*Andy was a Lyft driver. That's how we met. We were friends. He passed away in January 2020. I think of him often. He was incredibly kind. I miss knowing he's in the world.
July 7, 2018 Journal Entry
I texted Andy, the Lyft driver. I met him probably more than a year ago. Actually, it was shortly after I got out of the hospital, so perhaps last July or August. It was a warm day. I can’t remember where he picked me up, but we came across the bridge from Indiana. We swapped stories. He was going through a difficult divorce. Had lost his business. Was raising his son on his own. I, of course, just out of the nuthouse.
I told him about the novel, said I’d send him some excerpts. He jotted down his email address. I emailed him a couple of times, didn’t hear back, let it go. Several months later, I emailed him again. For some reason he got that email, but hadn’t gotten the earlier ones.
We got together, had a cheeseburger. He went out and drove some more, then came back and spent some time with me. I don’t remember much. I wasn’t drunk, that was before I started drinking again. We fooled around some, didn’t have sex. I don’t remember why we didn’t have sex. I’ll have to ask him what I said. He didn’t spend the night. He left after an hour or so. Again, I don’t remember why. Oh, maybe because he had kids at home.
We continued to text, kept in touch. A few months ago, I asked him to take me to the drugstore. He did, and to the grocery store. I cried the entire time I was in the car with him. Could not stop crying. Could not stop. It was horrible. I apologized over and over and over. He kept telling me it was OK, that everything would be OK. What a lovely man.
A couple weeks after that trip to the pharmacy, when I finally went through with the brain scan, he showed up when I called Lyft. I was beside myself sobbing when I got in the car, could not even speak. It took me a minute to even realize I knew him. I rescheduled that brain scan at least five times. I was terrified to go alone. I really don’t know why. I just focused every bit of fear I had about what was wrong with my brain on that scan.
And then this morning, I texted him just to say hi. And to tell him I wasn’t crying today. He asked me to send him my nasty pics. He said there’d been nothing since we’d fooled around. No sex. “Let’s have sex!” I texted back. We made tentative plans to get together this afternoon.
It’s after 10 pm now. I haven’t heard back from him. Just as well. I’m in no position to make sex decisions. I’m not in a good mental place to even have sex right now. Sometimes, fleeting moments, the idea sounds like a good one. But it’s not. Not right now.
Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash