I told Rachel where to go and it was all by memory. I've never navigated those roads without him before. The house was empty when I got there. Cool inside for such a hot day and I was thankful for the absence of mother, brother, father. I left the things on the counter and was about to leave when I thought of going downstairs. The room was dark, the bed stripped of all his bedding, that bad picture of me still on his wall.

I stood at the foot of the bed, remembered the first time we had sex, remembered the last, and touched some of the things on his desk. I smiled, thinking of all the smiles we've shared. I said goodbye to that room because I don't know when or if I'll ever be there again. Out loud, so no one in particular but myself could hear, and made my way up the stairs. There was nothing on the porch or in the kitchen to write on or use to mark that I'd been there save for the items on the counter. So, I walked out. I teared up as I made my way down the stairs, got back in the car, and joined Rachel mid-song... and we pulled out of the driveway singing along to Ben Kweller
"Lizzy I'll write, I'll sing,
telegraph, telegram, telephone, tellin' you
I'll be home soon. "

home soon It only encouraged the welling up of tears, but they were dried when I thought of the beauty of it all. The two years leading up to this point, no matter how marred by recent trials and tribulations.

"It's so beautiful here" Rachel said.

...

Driving on an overpass that looks out onto rows and rows of planned communities, all the roofs looking the same, all the driveways identical, a song is playing
"If Heaven and Hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs

If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark"

My mind can't help but wander to Greensboro, NC. I think of what that city might look like. I think of the beautiful soul which resides there and the gift he was able to give me without knowing it. Hope for men and women. Hope for my generation.

I am alone, but I am with people. Two in the car. One an old dear friend, the other a new and exciting one.

The photo shoot went well. I was comfortable in front of Tina and at ease with Rachel. The only upsetting part being when I went to go get our bags and I couldn't because I had absentmindedly placed them on a table surrounded by broken glass, and there I was in barefeet.
...

Lately I clam up. Or I let loose. Letting my mouth move before my brain can decide which sounds to make, which intonations and insinuations are appropriate. I walk away insinuating nothing and putting my accents on all the wrong syllables.
And tonight I am in my empty apartment complete with its empty room and empty bed. At night I ache for someone next to me, but awake content to be alone. Having another person here gets in the way of morning routine, interrupts the ebb and flow of my NPR, insufficient breakfast, and outbursts of dancing to Tom Jones.
I know I could have it if I want it, but the idea of another arm around me, another person to call religiously, another set of lips to be resigned to sends shivers down my spine.
Autonomy.
Four syllables which hold four volumes of mornings alone, afternoons with sisters, nights complete with a couple of beer and many friends.
For awhile, I forgot this is my life. It slipped my mind that these are my gifts.

Driving home with Rachel today, belting out Rilo Kiley ... that is Love. She's so good at reaching those notes, but has never laughed at me for being better at singing all the boy's parts. I never feel inadequate or out of tune.
...

Nick made me understand that loving one person does not mean you love another any less. And I am glad because even though I was slowly coming to that conclusion myself, he put it into words before I got There. Making it easier. Making closure and peace easier to locate on the map. Love is exponential. Honesty, when betrayed, becomes brutal. Openness, when practiced, opens the door to better endings. Love, a blessing.
..