Unfinished Business
Brooklyn to Orlando to East Hollywood
It’s early evening and I’m stowed away in the final row of seats on a dirt cheap flight that will transport me from LaGuardia to Orlando to Los Angeles to an East Hollywood studio apartment within the next 24 hours. Within the next 24 hours I will be temporarily residing in a home that neighbors the home of my dear best friends Max & Ella, which neighbors the home of their dear best friend redacted. Seated next to me on this flight is an older brother, younger sister duo who sweetly get along. The stark affection they display towards one another puts a knot in my throat. Jealousy rises like bile. Currently stinking up the plane with my vomit flavored attitude. The brother is holding a bag of goldfish crackers out to his sister and she’s scooping up handfuls & sticking em in her mouth, letting them sit on her tongue. He lets her take multiple scoops before plucking up some pieces for himself.
As the plane dips towards the earth, the sun follows suit. I have a 10 hour layover in Orlando & I hesitate over crafting a text to my dear hometown friends. A pit stop could realistically be in the cards. A hug hello & a kiss on the cheek, their hands in mine, fingers intertwined, eyes interlocked, and then a harmless departure! Back to the airport, back to the plan. I deliberate on this idea. It could be harmless! It is probably harmless. Home, hello, hugs, kisses, the works. Quick, easy, painless. Or I could continue to avoid this confrontation in its entirety. Keep pushing it back to maybe later. Yes, I think that this is exactly what I will do. I delete my carefully crafted text to my dear friends & opt instead for not revealing to anyone that I am momentarily, on a technicality, in town. I instead choose to spend my night: hiding out in the emptiest terminal of the airport that I can find, until today becomes tomorrow. I’ve draped my body parallel along three chairs, my torso & shins trapped under arm rails that I’ve wiggled myself through. This’ll do. I pull a long floral dress out of my backpacking bag to drape over my body as a makeshift blanket & a cotton t-shirt to drape over my face as a makeshift eye mask and lull myself into a makeshift slumber.
I pretend to sleep for the next few hours, eyes pressed shut, stomach lurching. Pretending for an audience of 1: myself. I tire of my act and my eyes peel open at the witching hour. I spend the hours from 3-6 switching between phone scrolling, pressing play on Love Island, inspecting my disheveled appearance in the front camera, phone scrolling some more, swiping away & ignoring a text I’ve just received in a group chat from a dear friend who tracks my location. Diana! Are you in town?
A few hours later & it’s time to slide my body out from under the handrails, groggy & all out of sorts. Good morning, World. I respond to my friend that no, I’ve just had a layover, and hope that no one’s caught onto how long I’ve truly been camped out here, being avoidant & strange. I slide my oversized backpack onto my back, making my way over to the bathroom where I splash tepid sink water on my face and make a feeble attempt at draining my lymph nodes with my knuckles. I brush my teeth & brush my hair & pop in my contacts, feeling self conscious at the act of grooming myself in this public space, as people drift in and out of the bathroom stalls.
I take the bus to the train station where Max is waiting for me, and together we walk over to my new apartment. Relief washes over me at the sight of him. He offers to carry my bag and I say No out of stubbornness, hitching it up on my shoulder. We make it to *******’s building where we struggle to unlock the apartment door for much too long. Finally inside, we discover that the door was jammed shut because my new roommate- *******’s puppy Jack, got into the drywall, littering the floor of the studio in a million paint flecks & dusty paw prints. Jack is panting laboriously & the two of us are staring at each other cautiously.
I feel a tad bit anxious but overall excitement is pushing my anxiety to the back burner. Anxious about taking care of Jack the puppy, (a senior dog who’s so puppy), Anxious about house swapping, about ******* staying in my Brooklyn apartment for the month. During my backpacking trip in April, I met an old man in California who offered to let me crash in his mid-city studio, but then that fell through, and when retelling the story to *******, he proposed the idea of: Well, what if you stayed in my studio this summer instead? The two of us could apartment swap, if you’d like. He’s a tattoo artist who wants to guest in New York and I’m an angel who wants to write in Los Angeles & the solution he offered just panned out seamlessly.
I agreed to the idea but then a few days later, once realization set in that this is a confirmed plan, and that there’s no backing out, that we’re really doing this, swapping homes, God I felt so sick to my stomach.
It is too late to back out, we’ve booked our flights, made arrangements, he has my word, and I can’t go back on that! It was a great idea in the moment but then my backpacking trip ended & my Real Life resumed. I returned home to New York, I started going on those crazy dates with Crazy Noah & working at this new job with New Friend and I just felt so ill at the thought of leaving again, so soon, creating more unfinished business & loose ends & half-baked stories.
Well, I am doing it. Sticking to my word. After all, I am quite literally typing this out sitting at his desk, in his Los Angeles home. What’s done is done. I remind myself that this is my Real Life, this present moment. My life does not pause & resume- it is this moment, here right now. I’m in my temporary new home with my temporary new roommate, his puppy who’s panting at me with large silky eyes, chin resting on my thigh.
I unpack my bags & strip out of my clothes, turning on the shower, letting steam fill the bathroom and fog up the mirrors. I stand under the shower head for a ridiculous length of time, letting the water pelt down onto my skin. Want to scrub my brain of its Freak Thoughts but I settle for scrubbing sweat & airport air off my skin instead.
Thinking about ******* staying in my apartment for the month. Sleeping in MY Girl Cave. Being around my things. My private things. My vulnerable things. My Freak Chick Things. Oh God I did a bad job at hiding my Freak Chick Things, didn’t I?Preemptively embarrassed of the embarrassing things someone could uncover in the vulnerabilities of my room- socks with holes in em & discharge-bleach stained underwear & expired condoms & oh god the diaries & love notes & stray hairs & Oh My God I fucked up.
This worry never once crossed my mind when Jude subleased my room in April, ‘cause they’re already my dear friend. Embarrassment was all but null there. They’ve seen me at my most embarrassing, they’ve seen me at my most Me. But *******, who I do not know very well, who is essentially a friend of a friend, picturing this arrangement panning out makes my cheeks redden & my throat tighten...
Jude & I called and caught up once I landed in the City of Angels. I was repeating this thought process to them, my horror that’s just now set in, the realization of a virtual stranger in my precious Girl Cave! Jude couldn't understand why I was so horrified, why it’s just now clicked, as the deed has already been done. You didn’t freak out about me staying in your room! They said. Yes, but you’re you! I don’t know the guy! I kinda know the guy. We met five years ago when he was crashing at my apartment, visiting Boy Roommates one summer. I don’t remember meeting him. Then we re-met last summer. And nowwwww. Now we have this… arrangement.
I feel anxious about being around his things, about wanting to look through his things like a perv ass chick. I am not going to look through his things like a perv ass chick, but they’re taunting me. I’m curious! Staring at the books neatly stacked on his desk. 1984 by George Orwell. No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy. Tinkers by Paul Harding. Bunch of art books. Books on rock-climbing. Books on tattoo-ing. Boy books. I want to get over my fears because I think that it could be nice to proposition the idea of this being a reoccurring thing. Like, what if we did this every summer? Swapping homes…
I was grossly underprepared to leave New York. I picked up a random morning shift at work day of my flight, ‘cause it seemed like a great idea in the moment. My coworkers were in total disbelief when I walked through the front doors.
What the hell are you doing here? Don’t you leave for LA today?
Yeah but like, not for another few hours. I answered, with a shrug.
My type-b vibe. I hadn’t yet packed or finished began preparing my room, but I hadn’t yet started to worry about either of these factors. Well my coworkers instilled a twinge of worry in me and I realized Oh wait, I probably should’ve packed & prepared my room by now. My flight is in a few hours. Ruby had also left my apartment for work that morning, but Amelie was still sound asleep, curled up in my bed, so I texted her with an SOS and when she woke up she did my laundry & cleared the sink of our dishes & organized my room for *******’s arrival. (Yes I am So Otherworldly Blessed with Friendship). A friend who will fold and put away your period panties & discharge bleached underwear & socks with holes in ‘em! Thank you World for granting me such a luxury!
I’m out at a bar with Ella & our friend Alice when I get kinda freaked out. Alice complimented the silver flats strapped to my feet, Those are so cute! And I said, Thanks! My best friend Ruby got ‘em for me. She responded, I know! And then I paused and she paused and we stared at each other all doe-eyed for a second. Sorry, that was parasocial of me. She continued. Oh fuck me, I think to myself. This is private! This shit I’m publicly posting on a public internet blog/vlog! Um, privacy please everyone!
It is unfair & unrealistic of me to think this way & yet I think this way and get all freaked out when I know that someone knows even the most innocuous things about me, things that I willingly plop onto the internet. We giggled but the reality of what this meant crept up my chest. What else does she know about? Redacted? Redacted? Wait God, what about Redacted? I avoid eye contact with Ella, my cheeks burning red. No one knows anything about anything, I repeat on a loop in my head. There aren’t consequences to my actions ‘cause this is all Fiction. I should probably stop calling people evil hags. But it’s so fun to call people evil hags. Ugh.
Max joins us later in the evening and Alice saves me from total embarrassment. The conversation drifted towards redacted and Max goes, Diana, you’re definitely not gonna see him while you’re here, don’t worry! I paused at this…because…well, okay. Alice saw the hurt in my eyes, what that sentence meant, and she interjected, switching the topic instantly. She lifted her wrist, pointing at a fresh tattoo that ******* did for her. Guys! Look at my new tattoo! What do ya think?
I balked at her with gratitude and swallowed that pathetic feeling swirling in my chest.
I feel stupid now for not bringing the pens that Amelie so sweetly bought for me. She bought me a pack of pens & travel supplies & I stuffed half the loot under my bed thinking So sweet, but this would add too much weight to my backpack. I’ll just save em for when I’m back home. Well I packed three pens, two are ink-less & one is lost so now I am freshly here, pen-less & feeling stupid, thinking about the full pack collecting dust under my bed. I figured ******* would have a billion lying around ‘cause of the whole being a tattoo artist thing. But nope, he’s got a billion pencils & paint brushes & sharpies, but not a single ballpoint pen! I wonder if he’s ran into the same issue at my apartment. I don’t keep pencils, but I’ve got a billion pens & highlighters & roller balls.
Jack the puppy is panting at me to please be let out. Have been letting him out 3x as often as necessary, because I feel guilty when I look at his sweet glossy eyes & labored breaths. I also have been giving him an extra half scoop of kibble ‘cause… ugh those eyes! His salt and pepper fur… his angelic vibe… I was a bit scared of Jack until I realized he just has a pure angelic vibe… he’s baby… my baby… Okay, fine! Jack the puppy, another w-a-l-k it is!
Jack the puppy wakes me up at 6 am sharp to be let out, hopping out of bed, and whining at the front door. I groaned in agony the first 48 hours of this but now I’ve turned over a new leaf. The abrupt awakening forces me to get started with my day. Forces me to brew a pot of coffee & open the curtains & make the bed & brush my teeth & brush em again ‘cause it never feels quite right the first time. I rub the sleep from my eyes & slip on my ballet flats, throwing *******’s jacket on over my nightgown. I secure Jack’s collar onto his neck & we migrate outside to a picture-perfect morning. Clear blue skies & a slight breeze & a gorgeous view of the Griffith Observatory. Hello sunny Los Angeles. We went on our walk and an old man calls out to me, That’s a beautiful dog you have there miss!
Thank you! I respond, nudging Jacks collar to get a move on it! Jack won’t budge, frozen in his spot.
You have beautiful hair too..and that dress… wow….
I nudge Jack again & he starts pissing on his paws, on the cement. Jack, c’mon! We walk down the block & he’s pissing in a grassy patch when an old lady begins to chastise me, NO DOG PEE HERE NO DOG PEE HERE DOG CANNOT PEEPEE HERE.
Oh jeez. Okay alright, we’re going, we’re going, c’mon Jack! So Jack pisses in her grass, & I’m trying to tug him away but it’s too late- he’s already in the height of speckling showering her flower beds in a seemingly endless stream of urine and I make a mental note, okay let’s walk in the other direction next time. We walk by Max & Ella’s & redacted’s apartments, walking up Hollywood through Sunset, until Jack starts slowing down, and it’s time to retreat home sweet, temporary home.
Thins I want while I am here in my temporary Los Angeles home
A manicure (preferably acrylics) (preferably short almond, with black polish)
chapstick (forgot mine. Ugh. Remembered to bring: a billion lipliners & a billion glosses & a billion lipsticks but not a singular tube of chapstick!
A fun haircut, not of my own doing. Like, I wanna go to a salon and get something perfect. Maybe a shag-esq situation. Maybe long layers. Maybe a bob. TBD.
A new digi cam. (mine is all fucked up, so I left it at home to collect dust)
To go on a lot of hikes
To have a lot of early mornings, a lot of long walks
To acquire the most perfect wardrobe pieces
To go to the party at ****’s house tonight.
To befriend ****
To be perceived as beautiful
To be perceived as the type of person who is more often than not in very fine spirits
To be beautiful. To be the type of person who is more often than not in very fine spirits.
To bake a tray of sweet potato brownies
To develop a deep kinship with Jack the puppy
To seeredactedTo be a social butterfly, a free bird
To feel sure of myself and my decisions
To make good decisions
Yes so good
you just have the best way of writing about the daily things and making it feel so special and interesting.