It was only the cusp of summer when Rachel and I agreed, albeit on separate occasions, that splitting apart would be best for the both of us. It was planned that I would finish my work-study position in the library of the university I had only just graduated from with a Bachelors degree I doubted I could do anything with, and then I'd be gone. The little yellow house wasn't by any rights mine, however many times Rachel argued this with me, and so it seemed obvious that it would be me who would be going. Where was still the question. Options opened up from all angles, and though there was a part of me that wanted to flee to the city, perhaps reclaim what I had found there when I was nineteen, I couldn't quite bear the thought of leaving trees behind. Still, I kept Anthony and MJ's offer on the table and mused to myself about what life would be like living with an Italian and a Gypsy, though I think everyone involved knew that it probably wasn't the best environment for me. I was ready to tiptoe into the shallow end of the pool, not dive off a cliff into the ocean. Second on the list was the fact that Brandon and Amanda were looking for a place and might be needing a roommate, but truthfully, I wanted to keep that friendship intact far more than I wanted to room with someone I knew and trusted to be able to pay their share of the rent. Plus, and also the reason I had to politely turn away from the offer from Nick and Rick, being the third wheel around a cute couple moving in with each other to their first place sounded slightly disastrous. I had done the "let's move in together" thing and would be the first to smile and say to both of these couples, "Have fun," with sincerity as well as a little bit of sarcasm. Rachel and I had lived well together, never had to fight about chores or ask the other one to take a turn making dinner, but there's something about being around a significant other all the time that can make the magic of having found each other in the first place a smidgen less appreciated. I didn't really want to be a fly on the wall when they figured out that one.
Then, on with the list of offers for my relocation, there was my mom and sister in South Carolina. As tempting as it was for all the material I'd gain for nonfiction pieces I was determined to finish about each of them one day, I wasn't sure I'd actually be able to get much writing done with the likelihood of screaming, tugging, attention-seeking children and consequentially frustrated adults. My sister was due with her third child the first week of October. That meant that if we were to split up the responsibility, at least two of us needed jobs if the third was willing to take over all household chores, and dividing it up, there was one child for each of us to watch over. As much as I love being an aunt, I'd been spending the entirety of twenty-three convincing myself that it was perfectly acceptable that I was so selfish as to want to only be responsible for myself. Until I got Seth that is, my ever-growing mutt puppy who fancied himself my baby and demanded I hold him as often as possible even though a growing number of people were commenting that he looked a lot like a Great Dane.
I already had my hands full. South Carolina was a soft smile at the what-ifs of the saying "it takes a village to raise a child," but not a practical living arrangement considering where I was in life.
Sheila, my best friend in high school was another passing idea. She had recently moved to Rhode Island and though she hadn't offered and knew nothing of me planning to move, I considered this choice quite heavily before deciding against it due to the third-wheel-rule that I'd successfully used to extinguish all others in the running.
Lastly, other than my escalating curiosity of entering some "New Girl" inspired arrangement with Craigslist strangers, there was Patti. For those who might have voted for Craigslist roomies, know first of all that I hadn't watched any episodes of "New Girl" yet, and secondly, living with Patti had a great comedic potential. Patti is the mother of my ex-fiance and current gay best friend, Nick. This seemed like the least likely of the bunch, if for no other reason than because I was terrified to explain to her the situation, and even more worried that she'd figure it out herself. I wasn't with Nick when he came out to his mom, but I did have lunch with her not long afterward. I had planned to tell her about Rachel and I then, in some comical "So, it seems like I fell in love with someone of the same sex too!" but as I learned from the conversation that commenced instead, Patti preferred not to know about same-sex couples. So, I stayed silent, and though Patti had been "Mom" to me for over six years, our relationship became distant. I hadn't spoken to her - really spoken to her - since Nick and I broke up in September of 2011. Everything since had been small talk, and there's only so many times a person can ask, "how are you?" before you realize you're an excellent liar and find yourself grieving the lack of depth that once was.
.JPG)
The search for a place was paused between June and August when Rachel and I thought we could work it all out. The answer seemed simple, right in front of our noses, and yet the more we discussed alternatives to separation, the more we realized that we, our lives, or the mating of destiny, fate, and consequences for actions made in two Januarys had already decided for us. As things escalated from unbearable to frightening, I texted Patti to find a portal out of the world Rachel and I had existed in. If I didn't leave, neither of us would survive. Patti's response was a "come on over," and full acceptance of everything that had happened since she and I had last spoken. The physical transition was remarkably easy, but emotionally my life had never been so chaotic. How well I was hiding it is another story entirely.
