From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Sunday, May 16th, 1999 11:24 AM
Subject: RE RE RE RE another drink
I loved last night. I really did. I’m so sorry that my friends barged in like that. I honestly didn’t know they where coming. But you seemed to like them anyway. Or at least pretended you liked them.
Marcus rang me this morning to say he had a nice night by the way. He also wanted me to pass on a hello.
So, hello, from Marcus.
He was all weird and cryptic too – but that’s Marcus. He can be a fucking pain, I tell you. I think he plays it ‘all secret codes’ and allusions to boost his currency.
Once he told me that he thinks he knows every word in the dictionary.
Anyway, back to last night:
Can I tell you what I really liked about last night?
I really liked how there were ten other people crowded around the table, but at some point they became just a collective and we were the only two individuals left.
Did you feel that?
I also love how we talked for hours - sitting quite close and telling secrets. Well maybe not secrets (note to self; stop inflating everything) I guess we just shared stories.
And it wasn’t that we were ignoring the other people. It was just we took our time, our space and owned it.
I know I sound a little like one of those people that I usually want to drown in their own opinion – but it felt special in a way.
Maybe I shouldn’t dwell on it. Maybe I should take a leaf out of your book and live in the moment.
But I can’t stop thinking of it. Here’s my favourite moment:
It was about one o’clock in the morning. I guess I was a little drunk, the steak was sitting well in the stomach and you had half a beer left. We had just stopped talking about how many sexual partners we’d had and I lied telling you twelve (once we know each other better, I’ll tell you the real number)
You’d only had three (not sure if that’s the truth either – not that I’m calling you a slut – okay I’ve gone a little mad, now - back to the moment…)
So it was one o’clock and I realised that I’d been sitting on those aluminium chairs for hours. And with all the beer I needed to excuse myself.
Actually I’d needed to excuse myself for ages; but I was so enjoying your company, I didn’t want to leave it.
The truth is I thought that once I leave – even for that brief moment – I knew that when I came back someone else could be sitting in my chair trying to have the same conversation with you. And you’d be polite. You wouldn’t tell them to leave. You’d listen to them. You’d maybe even like them and that’s okay. It would simply mean that our moment was over. And it had to end sometime, right?
So there I was in the bathroom, trying to be as quick as possible and my mind was racing.
I was flashing through each small moment that we had, trying to grasp onto it as one lump. Trying to relive the moments quickly for in doing so I might fill the gap.
But as I washed my hands, I got a glimpse of my face in the bathroom mirror and I stopped. I actually stopped and took a breath and I heard you. I heard your existentialism and felt calm. It was just me and my breathing and the moment and everything was calm. I didn’t have fear, I didn’t have jealousy, I didn’t have expectation and I didn’t have disappointment. Instead I had a playful and refreshing sense of nothing.
It was genuine, truly genuine.
With this new found sense, I stood and walked out of the bathroom and to my surprise I saw you sitting in the same spot. You hadn’t moved and there was no one sitting next to you. My place was still there, my chair. The collective had still remained without character and you and I were the only two people left on earth.
So I approached. You looked up when I was near and you smiled. You smiled at me. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone really smile at me - ever. Not like your smile.
So I sat down - back in my chair and I felt it was different. My all night groove in it was slightly out of shape. And then you told me:
“People had tried to sit there but I told them it was taken.”
It was taken.
That was my favourite moment. Indeed I think it has definitely been my favourite moment of the year.
Thanks for giving me that.
PS sorry I left so abruptly. Started to get the head spins.