Nothing puts me in a more vulnerable place than walking Hugo late at night, alone, in our neighborhood. We were out last night and even though it’s basically July, someone must have been burning a bunch of stuff because it smelled like your favorite smell. It smelled like fall. Granted, the nip at the nose from brisk air was missing, but it wasn’t humid, either.
I was listening to the playlist Jane shared with me. Yes, that Jane (didn’t see that one coming, did you, babe?). It’s almost too on-point, the playlist. There’s a good amount of Bo Burnham, which reminds me of when we watched Inside when we were in Oregon.
So, Hugo and I were walking at 10:30 pm and I’m randomly letting out a sob or two as we go, and there are people walking around acting weird and it’s freaking me out. That’s generally when I start holding my mace at the ready in my free hand and take out my one earbud. That vibe never changed, but we also took the route you and I took when we did that late-night walk with Hugo a few months ago, where we admired those people’s garden. I see us passing by it, that night, every time Hugo and I go that way. I see you all over the fucking place, babe.
I got Hugo some more no-hide bones and he is doing the thing, again, where he gives me the bone when I get home, and then stands there. So sometimes I’ll give it back to him like we used to, and then we just sit there, handing the bone over to each other. But sometimes, I do the fake eating thing you used to do before giving it back. IDK if Hugo appreciates it like I do, but I want to make sure you stay included in our ritual.
I’ve started thinking about the walks you went on with Hugo, the day you jumped. You walked him three times…did you say anything to him? Was Hugo privy to your plans? Did you open up to him like you could to no one else? If I teach him how to do that stupid button conditioning that’s trending on tiktok so he can “talk” could he tell me what you said? Or did you guys just walk in silence? I picture you sitting outside of Tregaron sitting in a swing on the playground, hunched over, contemplating life with him. Having all this information about where you went and what you did before you left is torture, but I wouldn’t give it up now that I know it. That’s the beauty about ignorance, you don’t know what your missing. “Ignorance is bliss” wouldn’t work, otherwise.
If I never compartmentalize you, if I never stow you away in a box in my mind, even years down the line, will I push everyone I know away? I know it’s uncomfortable, but if I can talk about you the way I do, I don’t see any valid reason why other people can’t humor me and keep space for you. They are so afraid of discomfort. Life is uncomfortable, though. And that’s putting it lightly.