Ohh I think I follow what you're saying now. Hmm, maybe I need to transition better there. It didn't really have anything to do with alcohol. That was just a side attraction I enjoyed while I was kind of reevaluating my life and deciding if I ever even wanted to go back. I think I was vague in all of that, so I'll go back and rework that segment to make things more clear. Super appreciate this feedback, these are things I didn't even notice myself as the writer. I think the blanks are already filled in in my head, and even though I have tried to write it in a way where I'm putting myself in the readers shoes, I would have never noticed those blanks without your input.
Also I should probably tie in this whole extra little story about that time in New Orleans. I'll work it into the story on an edit but lemme know if you think it should be included or not based on this shortened up version.
I fell in love with a girl when I was a teenager. She moved away to New Orleans and we kept in touch almost daily on the phone. Romance wasn't in the cards but I loved her as a person and a friend, so we were friends. Neither of us had cell phones in those days, these were landlines. We'd chat all the time, her in New Orleans, me in California. Then one day hurricane Katrina hit, and I had no word from her or way to reach her. Landlines were destroyed, what happened to my friend? I'd call and call, all I ever got was some weird buzzing noises on the other end. A sound I'd never heard before when placing a call. Months and months went by, what happened to my friend, did she survive?
Nearly a year had passed, that number never worked again. It was something that just never felt right to me, I had to know if she was ok. So when Joey asked if I wanted to ride trains to Chicago, I started thinking of New Orleans. I agreed to ride with him to Chicago and then I had my own plans to go to New Orleans. I wanted to visit my train hopping busker friends but I also wanted to show up to my friends house to see if she was there. We used to write snail mail all the time so I knew her address by memory, in Algiers. During the time that I was staying in the bywater, I borrowed a friend bike and I rode to Algiers to my long lost friends address.
I knocked, but no answer. I saw no clear signs indicating whether or not she lived there still. No name on the mailbox, nothing. I knocked a couple times and then a door opened next to the one I knocked at. An old woman came out and asked who I was looking for. I told her my friends name and she said oh, yes she lives here but her truck is gone right now so she must be at work. Those words healed a friend sized hole in my heart, she lives! I didn't even need to see her, I just needed to know that she was ok. But I definitely wanted to see her too. So I left my phone number with the old neighbor lady and I returned to the bywater.
That same night I got a call from my friend. It was so cathartic to hear her voice again, she was so excited sounding too. I had so many fucking questions! She said "How about you take me to dinner and we can catch up!". We set a time and that night I stood on the porch waiting for her to pull up. Alynda, Barnabus, Sticks, Aileen, and others were all out there with me. They were all aware of the entire saga and they wanted to witness the reunion. My friend pulled up in front of me, left her truck in the street and ran and jumped into my arms. I hugged her so hard and cried. My busker friends awwwed in a quiet tone, letting us have this moment.
It was so amazing, reuniting with her. We got all the tears out of the way and I hopped in her truck with her and we drove to a Thai restaurant in the quarter. We ate and caught up on everything. She told me that she stayed through the hurricane in the city. She found refuge on a tall building with strangers and rode it out. She told me that she suffered an aneurysm during that whole event and was hospitalized in a coma for many many days. She said that it fucked her brain up and she'll never be the same. She couldn't really explain it so well, just that she feels like she'll be a hermit more or less for the rest of her life. I believe it was some sort of social anxiety and probably a bunch of other stuff too.
It was sad, it was really sad because here we were reuniting and it all felt so good to me but I wondered how difficult it had to be for her just to even call me, let alone show up and then go have dinner and talk about all of it. I asked her what she needed from me and she just asked for understanding. I love that girl and I may never fully understand everything that happened but I absolutely respected her wishes. That night nearly two decades ago was the last time I've seen or spoken to her. I hope she's ok. I'll never reach out or try to find her again. I accept it, but it still makes me sad.
Do you think this segment fits into the story or perhaps too much?
