I wrote this over the weekend and forgot to hit publish. You’re welcome.
A few weeks ago, tired of the New York winter, I texted Tom to see if he was around for a visit.
“Any weekend!” he said, delighted. “It’s dry and 80 here!”
I picked the weekend based solely on cost of flight. ($288 round trip, be still my heart!) Then last week, the news began circulating that California was due for some rain right around the time I was set to show up.
“Don’t worry!” reassured everyone. “The forecast is always wrong!”
The forecast this time, my friends, was correct. Great for the drought, bad for me, but I’ll take one for the team.
Knowing we were about to get rained on for almost my entire stay, Tom and I began half-jokingly talking about driving to the desert for a day just to get warm, before the storm hit. I took an early flight out of JFK Thursday morning and when I arrived, 11:15 AM LA time, Tom was waiting for me at the airport.
“Here’s some veggie sushi, a juice and a scone. Also we are driving to Palm Springs now.”
And we did. Driving straight from the airport, we booked a cheapish room at the Ace hotel due to some Orbitz rewards I had racked up and in two hours, I was sitting at a restaurant in 83 degree weather sipping a Bloody Mary. Later we sat by the pool reading, took a nap, went to dinner, a day of perfection. I could’ve gotten on a plane home that evening and felt like my trip was worth it.
In the morning, while grabbing a quick brunch at Cheeky’s before we left for LA, the rain started and didn’t stop until Sunday afternoon. I thought I would mind because it’s not warm exactly and definitely not summery and DEAR GOD ENOUGH WITH THE PRECIPITATION, WORLD but it’s…spring. And spring, I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR!!!
The rain kept coming and I spent blissful hours alone while Tom was in rehearsal just sitting in a coffee shop reading a very long delicious novel, something I always say I’m going to do in New York but never do. I just grab a few pages here and there on the subway when I can. There’s something about the push and pull of the city that makes it hard to stop and rest and I think there’s some of that in LA, especially in the entertainment industry, but I’m blissfully not a part of it. So I read and I wrote and I napped and my best friend was always somewhere close by.
We reenacted choreography remembered from 6th grade when we were in the children’s chorus of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, much to his roommate’s dismay. We went out for late dinners and drank fancy cocktails downtown. We spent each night in bed next to each other watching HBO on his laptop, the computer balanced on a pillow between us.
This is my 7th time visiting Tom in LA? I think? It’s amusing to see that the first time (when hilariously, it also rained as soon as I arrived), was spent really seeing the town and doing some touristy things and cramming a lot in to a few short days. As the years have gone by, it has become less about that and more about Tom being like ‘hey I have errands to run, do you want to drive around with me for two hours?’ and we sit and do NOTHING and it doesn’t seem to matter at all. In fact, it’s quite lovely to have that kind of relationship where you’re like hi, you don’t have to entertain me or do anything special, I’ll just be here hanging out with you regardless.
He did clean his room for me, which I found quite precious.
It doesn’t take much to reboot and reset and breathe a little bit after a winter spent bracing against the chill, shoulders hunched, evenings spent feeling sad for no reason. I feel like I’ve now got gas in the tank and I can power through the rest of the cold and I’m so grateful for that.
How about you come to New York sometime soon?
Tom, also I am talking to you.