to me. What else do I have to do? Why do I feel obligated to go back into that reception? Because I’m “supposed” to? Why? And, when I decided to follow the path, I felt like I was experiencing what it was like to be Jen, a lot of the time. When nature calls, she answers unquestioningly. At least it seems so to me.

I teetered on my high heels over the gravel to the path. It was an upward slope of clear grass going up into the woods. Everywhere else around the lot was thick with trees, no way in. (It was all very Blair Witch.) So this swoop of grass was like the yellow brick road. The grass was thick and beautiful, and the second I got into the woods, it was like I was in another world. The reception was a million miles away. My LIFE was a million miles away.

I will cherish my time in the woods forever.

I felt close to everything, and also like I was soaring above everything. The reception really disappeared for me then. I was in the woods – the moon peeking thru the trees – me in my strappy heels. I came to a clearing in the trees. It was a pretty big space – dark and mysterious – grass underfoot – not dirt –

Jersey had been having intense floods that day. The National Guard was everywhere, the phones still weren’t working. People missed the wedding because of roadblocks. And I really wanted to lie down in the grass, but I assumed it would be muddy and wet. I squatted to feel it, and it wasn’t wet at all. It was lush thick grass, but not wet.

Everything was unexpected and perfect.

I lay on my back in the tall grass (wearing my little spaghetti-strap dress) – in the woods – with dark trees all around me – crickets high up – close – far – the moon playing peek-a-boo with the clouds – and the sounds – the sounds of the night were coming up thru the earth into me. It was also like I fell up into the sky. I fell up there with the moon.

The whole thing was RICH.

I have no idea how long I was out there.

And I wasn’t missed when I finally went back in…Of course I wasn’t! Deli Guy was still sleeping and no one knew who I was anyway!

It was BEAUTIFUL. To not be missed.

Lying in the grass in my little dress – with that soaring moon – and the Blair Witch trees all around me –

In looking back on it (that, and also my time sitting on the side, watching all the couples dance) – I felt something profound going on. I felt like if my life could be boiled down to its essence – if you could strip away the ballast, the non-essentials – and you looked into the pot to see what was left, what had survived the alchemical turbulence – those two moments would remain. Those two moments would be there. They say: SHEILA.

They are me. They say ME.

And – because I got that sense – as it was happening, which is so rare – because I got that sense that these moments contain my essence, I stopped judging. I stopped thinking that something else should be happening. I accepted.

I don’t know what it all means, beyond what I just said. But it has stayed with me.

Later in the night, sitting at the table with Michael, he said, “Where’s *****? Smoking a cigarette?” (Judging.)

I said, “No. He’s upstairs sleeping.”

5,000 things went over Michael’s face. Confusion – alarm – annoyance – also concern for me. He was a sweetie, this guy. He said again, like he hadn’t heard right, “He’s sleeping?”

I said calmly, “Yeah.”

I didn’t judge Deli Guy. I felt disappointed, and also slightly embarrassed about being ditched so publicly, but it didn’t manifest in me wanting to wake him up so that I could have a slow-dance with him. He needed to sleep. He got overwhelmed. Too many people. Family issues. His father shot himself a month ago, in front of the family. A month ago. So Deli Guy checked out of the situation. Self-preservation.

Michael took it all in. Then said, “And how are you doing with all of this?”

“Oh, I’m okay. I just took a really cool walk in the woods. It’s okay.”

He just STARED at me. He did not know what to say. Then he said, “You are so brave.”

I burst out laughing. “I am?”

“Jesus CHRIST. Yes! You don’t know anybody here, you don’t even know him … and he goes and falls asleep … and you’re just … you’re just hanging out … I have to tell you. I could not do what you are doing tonight.”

I laughed again. “I don’t know what else to do! I guess he needed to sleep, y’know?”

From that point forward, Michael (and then Michael and Eve) never left my side. They took me out onto the dance floor with them, so the three of us danced together … we went to get drinks together, we took breaks and sat at the table together … we talked … books we were reading, what we do for a living … They completely took care of me. I wish I knew where they lived. I’d like to send them a card. I felt like, when I was with them, “People are good.”

Deli Guy’s cousin Jimmy (who could be cast as an extra on “The Sopranos”) drove us back to Hoboken after the wedding. Jimmy’s a fireman. Tough guy, also sweet sweet SWEET. Sweet with Deli Guy. Everyone was sweet with Deli Guy. Clearly a family concerned.

“If you should ever need anything…”

Jimmy has a tiny red convertible. A hot-shot car. I sat in the back. He put the top down. He drove like an absolutely MANIAC. It was glorious. Nighttime – that huge moon – and the wind blowing on us so hard we had to scream at each other. I sat in the back, hair going nuts, screaming out loud in joy. “WOOOOOOH!” Deli Guy grinning over his shoulder at me.

We were having such a great time driving that we lost the car we were following. We probably, actually, sped right by them – They must have been like: “Guys! You’re supposed to be following us!” Waving frantically at us as we careened off into the night.

Then there was Deli Guy’s clothes chaos … left his bag of clothes somewhere – We had to stop by the church first – but we got lost – random – running into National Guard roadblocks everyhere – soldiers and humvees. Weird.

I eavesdropped on the conversation going on in the front seat. It was killing me. Cousins. That long history. Jimmy’s dad is Deli Guy’s godfather.

Jimmy: “I’m not an educated man, but I’m a very lucky man. I have the best job in the world and I feel lucky. I thank God every day for my life.”

Jimmytalking about spoiling his niece – who’s one year old – buying her sneakers, buying her everything – and ignoring his nephews. He has to remind himself to get them gifts, too. “There’s just something about a little baby girl, y’know? You just want to give her everything!”

Jimmy was asking Deli Guy what was up in his life. Deli Guy gave him the details. Living at the Y in Bayonne, wrote a book which he carries around in a plastic bag, broke. “I’m f***in’ broke, man.”

Jimmy: “Yeah, but you’re doin’ what you gotta do, man. That’s all that matters. And you got your girl –”

I’m the Deli Guy’s girl? Who knew?

So we got hopelessly lost, but then suddenly I thought I recognized a 711 – and then I saw a roadblock which looked familiar – called out over the shrieking wind: “Jimmy! The church is a couple blocks down this street –”

We get to the church. No one there but the National Guard. The church parking lot is full of army jeeps.

So we didn’t get Deli Guy’s clothes back. We moved on. I leaned over the back of the front seat: “You guys – can we just take a moment to revel in how amazing it is that we actually found the church? Even though it came to nothing – let’s just take a moment.”

Jimmy loved that. It made him giggle.

Then Jimmy dropped us off … and something weird happened. Deli Guy had this strutting moose-at-Yellowstone confrontation with a random kid on the opposite sidewalk. “What are you lookin’ at, man? You wanna get into it with me? HUH?”

I was so pissed. I saw red.

He got all sheepish with me, but still defending himself. “He was looking at me!”

That’s a big deal to him. Being looked at. He feels like people can see inside his head.

I flipped out. “So what? What are you, 8 years old? So the man looked at you! So what? It’s one o’clock in the morning and you’re wearing a tuxedo! Maybe he was looking at that. And even if he wasn’t – who cares? So he looked at you! Big deal.”

Deli Guy said, “You sound just like my brother. He’s always saying that to me – Just walk away. Just walk away.”

“You should listen to your brother. That was just so bullshit right now. You f***ing freak me out. What are you gonna do – get into a huge fight with someone, with me standing right there? In my teeny little dress? You would put me at such a risk? You are out of control, dude.” I was pissed off and completely freaked. Adrenaline racing.

Finally he said, “I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not. It better not.”

Despite that one glitch, the evening was fascinating. Not because of Deli Guy, although he is very interesting. It was fascinating because of what was revealed to me about my life. Watching the couples dance, sitting on the side, and lying in the grass out in the woods.

I won’t forget it.