Friends from high school. I have breakfast with my oldest friend in the world, Teri P. (We've known each other since second grade). I see another old high school friend; stop by the house of another. I feel grounded, remembering a life before Art.
We gab about people he didn't know, guys I slept with, guys our friend's slept with and it feels easy and funny and not embarrassing at all.
And I come back to the hotel room, feeling tight and strange, questioning his existence. It's like Art was a hiccup. And standing here, in a hotel we never stayed at, in a bed we never made-love in, with children he will never see grow, his existence is hard to grasp.
Until I try to sleep...