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5
After a nearly sleepless night, I awoke the next morning to the sound of polite knocking on my apartment door.
It baffled me at first. I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming or not, partly because it stopped as soon as my head was up off my pillow.
Then, just as I was about to lie back down, the knocking started again – steady, light, but insistent.
When I realized I really
was
awake, I was terrified.
Oh no – they’re going to evict me,
I thought, until I remembered I had paid the current month’s rent while I was on the road with Derek.
Then I thought,
Oh SHIT – it’s Derek!
To be honest, that last thought made my heart soar at the same time that it scared me to death. I wasn’t thinking properly, having just been jerked out of the only hour of sleep I’d had all night. My thoughts were ping-ponging back and forth between the dread of
I can’t let him in, he’ll never leave
to the bitterness and hatred of
That cheating, lying asshole
to the hearts and flowers of
Oh my gosh, he came all the way to New York to see me!
As I shuffled from my bed to the door, though, I realized it couldn’t be either – because neither my landlord nor Derek would have been politely knocking. They would have been pounding with their fists and yelling at the top of their lungs.
I glanced at the crappy microwave on top of the ancient refrigerator in what passed for my kitchen. 8:17 AM.
“Who is it?” I yelled as I got to the door.
“Ryan,” came the muffled voice from the other side.
All the terror left me, to be replaced by shock and bewilderment and confusion.
I undid the half-dozen locks on my door and opened it. There he was, dressed exactly as I’d last seen him yesterday morning in Vegas. Expensive jeans, badass shoes, an ancient Ramones t-shirt, plus a leather jacket slung over his arm.
I goggled up at him. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled. “Oh, you know… I was in the neighborhood.”
As soon as he said that, I
knew
why he was here.
To comfort me.
And I burst into tears.
