I returned from work bursting with expectations held tightly coiled in the tape of a video cassette. Toast and a glass of apple juice set on the coffee table, it was time. I slipped the tape into the slit of the VCR and sat back to watch the Miami I never knew unfold on my TV screen.
Not even one transsexual ass-whopping in and the call came.
“Are you still looking for a roommate?”
“Yeah, why?”
“The Peace Corp is putting me off until March of next year…”
And I throw my head back and laugh. And laugh. And laugh.
Saying Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, fucking Christ.
Because Jesus, sometimes laughing is the only thing that keeps you from crying when you know if you start you might never stop.
Because sometimes when the worst idea in the world seems like the only thing that could make you happy, you just got to laugh.
And for the past few days I’ve been indefatigable. All smiles and jokes. I sing along to the radio while I work and I don’t care who hears me because yes, yes I do know all the lyrics to Margaritaville and Running On Empty and I don’t care if you know it.
Because when you throw your head back to laugh, relief floods in. And you know what? That’s when you start loving people, everybody.
You forgive them for the war, rape, murder, all the terrible things you’ve been holding a grudge against humanity for doing.
You guys are bastards and I love you for it.
That’s when you stop gripping the side of the building.
That’s when you look up at the sky you’re almost, nearly touching and you smile.
That’s when you step back, off the ledge.
Story after story of nothing, your arms spread out like wings, like the crucifixion.
Just falling.
Do you believe you only get one real chance at happiness?
Nah, neither do I. But Christ, sometimes it feels like it.
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