Obviously sorry

I talked to Eric today.

We had an hour-long phone call in the middle of the day.  

"Yo yo what up," was how I said hi before he laughed.
"You say that in such a tone."

"Missed you too, boo."  

He's same.  So same. 

"She always asks me if she's fat, and she's like, very thin," I could hear the water running as he washed his dishes, slamming down the forks and spoons on the counter as is his custom.  "Is that what a relationship is?"

Shrugs, son.  I never had a boyfriend ask me if he was fat.

"Is it fun?"  I kept picturing his oddly small socked feet up on the coffee table.

"Sometimes."

He paused for a while.  His voice got quieter and clearer at the same time, "You gotta understand this about me . . . I spiral. I go into this deep hole and can't get out."  This is not bullshit.  I remember all too vividly.

I changed the subject to the one thing that's always fun for him.

"Tell me about the latest tattoos."

Immediately there was a light in his voice.  The E! Channel logo.  The Truth anti-smoking campaign logo.  Elizabeth's friend did a skull on his arm.  Fresh as can be, you know.

I told him about James's idea to get the word Excalibur right above his pubic bone.  "Yo I don't know if I wanna meet this dude," and I laughed at the idea that he would ever meet anyone I know now.

"Watch Beautiful Boy and get back to me." 

 Shake boo. Talk soon. 

If I had grown up in Pennsylvania.  If I had been born a dude.  If I had felt as inexplicably lonely and needed to tell everyone I knew about it.  We'd be the same person.  

There was that night last summer we had to stay out of the house to avoid getting yelled at.  We sat on the hood of a neighbor's truck and shared a coke.  

"Is he ok with this?" he meant us leaving him in the bathroom to throw a fit.  Maybe there was something else he meant, too.  I grabbed one of his cigarettes and pretend smoked it.

"Nah."  

We lay on the windshield listening to the buzz of the power lines and talked about River's Edge until it was safe to go back.