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It was an Indian summer day in late September. Tegan and I were done with classes and
we were putzing around SoHo people watching. We often didn’t say much. We just were.
It was an unspoken understanding between us. Each of us had spent most of our pennies getting ourselves
into school and paying rent – gathering enough money to escape but having no
money to do anything once we got there.
We hadn’t many other luxuries.
I shared Ramen with him when my friends would send them from home. Otherwise, we didn’t eat much except
the one baguette we would buy ourselves a week and slowly pick at to fill the
ache - and I lived off of the cartons of cigarettes sent. Camel straight, no filters. 3 packs a day. When you can’t eat, you fill yourself
with something, so that it was.
I was leaning against a brick wall beside a café, exhaling a
cigarette when a scrawny redheaded kid came up and said, “Are you
American?” I looked around. Was he really talking to me? I hadn’t been speaking so it couldn’t
have been my accent that gave anything away. I was sort of a Goth loving hippy and from what I knew of I melded
into most environments and I sure of shit wasn’t toting an American flag in my
pocket so I was mildly taken aback and more so annoyed. This was my home and I had believed I
fit in like a camelion.
“Yah.” I responded bluntly while staring aimlessly away from
him. “Cool…you live here? I’m Dave.” “Yah.” I turned to look him in the eye. Sizing him up. He looked decent enough. Kind eyes, big smile. A tad dirty. He wasn’t lost like Tegan and I. He was traveling.
There was a difference.
“I’m Willow.” I extended
moving my cigarette to my left hand and handing him my right. “Sorry to
interrupt – I just got here and I’m trying to connect with people. I’m camping outside of the city. Traveling for a year or so. London is my first stop. Heard you asking your friend for a
light so grabbed on to the assumption that you were American.” Oh. Ok. I felt
better now…there’s a chance I was blending.
We talked for a bit about the fact that he had just arrived
from California and was planning to camp his way around Europe and that we had
a pretty large house with plenty of space so if he needed a place to crash, or
to shower, he was more than welcome.
We had quickly learned the art of sharing space. When you have a backpack, it’s like a
community. You share beds, floors,
food, and stories. You randomly
knock on doors in the middle of the night of an address given to you in a
drunken moment in a hostel and they actually take you in. And so, I gave Dave our phone number,
completely comfortable that at one point or another he might show up on our
doorstep asking for a couch or a crumb.
Tegan and I parted ways with our new friend and headed
home.
The next day was tough. The girls were going to Amsterdam and planning to smuggle
some goodies back via tampons and the boys were heading up to Scotland. Tegan and I didn’t have any money to go
away for a long weekend of debauchery so we waved goodbye to our friends and
settled into our usual night of bong hits, stories of his life working in the
butter factory and my dreams of writing the great American novel, when the
phone rang.
“Ughhh….” I grunted walking up the two floors to the dining
room where our one house phone existed.
“Hello.” “Hi, can I speak
with Willow please?” “Speaking.”
“Hey – it’s Dave, we met yesterday in SoHo. Dirty camper guy…” I could actually hear his ease and smile
from the other end of the phone.
“Hey man, what’s up?” “I was
just calling to see what you and your roommates were doing tonight? I met some cool dudes today that are
playing in a pub tonight. Was
wondering if you wanted to come?” Ugh,
I thought to myself. This guy
totally wants to get in my pants and he’s so not my type. But I was bored as shit and well,
what could it hurt?
“Mmmmm….hmmm….ok. Sounds
cool. Where should we meet
you?” “Victoria Station. Upstairs, outside, I’ll find you. 8:00?” Ughhhh….misery…god I pray he doesn’t try to touch me. “Cool man, we’ll see you there.”
Emphasizing the ‘we’ using Tegan as my imaginary boyfriend decoy just in case.
“Teeeeg. Get
off your ass and shower. We’re
going out. I HAVE PLANS. ME! PLANS! Up up,
shower shower.” Blank eyes stare
back at me. I know this look. “T. I’m not going anywhere. I’m good here.
I can’t even afford a pint.”
“Dude, I’ll buy you a pint, a got some cash in the mail today. You can’t leave me with the redhead to
myself. I can’t bear rejecting
him. But we need to get out. C’mon!!” “Nope.” I’ll be
here when you get home but I’m not going.”
“Shit.” I respond as I storm up the stairs to try to find
some non-flannel, emo, hippy ensemble suitable for a night of doing something
more.
“Do I look ok?” I grumble as Tegan lay on my bed watching me
get ready. “You look like that
chic from Popeye. What’s her
name?” “Uhm…Olive Oil or something…”
“Yah. Her. You look like her.” “She’s ugly. Thanks.” “No man, I meant long and like thin and shit. You look cool.” “I hate you. Have another hit – it makes you incredibly literate,
asshole.” I bend down to kiss him
on the cheek. “You sure you won’t
come?” He doesn’t respond. “Fine, you better be awake for the
recap when I get back. Love you
butter boy. Later.” And there I went out. My first big night in the city all on
my lonesome.
Dave was there, at the top of the stairs, smiling his
innocent, life is good smile. We walked a few blocks chatting about
life as a roaming 20-something year old.
We were all in some way trying to live out our own version of Dharma
Bums and could all on some level relate.
Eventually we ended up in front of the Princess Royal
Pub. “Here we are. I think…” Dave muttered. “Sweet” was my retort. We ordered pints – and sat down and
suddenly I became overwhelmed with the need to set things straight. And so I went on a rant. “Hey man, it’s great to meat you and
it’s cool to have new friends but I have to just put this out there that if you
think this is a ‘date’ it’s not a ‘date’ and there isn’t a chance in Hell that
we’d ever hook up. OK? I have no interest and I just didn’t
want you to get the wrong idea.
Sorry. Just needed to make
sure we were clear.”
Silence.
Dave erupts in laughter. I shift uncomfortably.
What the fuck is so funny?
“Dude, I appreciate your honesty but I have no interest in
you either. My girlfriend is
meeting me here next week and we’re doing this trip together. I was just trying to make some friends
while I was hanging out here until we started the trip.”
“Oh.”
His mocking smile was annoying as shit but I couldn’t help
but laugh as well. I mean
seriously – I just assumed he wanted me.
But I had barely said two words to him – why would he? Eventually when I got over the weird
ego bruise of the guy I totally wasn’t interested in not being interested in
me, we began to have a blast together.
Turned out we had loads in common and I felt as if I had met one of the
good people. Those that are who
they represent themselves to be.
Say what they mean. Mean
what they say, all that jazz.
Eventually we got more rowdy, got locals involved, started
doing shots, laughing with folks, playing music on the jukebox and toasting to random
encounters in SoHo. Out of nowhere and in the midst of laughing I turned my
head. The door to the pub
opened. It was as simple as
that. A door opening.
All feeling left my being. Light and energy shifted and moved and jolted between me and
the doorway of the pub. In the
silence of a second my hand fell loose and the pint in my hand crashed to bits
on the floor. My stare never
waivered. A part of myself was
walking through the door and the other part of me was standing still while
glass shattered all around me. It
was nothing about him. Not his
piercing blue eyes and raven black hair.
It had nothing to do with the fact that he looked as if he didn’t belong
among us – in truth; I never saw any of that. All that I saw was a blinding light of a link to a soul that
had been a part of my story for lifetimes and here, in this life I had waited
20 years to find him and now I had.
In London. He was standing
across the room from me and for all that I didn’t know about whom he was or why
I was finding him now, I had missed him so much.
“Dude, you ok?
What the Hell man, you trashed?” Dave mumbled in a drunken stupor. My head heavy and lost but snapping
back to reality…“That’s my soul mate” the only words I could mumble as I stared
straight ahead – at him. “Who…?”
Dave’s voice trailed off while following my stare. “No shit.” He
let out a laugh. “That’s
Josiah. That’s the dude that I met
today busking in the street. And
the other guy – Noah. The guy
behind him. That’s them. That’s why we are here. Ha.”
Indeed. That is
why I was there. Finally. My reason found me.
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