Bixenman

1

Dear Jacob Taylor Bixenman,

I met you at the bus stop on Melrose the week before the end of July. I sat on the bench with one knee up listening to demos from Bloom. A motorcycle pulled up on the curb. I jumped causing my phone to leave my lap and land face down on the cement. Your hand reached down to hand me my phone, before I could comprehend what had happened. "It's not cracked". Those were the first words you said to me. It sounds so stupid that I remembered, I know.

We hopped on the 507 bus toward the beach. I didn't even bother to ask where you were originally going. We walked on the pier and talked endlessly about how we both wanted to die. Ironic. I think you were just playing along. At that moment, though, I did not want to die. You made me not want to die.

We sat in the sand so that every time the tide would come in it would barely graze our feet while we watched the sunset. Everything in the middle is a blur but somehow my head drifted to rest on your shoulder. The cold ocean hit my feet, and woke me up from my daydream. At the same time that I wanted to go back to the comfort of my own home, I also wanted to stay here with you forever. You suggested that we go into the ocean. I didn't have any other clothes and I had to take the bus home, but I said yes. Not even a mere second after I agree you grabbed my hand so gently and pulled me into the freezing cold pacific ocean. You sawm until your shoulders were engulfed in the water and convinced me to do the same. Your feet stood on the ocean floor while obviously I was struggling, being that I was 5 or 6 inches shorter than you. You reached your hand out to me. But instead of taking your hand, I swam to you and hugged your fully clothed body underneath the water. It took you a second before you brought me closer to you in that same embrace. After another minute of melting in your arms, you asked if I wanted to go over to your place. I assumed that it was for sex. It wasn't. I was kind of disappointed but it made me fall for you even more. We shivered our way out of the night waters. You never let go of my hand.

I didn't remember quite how we got home. I think I fell asleep in your arms. But I woke up on your couch with my head on your lap, still soaking wet from the ocean. You locked eyes with me as I slowly drew open my eyes. You got me a Moncler jumper out of your closet and a pair of black shorts to change into. Everything was too big but it was comfy. After you get changed, you sat next to me on your couch. I moved my body closer and you hugged me like you had known me forever. We fell asleep in eachothers arms. I woke up the next morning underneath an orange blanket on your couch. You weren't there. I assumed you had left me, a near stranger, in your house alone. I'm not sure why I thought so. You emerged from your kitchen with 2 plates of pancakes. You apologized for leaving me alone. I replied nothing. Loneliness was something I had grown used to. We ate breakfast while watching Wendy Williams and sat as close as we could to one another.

I left your house that day happy, which is something that I haven't felt in almost 10 years. You, Jacob Taylor, made me happy. You destroyed my demons that were constantly lurking in my head. We talked everyday on the phone after that day. I loved talking to you. You drew me further and further away from my head. And for that I thank you.