I'm guessing we got something at Berkeley Bowl in the morning. Actually I know we did. Then we walked over to a cafe and sat outside at a small table. We didn't say too much. Susan got high on some caffeine. We ate fruit. I smoked a cigarette. Mostly we stared into each other's eyes and I tried to feel emotions. How surreal. I met Susan when I was a senior in high school, although I didn't know it then. I met her again at this very house in Larkspur in the summer of 2008, although again I didn't really connect the dots. She showed up at the apartment Colleen and I had, at a party, and tooled everyone pretending to be more drunk than she was. Then I randomly ran into her at NDK. Tiny bits and pieces, coincidences and teases.
I didn't really know Susan until one day when we went to the aquarium in Denver, and she took me on a tour of the city, where she had been living, and walking. She dressed up as my "magical faerie guide," a title she gave herself with a hint of irony I can't quite put my finger on. I can't say we talked all that much, but we didn't really need to. I can't say I knew a whole lot about her, but I didn't need to. We were on our first adventure - a sort of state that comes with its own vocabulary and peculiarities, that, with Susan, always evolves into a story of our own immediate creation. At night we sat in her loft in a ghetto part of Denver where a huge speaker played Christian radio just outside her window on the roof all day and night. "Who are you?" I thought. I was hooked on this person: "Susan."
Why do I feel this way about you? When I'm with you. There's this feeling that I cannot explain in words or by touch, but only by the barest act of looking directly at you. And every time I do I see something that I have never seen in anyone else.
Susan is a wanderer in my life. She comes and goes as she pleases. For a week I wandered into hers... like stumbling into a beautiful impressionist painting by the sea. We had our longest adventure yet; I wanted to tell the story to all of you who read this, but now I think only Susan and I can read it, and it has no words. I sat at the small table looking at her with the utmost gratitude for this feeling that I can't describe. For this intensity. It's silly but I cried a single tear while I looked at her, sad to see our time together disappear. I said something that in hindsight I find very cheesy but I found appropriate for the experience I had had with her.
We walked to the BART station and I bought my ticket to the airport where I would leave Susan and my vacation behind. I gave Susan a hug and we said goodbye. I feel like now some circle, maybe one among many between us, that started that day when she said "cheers" in Denver, became complete the day I left San Francisco... and I am hoping for many more to come.
Lesbian Unicorn and Magical Faerie Guide, from Denver to San Francisco: The End
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