Intimacy

July 7th, 2009

I went to the park today, to my normal spot. She wasn’t there yet and the old guy selling newspapers on the corner must have been sick because he wasn’t there either. I was more annoyed that I didn’t have anything to occupy my time then the fact she was late – again.

Just underneath our usual meeting spot was one of those big cloth bags that all the girls are carrying around today. It looked like it had been there for a while because it was wet from the rains last night. I wasn’t trying to be nosy – I swear – but the corner of this journal was poking out and I didn’t want it to get bumped out into the puddle.

So I was nosy.

I opened it up and started reading. This wouldn’t even be something worth mentioning in this journal except that whoever wrote this diary is… well, I don’t even know what to say. She – it has to be a female because every i had a little heart – wrote about some extraordinary things. Not that the events were themselves super incredible, but the time frame in which they happened made it unbelievable. She wrote very detailed entries about this guy she is mad for, the death of her grandparents while she was abroad, her parents’ nasty divorce, the stress of becoming the parent figure for her brother, the hurt that this guy caused her – all in six months! Actually, there were so many more details but they got depressing and I don’t need my “think-spot” to be depressing too. What got me was how open and honest she was though. She wasn’t all depressing even though her life is. She, well…actually…

I am stunned by how well I know her. Honestly, I think I could pick her out walking down the street. I actually know more about this mystery girl than I do about my girlfriend.

Guys aren’t supposed to be deep thinkers or anything terribly cerebral. But since I sure as heck am not going to talk about this with the guys and I know my girlfriend won’t want to hear about this… well, so, I’m writing it here.

I feel connected to this girl’s diary and to her. I feel a connection with her and I don’t know what to do with it. I want to help her or something. What do I do with what I now know about her? If I choose to look at her diary does that also mean I have to choose to do something to help her or support her or something? Or because I didn’t know what was in that diary, does that mean I can have a free pass and just walk away? It is just that I feel like I know her now and I would rather be that knight in shining armor, ready to do something to make her smile, then see myself as the coward who walked away because I didn’t know what to do. But what do I do now that I know? I don’t know her name, I just know her soul. I have no idea where she lives but I could probably find the exact spots where she found out she lost her grandfather or where this guy she loves showed up.

So yeah, I don’t know what to do. No clue.


July 9th, 2009

So that girl I was writing about earlier? She died. Creepy, right? I guess last night she had been sitting in the park, on my bench and something happened to her. The police are still investigating, but while I was sitting there, writing here about everything she had written, a police officer approached me. So I went down to the station and told them what I knew – nothing. The police found a Bible in her purse as well and in the Bible was a lot of personal information so they were able to contact her family.

Her name was Catherine “Cat” Roma. I think I am going to stop by her visitation for a minute. It’s tomorrow and I would really like to see the people she wrote about. I think that guy she loved is going to be there. I asked her mom about the guy and her mom said they had notified him. I guess there is an even bigger story there…

July 10th, 2009

The visitation and funeral were really sad. The guy was there. It was his birthday too. Can you imagine having to go to the funeral of the girl you loved on your birthday? I guess her… well, Cat’s diary had a lot of information in it that was new to him. I felt so awkward talking to him but no one else was and you just knew it was him. Cat left no doubt about who he was to her in her diary.

Her parents were also there, together. Apparently that in and of itself was a bit of a miracle. They were both so sad – her dad just stood there in front of the microphone and tried so hard to talk.

In the future I am never going to read another diary again. It is just too depressing and I can read all the depressing news I want about the economy, the job market, Michael Jackson, etc, in the newspapers. My old guy on the corner is back so I’m happy.

July 14th, 2009

We broke up. I’m not sad about it or anything. I just felt like I was dating a stranger. She didn’t tell me enough about herself.