Interchangeable
Written by Christopher J. Lewis and T.C Bryan
“ Where do you want to be? ” Little did Dmitri know just how complex his question was. So while trying to explain how I just needed an open space to run into, my mind began to wonder off, picturing different scenarios. One was how I could live in New York City as a Architectural mastermind. Designing multimillion dollar skyscrapers in my sleep. Then I thought, if I just hopped on a plane.... I could be the great cafe philosopher shacking up with my Parisian actress/model girlfriend, living in the bohemian tenements of Paris’ Left Bank district. I’d imagined next, navigating my bicycle wildly through the narrow alleyways of Amsterdam, free of all inhibitions.
So for these reasons, I yearned for a new landscape. But the reality was that I lived in Philadelphia, out of my $60 per week, closet-sized rented room on the edge of town. Upon these brief reflections, finally I answered... “ You know what, maybe it isn’t so much a place after all, but more of a feeling.” “ Well if you say it’s a feeling, then what does it feel like?” Dmitri pried. What I couldn’t seem to express was it wasn’t so much a feeling or even a particular place... but perhaps, more of a way of life that would satisfy me,... however temporary it was. Dmitri said this made no sense.
And I understood completely because I never could properly describe what I wanted.
So with one more go, I tried to answer Dmitri’s inquiry in a slightly different way. “ If you were to ask me to choose between either ‘A’ or ‘B’. I would tell you that I wanted ‘C’, because ‘ C ’ was never offered.” I’ve long believed someone could offer me an alternative 3rd option or ‘ C ’ or at least point me in another mystical, uncharted point of interest. “ There are options available for a reason.” Dmitri touted.
“ Oh really ”, I said. “ Yes really, because it’s outside the limits of this world for some else to know exactly what’s going on inside your head. Besides, even if they where to physically push you in front of ‘ C’ you don’t even know what ‘ C ’ is. Even being pointed in the general direction of ‘ C ’of what someone else thinks is your ‘ C ’ would influence then cloud your judgment. Thus and so, within the vastness of all known existence, with or with out proper names, these two the ‘question’ and the ‘answer’ cannot coexist, either in a metaphysical or pragmatic sense. Only a mutual understanding may arise.” I was lost in Dmitri nonsensical and convoluted theory as he surely was in mine “ Take the number ‘2’, he began. ‘2’ is nothing more than a representation of an idea. Meaning, for all intents and purposes ‘2’. But you see, it’s only a compromise which all of humanity has come to a general consensus on.” Dmitri when on and on, giving varied examples for about 10 minutes.
Finally I asked, “So Dmitri, what you’re proposing is that through out mankind existence we merely compromises on everything we think we want?”
“Exactly, we are all systematically bred to honor certainties that are not own own. We are all doomed never to find ‘C’. Dmitri and I were both Philosophy graduate students at the University of Pennsylvania and subsequently cursed by our very own education. While still not unlike any other hyperconscious youths who question their life’s purpose, we’d swore if just given more time, together we could unlock the mysteries of the universe. “Tonight my friend, we’ll just have to settle for conclusions without borders.” I said through thick clouds of skunky white smoke.
Part 2
You can’t escape your past
‘God do I want to call her.’ I said, as my body swayed in and out of control. ‘You have to be strong for one more day because everyday you don’t call her, there is a new day of self-worth.’ Dmitri expertly stated. ‘I know, but she still haunts me.’ ‘DUDE, STOP IT!’ ‘Stop what?’ ‘You’re talking yourself into calling her!’ ‘So what?!’ ‘Dude,.... your so fucked!’ Dmitri screamed as I picked up the telephone. My fingers dialed her number as if in slow motion, each number breaking down a different barrier that I’d resisted. And oh how I wished those very same barriers meant something more on a grander scale than what they actually had. I wish she could just understand the humility this phone call meant.
It started like this. “ Hey.... it’s me.... I...I...um...I just wanted to let you know that I love you, wherever you are, whoever your with and.... I wish you the best....um.... I don’t expect you to call me back, but I ...um.... I hope your happy, O.K...bye.’
“ I can’t believe you broke rule number one.” “ What rule number one?” I shouted as Dmitri grabbed the phone from me. “ And give me back my fucking phone!” “Rule number one is, and always has been that you missed them.” It was sort of desperate I have to admit and for the most part I didn’t even know what I was saying or if any of it was the truth. I guess I thought I had something valuable to say but as soon as I heard her hypnotizing voice on the answering machine, I realized I didn’t.
And by then it was already to late. “ O.K. ” Dmitri said. “ Your my friend right, so I want you to listen to me very carefully..... honesty is only for those without hope.” And after Dmitri said this, he didn’t stop laughing for about 3 minutes straight. Then he walk toward the front door and saw himself out. To my surprise, the good news was the very next day she called me back. But as hard as it was to hear her say, “I’m just returning your call...” When all I really wanted to hear her say was that she needed me and sought me out. But this, the reality was much to painful for me to handle. Her voice on my machine confirmed that I was out of sight, and truly out of mind as far as she was concerned.
Part 3
19th and Vine
Today Dmitri was at the Aquarium. He had been there every morning this week where he had been photographing fish for his commissioned mural for the facility. Dmitri’s concept was really quite interesting. Combining the still photos with his sketches, he would illustrate how the waves created by the biggest fish in the tank would induced the directing of the other smaller fish swimming in the same tank. Later on that evening, he and I met at The Philadelphia main Library on 19th and Vine. I’ve always like to meet at the this particular library because of its colossal white marble entrance and meticulously adorned oak lined interiors. The building seemed to somehow enhance us both, bringing in a sense of grandeur to our convoluted conversations to our otherwise tedious daily lives. Within the walls of our surroundings, this library was throbbing with with knowledge as old as the written word and yet still, nowhere inside could ease my heartache. Once inside I immediately began to talk about her. I told Dmitri how I couldn’t walk down the street without turning around abruptly with the hopes that the smell wafting through the air was her perfume and she was sneaking somewhere about. Dmitri leaned back in his seat and excepted his fate as psychoanalyst. “It’s been a month.” I said. “What...yeah, that sounds great?” Dmitri responded disinterested. His attentions were perhaps devoted to some other thought just slightly less obsessive.
“A whole month since I’ve last talked to her, and still, I can’t help but think she couldn’t care less.” “Oh really?...The fact that she’s been dating someone else kind of confirmed that for me..ah.. about...the second after you told me she started seeing Chip. Besides, I wouldn’t even worry about it. I say fuck it, it doesn’t really matter, you see all love ...is interchangeable.” He nonchalantly crucified.
Was Dmitri right? Is the emotion of love in fact interchangeable?
“ Never the less, you can’t escape your past.” I said. “Don’t you understand, the past is something you bring to experience everyday into your present. Today is yesterday’s tomorrow you know. So in being a part of her past. Her and I have begotten mutual experience, new ways of thinking, habits that I’ve influenced and vis-a-versa. That being said, I just hope she still has kept some of the positive memories of our time together. Just knowing I made a difference, that’s all I really wanted.” “Shut the fuck up, you should listen to yourself ! She’s... with... the new guy now. Don’t you get it. The new guy. The new guy! The new guy who is and should be, reminding her about all the times you lied to her. All about the times...I’ll bet the dude’s probably telling her right now, how she’s better off, Hell! I love being the that guy. That one of the best parts. That’s what the new guy does.” Dmitri stated this all with his normal air of didacticism, relenting then strolled over to the magazine section.
My mind began to drift back into reflection mode. Once more I found myself thinking only about the good times. The small things. How I used to cuddle behind her, holding her as we watched a movie, inevitably falling asleep cramped on the couch our arm intertwined like vines, whispering once to me how our bodies must have been meant for each other, fitting together like yin and yang. “Hey! shouted Dmitri, “ Maybe there were some clues if you think back. Like, remember when she told you she didn’t find you physically attractive any more, that’s one, do you remember that?” Dmitri always had a unique knack for punctuating my statements. “ Didn't she tell you during an argument how she thought you were getting a little round in the face. You have to admit, she had a point. You did let yourself go there a little at the tail end of your relationship.” “What are saying?!” “Nothing, I’m just saying.” Other patrons in the library began to stare at Dmitri and I. “Listen”, I whispered. “When your with someone and you really love them, you should be able to see them take a crap! and still...be able to see the beauty within their soul.... if not well, I just don’t know what to tell you.” “Yeah well, I guess that means your the better man than me soldier, cause it’s Hell in there.
"We both broke into smiles. I truly did believe she was just that beautiful, even on the john.
To me she never had a one day, let alone a single moment of entropy or disgrace. That’s what made her so desirable. She always had her shit together, so to speak.
Part 4
Can’t sleep
So around 9:00 Dmitri and I went our separate ways. I went home and tried not to call her, repeating over and over to myself to forget her. But as soon as I got home, I reached for the phone as my inner demons had won. I dialed her number with nervous anticipation. Hello?....Hi.....? She replied with hesitation and force surprise. I again, immediately broke the proverbial rule number one, as I uncontrollably confessed just how much I’ve missed her. How much I’ve been thinking about us, then asking has she’s been doing with her free time now she was a waitress. She mistakenly asked for my opinion about her position, which, she was not prepared to hear nor respond constructively to. I told her how I felt what she was doing was below her abilities and how her mother when down the same path before, much to her regret. I told her how I just wanted her life to be filled with true happiness and fulfillment. All of this was true, albeit, I was not the preferred messenger. “That’s where your wrong! You’ve got me all wrong... I have more self-confidence, more happiness and freedom now, and you're a hypocrite! Because your life, ain’t all that great!” She responded in her naturally defensive way. I knew she was right, about being a hypocrite but, truth be told, the notion of fairness never really bothered me. Sure, I’d lost 2 jobs in the last month. Sure, I’ve spent more time looking for work, than actually working. But to my defense, I’ve also been quite busy on my own, preoccupied with my search for a new landscape. However, she had brought up a good point. Did I even have the right to criticize her? Did a three year relationship give me that power? No, .... it didn’t.... because I had no power. I wasn’t her lover. I was barely even her friend. Nor was I a stranger. I was simply an artifact of her past. One without a useful purpose in the present. And this is what I was to her. This is what her tone suggested when she said,...hello who’s this?...oh...hey......
And this was my reality. The new relationship between her and I had been reduced to the trivial. Conversations about the weather...about what jobs we were working and how things were, talking to her was in line with going to the museum. Forced conversations about how thing once were. Conversations about a friend we both once knew, but most importantly, what things that have happened to us both... as individuals. She was exactly right on. I was a hypocrite. And apparently, one with fuzzy historical reference.
Part 5
Fuck it
Why can’t I can’t go to sleep. Fuck it, it’s 6 am, Monday morning and I have class in less than 2 hours. I know I’m going to feel the misery around noon, when I’ll no doubt be among the living dead. And conveniently, that’s when my mind will shift it self into day dream mode. Those same desperate dreams involving her denying me the privilege of being part of her life. Even in my dreams she still ends up cutting me off and leaving me stranded, all the while I just stand there as she goes off to find a better life. I understand that the dreams are a response to unresolved problems from the past, but why do they all have to be so damn painful. I have this intense feeling to call her right now and say lets get back together, and everything will be fine...I won’t make the same dumb mistakes I made before and I promise you’ll be happy this time. We’ll laugh at the same jokes, we’ll even appreciate more of the same things and live out the rest of our lives in a blissful togetherness, BLAH, BLAH, FUCKING BLAH, who am I kidding?! Dmitri was right. I should listen to myself sometimes. Most of the time my brain confuses itself with these conflicting conscious thoughts.
Part of the time, the truth is that I do feel contents with her moving on with her life. But in addition, I feel that just as long as one of us carries a flame it will all work it self out in the end. If only on a surface level, only now am I slowly excepting the real truth, that I’m afraid that I ‘ll never see her again. Or if I do, it won’t be in the same capacity that I’ll desire. Yet I know deep down inside, somewhere, she still loves me. But it’s just not in the same way that I love her. I don’t think it’s that she completely doesn't care, but more it’s the manner in which she cares. That’s what has changed. That is, what I’m afraid, is what’s truly haunting me. That she might come back, but not as I had known her. Essentially, the difference is that I will always hold my love her in the same way as I have always had loved her. And that’s the reason why wise men have said, “ For it is better to be loved than to love. ” I’m afraid. No, make that, I’m terrified, that my bitter emotions are slowly becoming the bitter reality. Now only time can pass and weaken these dreams. But just as soon as I eat something we’d both enjoyed or I hear one of our songs play away in a strangers car as it sits idle at a traffic light. BANG! That old feeling starts tearing at me. And the tearing comes two fold. From both my rational and emotion sides, saying, “ Yeah, those times...they’ll never happen again, those moments, she’ll never be that beautiful and those conversations will never be that engaging.” And now she’s 3000 miles away. But in those tender, lost moments in whatever strange and intermediate state they so happen to reside, I feel closer to her than ever. Those.... have been my dreams. Hours upon hours of those feelings. Sweetened memories punctuated with the stark knowledge that I have been completely abandoned. I keep trying to believe Dmitri, that it doesn’t matter and that love is simply ones own perception or twist on reality. But what I’d lost with her was the only thing that had ever made any sense. The only thing that truly mattered to me and that spark, that made me feel human. Now, I just feel lost,... searching alone in the emptiness, while she goes on to find new meaning with someone new. Did we really matter? Was any of it ever true? Had I been living under a deluded, romanticized lie coddled by my own insecurities? Why was it over, what had changed? Why I’m I thousands of miles away from snuggling with her on the couch? Why am I writing instead of rejoicing under her spell? Fuck it, it doesn’t matter. Because what love was once there, is I’m afraid, in fact interchangeable.
Christopher J. Lewis lives in Florida
Friday, September 28, 2007
