December 13th, 1990

December 13th, 1990

At home, England

Mum and dad are going to Spain for Christmas and New Year, a decision they made tonight after I reassured them I’ll be fine without them.

Talking about New Year’s Eve reminds me of last year, when I went to the party in Notting Hill with Sebastian. I really must make an effort to catch up with him but it’s so difficult to keep in touch when I’m away so much of the time. Having said that, with David no longer in the picture, I’ll have more time on my hands, the thought of which alone makes me sad.

 

December 9th, 1990

December 9th, 1990
Flight from CDG – LHR as a passenger
At home, England

As wonderful as it was to be in Paris again, I vowed not to return until the next time I’m in love, which, at the rate I’m going, might be a while!

November 30th, 1990

November 30th, 1990

Night flight from JFK – MAN

Met the girls this morning and walked to the Rockefeller Center for breakfast, where we paid a small fortune for the privilege of watching a combination of overweight tourists and wannabe Torvill and Dean’s ice skating.

I ate pancakes (couldn’t help but compare them to David’s) slathered in syrup, with a side of bacon. I’ve decided I don’t give a shit about my weight anymore. I intend to eat to my heart’s content and my uniform no longer fits (which won’t take long!)

The girls headed back to the hotel but I was enjoying the hustle and bustle so decided to stay out. I thought about ringing Christopher to see if he wanted to meet for lunch (part of my new weight gain program!) but figure I’ll do that when we return, a few days from now.

Spent hours browsing in Barnes & Noble, where I found a beautiful book about the Taj Mahal I knew David would love but no sooner had the thought entered my head when the reality of the situation took over and that’s when I knew it was time to leave.

 

November 28th, 1990

November 28th, 1990

At home, England

 

My bum is numb from so much time on the phone today!

Millie – How was Thanksgiving with Mr. LA?

It didn’t happen.

Why not?

Apparently, he’s gay.

She started to laugh, then promptly stopped. You’re kidding, right?

I’m not kidding, Millie. He met someone else. A guy.

He can’t be gay. You slept with him!

 

Annabel – Miss McGarr! I just wanted to ring and see how you are.

Thanks Annabel, that’s sweet of you.

Are you ok?

I will be.

I’m so sorry. Such a dreadful shock. I shall never forget how sad you looked.

I’m so glad you were there, thank you for everything.

Oh gosh, it was nothing. Listen, don’t forget Christmas Eve. I’m lining up a bevy of beauties for you to choose from!

 

Lorna – Hiya honey, so, how was it?

Thanksgiving?

Aye.

It was terrible and that’s putting it mildly.

Och, dull family, I had a feeling.

Actually, I didn’t get to meet them.

Why not?

David and I split up.

You better be bloody kidding!

Sadly, I’m not.

What happened?

He met somebody else.

Who is it?

A guy. He’s seeing a guy.

Silence.

First time for everything.

 

Frankie – Hello darling, are you still stuffed, if you know what I mean, bwahhahaha!

Not at all. Thanksgiving didn’t happen.

Oh no, the aircraft went tech?

No, the boyfriend met someone else and dumped me.

No way!

Unfortunately, yes.

Crumbs. I wonder who she is?

He. It’s a he.

A guy?

Yes.

But you-

Yes, I slept with him.

Shit!

No shit.

 

 

 

 

November 27th, 1990

November 27th, 1990

At home, England

Woke up crying from a dream in which I was floating in the sea with David. We were entwined in an embrace, when I saw a look of horror flash across his face. I turned to see sharks, hundreds of them, making their way in our direction. David let go and swam away from me. I screamed his name over and over, but just as the sharks began circling me, he disappeared underwater. That’s when I woke up and saw mum in the doorway, her expression not unlike that of David’s in the dream.

“Wit’s the matter?”

“I had a nightmare,” I sniffed.

“I heard you screaming,” she said. “Are you alright?”

“It was a really disturbing dream.”

“Sounds like this depression,” she sighed.

“Climb in,” I said, pushing the duvet down. “I’m going to make us tea and toast, then we need to have a chat.”

“I’m no interested in talking about this,” she uttered, sounding like a petulant child.

“I don’t want to talk about you mum,” I said, my angry tone surprising me. “There’s some stuff I need to tell you.”

Her posture straightened and she looked at me in a way she never has. “Did something bad happen in LA?”

I nodded. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“You stay where you are,” she motioned. “I’ll make the tea and toast.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, shocked by the transformation in her.

“Aye,” she said, fluffing the duvet around me. “I’ll be right back.”

Typically, when mum crashes, it can be months before she starts the slow climb back up but for whatever reason, my words hit a chord with her, propelling her into another state of being.

She returned with the antique tray, laden with all sorts and placed it on the bedside table, then she perched on the edge of the bed, reminding me of David. She poured the tea and handed me a slice of buttery toast “Go on,” she urged.

I started telling her about David, in between which, she plied me with tea and more toast, not interrupting even once, which is very unlike her. When I was done, she hugged me tight and said she was sorry and that if she was, “Feeling just a wee bit chirpier, I’d fly to LA and wring his bloody neck,” which of course made me laugh.

We spent the rest of the day in my room, talking about David, Dad and depression. I don’t recall a time when we talked as openly as we did today. I have a tendency to shield mum from anything I think might upset her for fear it will knock her into a downward spiral but today I saw a strength in her I’ve never seen before, especially when she opened up to me as much as I did to her.

“Do you want me to stay tonight?” She asked.

“Are you not ready to go home yet?”

“Aye, I’m ready to go home,” she nodded. “But if you feel you need me to stay with you-”

“I’m ok,” I smiled, reaching over to hug her. “Plenty more fish in the sea, right?”

“Millions,” she smiled. “And all you need is one.”

 

November 26th, 1990

November 26th, 1990

At home, England

I don’t know what took place between mum and dad but frankly I don’t have the energy or inclination to ask. All I know is mum is still here, showing signs of crashing deeper into the dark hole, which I imagine must be terrifying and for that reason alone, I’ll do everything I can to try and help her.

The reality of no more David grabbed me by the throat this morning, when I spotted the dolphin he gave me on top of the dresser. I promptly shoved it in the drawer, then pulled it out again and ended up sitting on the floor crying, clutching it like it had magical powers to make everything good again.

I’m sad I never got to see his new place but the more I think about it, the more likely it seems he moved in with this new guy. I’m angry with him for letting me down and I feel like I deserved more, but what more could he possibly have given me? He’s been hiding (and denying) a huge part of himself for who knows how long, so regardless of how I feel, I hope he’s able to live the rest of his life being true to himself. I always got the impression his family were pretty conservative so I expect coming out might not be easy for him.

There’s so much I want to know and I doubt I’ll ever get answers to my questions but that won’t stop me from asking them.

 

November 25th, 1990

November 25th, 1990

At home, England

Today is the one-year anniversary of Nana’s death, which I suspect is partly responsible for mum’s plummet into this latest episode with depression. I lit some candles for Nana and hoped mum and I could do something special to commemorate the day but the most mum was capable of was going from the couch to the guest bedroom. I sat on the bed, desperately wanting to pour my heart out and be consoled but sadly mum is in no state to help herself, let alone anyone else.

With mum as she is, I rang dad and suggested she spend the night here again. I could tell he was relieved by the suggestion and said he really appreciated the help. I was dreading him mentioning David, so I made an excuse that I had to go before he had the chance to.

I feel the need to talk about David and what happened but at the same time, I just want to lock it all away and pretend it didn’t happen, which I know is utterly ridiculous. I can’t believe I won’t see him again and that he’s no longer part of my life.

After Ben and I split up, I was heartbroken but regardless of whether we’re together or not, I get to see how life is unfolding for him. With David and the distance between us, that won’t happen. It’s not as if I’ll ever bump into him or hear about him through friends. I’ll never know how he’s doing and how life is treating him and the reality of that stings deep. Added to the fact there was no warning, or if there was, I didn’t see it. Everything came to such an abrupt ending which I think I’m still reeling from. Blindsided, for sure.

I can’t help but think if David had told me he met another girl, would I feel different? Would I have made an attempt at finding out more to see if there was any way we could patch things up? I don’t know the answer to that and I don’t want to sound flip but the reality is, he’s not interested in not only me but my gender, so regardless of what I do or don’t do, I guess it doesn’t matter.

It seems ironic that mum is upstairs in bed in zombie mode due to depression and I’m downstairs, feeling like a big part of my world has ended.

 

November 24th, 1990

November 24th, 1990

At home, England

Because of the delay, we didn’t land at LHR ‘til after five tonight, by which time it was already dark and more than dreary looking. I felt utterly depressed on the crew bus to the car park with Andy, for whom I must remember to buy a thank you card. He was an absolute sweetheart and shared so much about how and when he came out to his family, leaving me to hope that if and when David comes out, his family will accept him in the way Andy’s did.

About halfway home, the reality of no relationship with David hit me and I wouldn’t know where to start describing how it feels. I couldn’t wait to get home, crawl into bed and perhaps not get up for a very long time.

When I pulled up, the kitchen light was on. That’s strange I thought. I must’ve forgotten to turn it off. For the first time ever, I left my suitcase in the car and thought I’d freeze to death on the doorstep, fiddling with the key.

I turned on the light in the hall and the living room and felt my heart sink when I spotted mum, asleep on the couch.

“Mum,” I said, gently trying to rouse her. “Mum, are you ok? What are you doing here?”

She made a sound but her eyes remained shut.

“Are you ok? Does dad know you’re here?”

She half opened her eyes but I could tell from the blank stare she was already in what she sadly refers to as, “The dark tunnel.”

“I’ll be right back,” I uttered, heading upstairs, where I grabbed the extra blanket off the bed in the guest room.

I draped the blanket over mum, slipped off her shoes and rang dad.

“Do you know mum’s here?”
“Aye, I’m sorry hen, we had a few, eh, words and she-”

“I understand. She can spend the night here, looks like she’s in a bad way again.”

“It’s that bloody depression, it just creeps up on her and makes her…uff, I don’t even know.”

“I know,” I sighed. “It’s the pits.”
“Make sure she disnae take too many tablets.”

“I’ll see what she has in her bag and give them to her as needed.”

“Thanks hen, I’d come and get her but-” Sensing his voice was about to crack, I said, “Don’t worry, she’s fine here. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“I should ask how Thanksgiving went, was it good?”

“Eh,” I said, feeling the lump in my throat. “I’ll fill you in later.”

“Aye ok, hen. Give me a wee phone in the morning or if you need anything tonight, disnae matter what time it is. You know that.”

“I do, thanks dad.”

 

November 20th, 1990

November 20th, 1990

At home, England

I’ve been thinking about my time with Ben and I wonder if, when he sees Mandy, he’ll feel as guilty as I do about what happened.

If David asks if I’ve been with anyone, I’ll be honest with him but to this point, it’s something we’ve never discussed. David doesn’t strike me as the type to sleep around and he’s not the most sexual man to begin with. Don’t get me wrong, that part of our relationship is good, but I get the impression it’s not the most important thing in the world to him.

When I’m with Ben, we can’t get enough of each other. That’s the way it’s been with us. I can count on one hand, the number of times we’ve been in each other’s company and not ended up in let’s say, a compromising position. Being with David is lovely and it feels great, but it’s not the rip your clothes off, knock things over and break stuff (a lamp this time!) experience I still share with Ben.

Anyway, back to today, phew, I got a bit carried away there! I just need to determine what David thinks “this,” is and where he feels we’re headed and the only way I’m going to find out is by asking him, which of course I’m already dreading. I’m the opposite of bold when it comes to such matters but perhaps on the drive to San Diego I’ll do what mum does and hold him captive in an attempt to get answers to my questions!

David never did ring back but in an effort to start afresh (which includes no more Ben!) I need to just let it go. So much gets lost on the phone and things of little significance can quickly escalate to become a big deal. I don’t want it to be like that between us, so, with that in mind, I’m taking a deep breath, pressing the refresh button and packing the blue dress, in the hopes I’ll get to wear it.

 

November 17th, 1990

November 17th, 1990

At home, England

Just got off the phone with David and I wish he hadn’t called.

He’s been gung-ho about me spending Thanksgiving with his family and we’ve discussed the details over and over, but then tonight, he had the audacity to say, “You know, I’ve been thinking.”

Uh-oh, I thought. In my experience, those words are usually followed by words that bring tears, not necessarily in a joyous way.

“I think it’s too soon.”

“What is?” I asked, fearing I already knew the answer.

“Too soon for you to spend the holiday with my family.”

“Oh,” I uttered, a lump quickly forming in my throat. “You mean Thanksgiving?”

He mumbled a sound of agreement. “What are your thoughts?”

“Ehm, I mean, we’ve talked about-”

“So, you’re good with it? If you don’t come, you’re good with it? Cool.”

Absolutely not cool!

“I wouldn’t go that far-”

“Listen, I gotta go, but we can follow up when you get here.”

“Follow up?” I hissed, the reality of what he was saying beginning to seep in.

“Sorry, I mean we can discuss it more, when you get here.”

I’d much prefer to know before we touch down in LA.

“Ok, I’ll ring you when I get to my room, should be just after four.” Curt tone. Fully intentional.

“No need,” he said, sounding more than a little distracted. “Just meet me in the lobby. I’ll be there at eight. Maybe nine. I’ll leave a message.”
“Nine? Why so late?”

“I don’t have time to get into it right now!” His tone was so abrupt that I actually held the receiver away from my ear and by the time I put it back, he was gone.

Something about his tone has left me feeling uneasy. I know he has a stressful job and I know he has a tendency to allow the demands of it to affect him but usually when that happens, we talk about it and he says doing so makes him feel much better.

I’m sorely tempted to ring him back but with the mood I’m in, that’s probably not the best idea. I’ll wait for him to contact me to apologize, which hopefully will happen sooner, rather than later.