Farewell Transmission

              I just watched Stephanie drive away after dropping me off at my house. She’d come over for dinner, a rare visit. I’d made this wonderful Tunisian soup the day before and it was even better today. As she was leaving, I asked If she’d mind driving me to the store so I could get some cigarettes. And wine. She probably suspected the wine, but she didn’t say anything. Stephanie was the one who got away that I was forever trying to replace in some other way. I never realized that until a couple years ago when I wrote her a letter for her Birthday.

              I met Stephanie through AA friends in the early 90’s. I had a crush on her pretty much right away. Not to take anything away from her because she was a beautiful young Jewish girl, and are there any hotter young girls? But I developed crushes quickly. Stephanie was smart and witty and confident, maybe in that way we’re only confident on the outside, I remember taking to her on the phone for hours one night and asking her all sorts of questions about music and who she liked. At one point she just stopped talking and said, “wait! Are you quizzing me about my taste in music? Is this something I might fail?” I was struck dumb because in that instance I realized I was. Thank God she passed the quiz.

              Stephanie and I never really dated, and I love her husband Tim so I don’t want to be too graphic but there’s only so much I can hold back. Somehow, we found each other in our friend Jonathon’s bed on some night as she was housesitting for him. And, come one. Who really needs a house sitter? Anyway, we were lying on the bed just slowly talking and I felt my hands tentively move a little upwards upon her legs. Starting at her angles and taken what seemed like hours to get to her thighs. I was so in touch with her breathing. It told me everything. I moved slowly up to the material covering her. I waited for a reaction. Deep breathing. I reached up and pulled her panties down and tasted her. I had her in me. We never said another word. I just did what I did until she finished, and I rolled up to hug her and we went to sleep. That’s my memory. Her’s may be wildly different but one fact remains. I made her cum with my mouth, I hugged and kissed her and we fell asleep.

              The next morning, we found ourselves naked on Jonathon’s couch with me kissing her and trying so hard to take things farther. She was stalwart. She was no easy prey. That confidence I spoke of. We kissed and I came while kissing her. And then the couch collapsed. We’d broken it. Historically and forever a fucked couch from our first coupling.

              Stephanie was too smart to fall into traps. She was wild and open, but she set the rules. Our sex for the first period involved no intercourse. Imagine what you will. She asked me once if my roommate could hear us. “Who knows” Jesus. He’s probably too high to even understand,”

God, she was so incredibly sexy to me. I have to admit a thing for Jewish girls. In fact, I have to say that as a kid I always wished I was part of some big loud Jewish family. I loved all things Jewish, I kinda still do. The fact is that she still is. She’s a million little sparkles wrapped in a candy bar foil waiting to spring out and hand you a golden ticket to her heart.

              Eventually we had sex. And when I pushed in she sighed as if some tragic or magic moment had just occurred. We were in my fucked up bed in my junkie apartment in Echo Park. But I remember every millisecond of it. The feel. The look in her eyes. The distance of my mouth from hers and the rate of her breathing. I loved this fucking Jewish girl.

              It never got any better than that. I was strung out and about to sign a record deal. The label, Interscope, put me through rehab before I even signed. Miracles of miracles. When it was over, I just moved in with her. It was way too soon and all out of sync. We’d never even been on a date. We lived together and had great sex and great talks but I quickly became just another problem to someone who loved me, testing her. Almost teasing her with how low I could go. She reminded me tonight that I showed her the tracks on my arm with a nervous, guilty smile on my face as if I knew she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. As if this was some well-kept secret I’d managed to hide from her. This is her memory. I have none.

              At one point she was taking a photography class and wanted to document me shooting up. I was fine with it. God prevailed though and it didn’t happen. No one needs to see more of that ugly inanity.

              The truth is that I truly loved Stephanie with all my heart, but I never felt even remotely good enough for her. So, I’d wear my addiction on my sleave so to speak to try and scare here away. She was too smart. Too mature. Knew too much about love and was willing to go much farther in than I was. I was still, and maybe I still am in, my love is the payoff right before heartbreak phase. Stephanie truly got jammed up with a charming shitbird junkie.

We lived in a really nice apartment. “Handcock Park adjacent” she loved to say. She also loved to say it was a “tony” neighborhood. We had a roommate. The girlfriend of Tom of Myspace. What a weird fucking time. I went off to make our record and I told her I didn’t want to be sober. I wanted to be a “real” rockstar. Christ, how fucking clueless are we when we’re young? She visited Boston where we were recording and we filmed ourselves having sex one night.  It didn’t turn out so great. I mean, she looked great. I looked like something from where the Wild Things Grow.

              We lasted a few more months after that. She begged me to come to couples therapy with her therapist. She didn’t need to beg; I was all for it. I think she felt she had an ally. But the therapist took my side and I’ll never forget the look of pain when that 50minutes ended. I would have done anything for her. Anything but change the immature asshole junkie I’d become. But she didn’t ask me to take her back so we just drifted away  in different hot Valley directions..

 I had to break up with her multiple times over the next few weeks. She’d call and ask why we were breaking up and I’d have to go through it all over again. And It sounds like she was the weak one but she wwasn’t. I just felt like I was some sort of poison to her. One night she called while I was watching the Dodgers game. I turned the sound off but get the picture on. It was the inning Fernando Tatis hit two grand slams in one inning. Did I really just se what I think I did as I cried on the phone with her for an hour?

              Look, all I know is that Stephanie was the one I truly fucked everything up with. If only I wasn’t so young, afraid and full of self-loathing.

              I saw her tonight and I just fell in love with her all over again. I don’t think she realizes why we see each other so rarely. It’s because I just love her like she can’t imagine can still exist after 40 years. I told her tonight that she looks exactly the same to me as when I first saw her. She found that somewhat preposterous but it’s true. But I really  do. I love seeing her here. I love it so much. But it hurts. She’s the one I let go with youth, pride and just being a stupid boy. What I wouldn’t give to have her back. I’ve probably written that in this fucking book multiple times about multiple girls and maybe I’d be happy if just one of them would take me back. But in the big lottery in the sky my winning scratcher would reveal “Stephanie” under my dirty fingernail.

              I think this is just an introduction to Stephanie. I think there’s so much more to write but I can’t do it anymore right now. It kind of hurts too much. See ya later.