The weather is very springlike. As I walked to work today, following my random, right-angled, zig-zag path among the apartment highrises and playgrounds and plazas and shopping streets of my neighborhood, Natalie Imbruglia's cover of "Torn" shuffled onto my MP3 player. I hadn't heard that in a while. It was popular on the radio in the summer of 1998, and so it sort of gave me a flashback to a very bad period.
I think it was what was playing on the radio as I drove away from the apartment in Lansdale that Michelle, Jeffrey and I shared, that August. That was the last time I saw Michelle. We'd argued all weekend. On Sunday afternoon, I vividly recall Michelle and I sat down and agreed we would be separating. I think she used the word "trial separation," but all I said was "we need to be apart."
But that night, I was angry, frustrated, depressed, restless. And after she'd left for work the next morning, and Jeffrey had gone to school, I made a snap decision. It was a cruel, selfish decision, but I felt trapped and helpless, and my reaction so often in such situations is to simply run away. So I packed a few things into a bag, got into the car, and began to drive.
And this song "Torn" was on the radio as I got onto the Northeast Extension of the Pennsylvania Turnpike and headed toward King of Prussia. I had no plan whatsoever, except I wanted to go away.
By sunset, I was in northern Virginia, and the sun rose over Memphis the next morning. Two days later I was in Mexicali, a week after that, I was at my dad's in Los Angeles. By the middle of September I was in Craig, Alaska. That was a bad move, in retrospect. But… I'd escaped. Such as escaping is.
And now, when I hear that song, it's a very difficult thing to remember. Michelle is gone. Jeffrey's an adult, independent, functional. The damage – so much damage, I'm sure – is long done.
…I'm already torn…
What I'm listening to right now.
[youtube embed added 2011 as part of background noise. The video is dumb. But I like the song.]