Mother, as jaded as she became somewhere along the line, still knows how to throw a spectacular dinner party. She cares about the little things and spends hours setting the table, decorating the dining room with colorful lights and arranging fresh flowers in her Lalique crystal vases.
This past weekend she invited her most expensive friends and told Chloe and me we could stay if we would just keep quiet. After three hours of listening to mindless monologues we managed to escape out into the fresh Manhattan night air and walked to a club downtown. Chloe looked so happy in the tattooed arms of a thirty-something clothing designer, I ended up finding someone to sleep with and never call again.
I woke up on Sunday morning with his heartbeats next to mine, and I've never felt more alone. It reminded me of the boy I left behind in LA, the one I grew up with up and who still loves me for some reason. My Carl. That Sunday morning in someone's bed, between someone's sheets, he was closer to me than the someone that held me with his arms wrapped tight around me. I could almost hear his voice from across the wasteland as I put my clothes on and walked out into the sleeping streets unnoticed.
"Avy", he whispered inside my head, "that could have been you and I".