Avery Meets His Neighbors

How could my doctor be so stupid? His missing license number was the only thing standing between mental piece of mind and me. I sighed, resigning to the fact that I would have to wait another day to get my Xanax prescription refilled. After purchasing a large bottle of Advil— a consolation prize of sorts—, I made the disappointing journey home.

Avery Hearts Xanax, Part III

I nearly killed a woman when I arrived at Walgreens. I was so deep into my memories of meeting Jack’s parents, I accidentally walked directly into an elderly woman. She didn’t fall to the ground, but she was mad. The stream of obscenities that came from her mouth was enough to make Lisa Lampanelli blush.

Lisa Lampanelli - Tough Love (DVD)

Avery Hearts Xanax

Although I felt a little better during my telephone conversation with Jasper, the tide shifted when I hung up the telephone. It was only 9:00am, and I was already through a bottle of Whole Food’s Three Wishes Cabernet Sauvignon. As I meandered through the apartment, I was overcome with all of the memories that we’d made here in two short years. This was our dream home.

Avery’s Friend Jasper

Six years later, the memory of meeting Jack for the first time is as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. Wardrobe aside, it was amazing. We instantly clicked. I can’t recall which film we saw. I only remember our hands began to touch sometime before the opening credits finished rolling. I sat sobbing in the kitchen of the home we built together, soaking in the reality of Jack wanting out of our relationship. My quiet contemplation was interrupted by a call from Jasper. I’d never been happier to hear his voice.

Avery Gets Dumped

A few things about me: My name’s Avery. I’m a gay man living in Chicago, and, until this morning, my life was fantastic. I’m a night nurse at one of the city’s top hospitals, live in a fabulous Streeterville high-rise and share that home with two adorable kitties and my partner. Scratch that. Shared. This morning my partner of six years—we’ll call him Jack (as in Jackass)— announced that he was no longer in love with me. Let me set the stage.

7:00AM: I had just arrived from work in a great mood. A spunky four year-old patient, who no one thought would make it through the night, had pulled through like the trooper he is. After describing the previous night’s event to our doorman (Simms is the most awesome doorman in Chicago! Most every morning we have a brief chat over coffee.), I headed up to the 14^th floor.

Jack, already dressed for the commute to his Schaumburg office, sat at the table in our eat-in-kitchen. He looked like Folgers advertisement: This gorgeous man sipping a steaming hot cup of java, in front of a floor-to-ceiling window that frames the calm endless blue of Lake Michigan.

We’ve been renting this condominium unit for more than two years. The owner has accepted our offer to purchase the place. The deposit check was delivered last Friday.

“What’s wrong?” I asked Jack. He had an awful look on his face that I’d only seen once before. The same pained expression he wore when he told me that my lola (grandmother for you non-Filipinos) had passed. I silently complied when he asked me to sit. For the rest of my life, I will never forget his words:

“I’ve done a lot of thinking, and I realize I don’t love you anymore. I’m moving out.”

I went numb. He downed the last of his coffee, grabbed his keys and briefcase off the counter and exited the kitchen. I sat in still silence until I heard the front door close behind him. In that moment, I experienced all 7 stages of grief. One after another they hit— shock, denial, guilt, boom, boom, boom—as if they were numbers on that stupid spinning wheel on “The Price is Right.”

My wheel, however, landed on “Anger.” God forgive me for what I did next.