But in the end, it was just a building.
After Pisces, I found a memory on every corner, and I couldn’t not see them. Even places I’d never been to with him were somehow woven into the tapestry of that time. He was so fundamentally written into my story here. Steel and granite reminders mapping out a journey from the before to the after.
I hadn’t expected it, but in a way it was cathartic to be walking through it, because it felt like evidence that I had survived.
I didn’t go anywhere near the pier, and I absolutely didn’t go to West Hollywood. I wasn’t that brave.
Becka had managed to get us tickets to Mania for New Years Eve. We were finally going to try the now infamous Snowball drinks.
It was like we were getting a do over for the things we’d missed.
Stepping inside the club was an immediate and overwhelming blunt force blow to the senses. Music pounded from wall mounted speakers as iridescent bubbles rained down from a ceiling littered with various sizes of disco balls, reflecting shards of multi-hued lights in every direction. The club was living up to it’s name, as this sensory assault was very much the definition of ‘mania’.
I took some live footage to post on my socials; photos and videos of us dancing, getting our Snowballs – absolutely amazing, as it turned out, and worth the two year wait – and of the club. I could probably pass it off as a music related investigation, but really I had just wanted to document the experience, because I felt once again like I was getting a do-over, or at least, reclaiming some of my past.
As I swayed under the pulsating lights to a thrumming beat that vibrated all the way up from the soles of my feet, I considered the idea of… what if?
What if I moved back to LA?
I could.
Frequencywas an international publication, and just because they didn’t have an office in LA didn’t mean I couldn’t be here remotely. Or I could move to another publication, or I could freelance for a while. My Masters degree with HSJ was only a year long. The difference between who I was now, and who I was two years ago was that I had options now. I wasn’t beholden totemporary work contracts, or a specific person. I could do this myself.
I could.
The room seemed to swirl, the music pounded in time to the countdown now being projected on the wall, neon lights in the shape of number.
“FIVE!” We all howled out, counting in unison.
“FOUR!”
“THREE!” Becka grabbed me tightly
“TWO!”
“ONE!”
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
The club seemed to explode. Balloons and streamers burst out from the ceiling, raining down on us in soft, bouncy little hits, catching in our hair, silver confetti sticking to our sweaty skin and lip gloss, but we laughed, and clung to each other, and we jumped despite the pain in our feet.
Auld Lang Synebegan to play. Not a dance remix, not a techno beat to be found. Just the original version that everyone inexplicably knows all of, and none of at the same time.
Becka and I sang along – howled, really – with our arms slung around each others waists, swaying together. I looked over at her and saw that like me, she had tears streaming down her face, falling into the creases of her joyful smile, and I knew she felt as I did. Alive.
We left just before the club closed at 2 am, early enough that taxis lined the pavement outside, and we were able to jump into one straight away. The roads were as busy as any midday in LA could be. Party goers streaming out of bars and clubs. Colourful caricatures of people, bedecked in fancy hats andtrailing balloons. It was like the city was having a birthday party, and everyone was invited.
Looking out, you’d never be able to guess what LA had been through, what the people had endured, and the unrest that had bubbled up out of the cracks of papered over problems.
This was a city so vibrant with life, and culture, and difference, that really, it was no wonder that this was the place where my life had changed in every possible way. This was the city that people came to to do just that. In LA, it felt like everything could and would happen.
I turned to share my drunken epiphany with Becka, but she was asleep. Snoring softly, her face smushed to the window.
Chapter 36
New Years Day was spent huddled under blankets on the new-old sofa, eating the snacks we’d stocked up on the day before, knowing full well we’d struggle to do anything as basic as cook for ourselves.
It was like muscle memory. We were so familiar and comfortable with each other. Living together, even for a little while, came naturally. It didn’t matter that years had passed. We were like the groove on your finger after you’ve worn a ring for so long, even when you took it off, the skin never really reshaped the way it used to. We’d reshaped each other.
