Susie,

i can’t think of the west coast without thinking of you.

i have family there. i have friends there. but until you moved away i had no desire to visit.

i miss you.

i remember that first time you stayed over. we argued about what to listen to while we fucked. you wanted “knocked out loaded” for silvio and i wanted “bringing it all back home” for it’s all over now, baby blue. we split the difference and settled on blood on the tracks (three spins of side A and two of B before we traded fours and collapsed in a heap).

you were gone when i woke up--left for your mystery job in the wee hours. for a good hour i was literally *frightened* that i’d never see you again.

i went to shower and could smell your fragrance in the air. i quickly turned off the fan to keep it around longer.

and then i saw it. jesus, i was floored.

i stepped into the tub and sat on the edge and just looked at the wall. you’d taken five loose hairs and hung them using the moisture, like some sort of biological hieroglyphics:

xo

- s

i sat there until the tail of the S came loose and pointed straight down at the soap dish.

i crawled back into bed and took the pillow you’d used and hugged it tight. more of your scent was there and i breathed it in and you were in me the way i was inside you hours before. i remembered your face as you came and how you tried to hide it, not wanting to lose the bet about who would last longer. and that look was enough for me to surrender. even then you had me wrapped around your finger, giving in and agreeing we’d call it a draw.

the apartment seems kind of strange without you around. the kitchen smells different without your cooking; the hallways feel different without your art (you still have that stranger than paradise poster?); the front closet still has that lonely boot--the one satchel ate the partner of. i can’t permit myself to throw it out.

the strangest thing is that i can’t bring myself to use the second washroom. no showers for me now. just baths.

i was fine till the winter came--good for two months or so i guess. but then i stepped in there in october and the cold floor on my bare feet caused memories to flush through me: the time you got drunk on white wine and felt sick and i sat beside you, both of us shivering on the tiles, waiting to see if you really had to vomit or if your body had tricked your mind.

i was behind you, one hand reached around touching your stomach, the other keeping your hair out of your face. when i could, i pulled off your shirt so it wouldn’t get soiled and you apologized for being “pathetic” and i told you you were beautiful no matter what. you cried as i touched my lips to your neck and shoulders, trying to comfort you as best i could. my left hand let go of your hair (it seemed safe) and found your scar. i felt you cringe as i touched it and then you turned and buried your head in my chest, embarrassed.

we sat there in the cold and held each other until i asked if you could get to your feet. you nodded, silent, and i stood up, reaching down to help you stand. but instead you hugged my legs and asked if loved you. i said yes and you squeezed tighter.

“what’s wrong?”

“i just feel… cold… inside. my stomach and chest hurt. i can’t imagine tomorrow.”

we were quiet, then. and without looking up you spoke once more: “can we make love?”

“of course we can. don’t we always?” and i grabbed your arms and tried to pull you up.

“no. now. here.” and you looked up at me and started to undo the buttons on my pants.

despite the eerieness of your talk and the coldness of the tile, i was hard before you got my underwear off.

your lips felt so nice that night, your mouth so right. almost immediately i felt faint, my head drunk and spinning, my body feeling new sensations. i lowered myself to your lap so as not to fall and you continued to make me weak. i thought i would melt into the floor.

i don’t know how you got your skirt off but you did, and you were on top of me, desperate but in control.

it was the quickest we’d ever made love. i had to crane my head to see past sink pipes to your face. you were on fire that night, so determined.

it was over so fast but was delicious just the same.

spent, you climbed off me and raced back to the bed. i was right behind you and we dove under the covers and spooned, welcoming the heat of the blankets. you blew out the candle and as we watched the light fade you said my name.

“Dobbs?”

“yeah?”

“i love you too.”

“i know you do, sweetie. i know.”

Susie… how long’s the flight to b.c.?

Dobbs