Today I met him, for the last time to bring him his things and to get mine from him. He told me I looked different.
We talked for about 40 minutes. Some of it was heavy, some of it was not. We cried, but we laughed too. Sometimes both together. When things were winding down and we both knew we should go but neither of us wanted to leave, I asked him about the song he named after me.
He wrote it on a summer day when I was being a weirdo. I had an episode and shut down. To escape I went to take a shower and rather than getting frustrated with me he sat down at the piano and wrote the song.
He said he named it after me because it described who I was. Soft in some places, heavy in others. Light and airy and fun and sweet but in a key that gave the whole thing a melancholy suggestion. A quiet sort of abrasiveness.
Standing on the street corner today, I asked him how it went and he smiled and hummed it and I cried while strangers looked at us funny. When it was over I kissed him. He held on to me and I smiled even though I couldn’t stop crying and he pushed my new bangs away from my forehead and wiped some tears away.
"Now you look like how I remember you."
I laughed, ”A mess.”
"A hot mess." he said and both of us were smiling.
"That’s me." I said.
He raised his eyebrows, “A hooooooot mess.” and kissed me on the forehead.
We hugged for a really long time and then he pulled away for real. He looked at me like someone in love and said, “Take care.”
Then we walked away in separate directions, and I guess we’re strangers now.