An Offer I Couldn't Refuse

Dear India,

It’s been more than a month now since we last saw each other and almost as long since we last talked. I appreciate your numerous attempts to contact me and I’m sorry for not getting back to you until now. I apologize for the distance I imposed and any hurt that it may have caused you.

I know that you resent me for taking this break from you—from us—but it was something that I needed to do both for my emotional wellbeing as well as for my career. I don’t really know where we stand or what you want, and, quite honestly, I’m not sure what I want either.

If you’re mad at me and don’t want to talk, I understand. Hopefully though, at some point in the near future, you’ll want to talk again so we can make sense of the numerous ideas, thoughts, and emotions that are no doubt swirling around in our heads. It saddens me to think of how great our disconnect already is.

I wish I could call you right now or come over, but it’s 2am and you’re probably sleeping. Actually, you’ve probably been asleep for a good four hours now which, sadly enough, reminds me of so many nights together with me sitting awake trying to communicate with you, and you completely passed out.

I feel like I tried to make it work. I feel like I tried hard and really wanted it to. But then we fell victim to that same old pattern. You ignore me. I start looking around. You don’t call. We don’t talk. I need reassurance. You say we’ll talk later. I want to spend time with you. We’re never alone.

Sure, some of your friends I really don’t like. But I never asked you to end or even change your relationship with them, nor did I quit spending time with you just because they were around.

You were always pushing me away. We both know you have trust issues. The moment I got too close, you put up a wall and started to sabotage our relationship. And then you would get drunk and say the most hurtful things.

And yes, I have trust issues as well, and my feelings are easily hurt. When I say I need reassurance and you say we’ll talk later, when I make suggestions and you don’t offer any opinions of your own, I feel as though you’re pushing me aside. I tell myself that you don’t intend to be flippant or unaffectionate, that you don’t try to ignore me, that you don’t mean to struggle to not answer your phone in bed or at breakfast—but the fact remains that I still resent it. And that resentment came out when I wasn’t concentrating or was too tired to keep it inside.

You say I’m a victim. You say you don’t see this ending. You say you want me to look you in the eyes and say your name and tell you that I love you. I say I need reassurance. I say the thought of leaving you made me physically ill. You were all I wanted and you were the only one on my mind. But we can’t pretend that we didn’t have our issues.

I spent nine months with you and seven in what many would refer to as your armpit. Your thighs I have never seen. Your knees? No, not those either. An ankle perhaps? Well, no, not even an ankle. I’m aware that this is your culture and we would have to marry before I could see any of that, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

And yet in spite of all of that, there’s no question that I miss you. I often feel lonely without you, without your sweltering presence, your inquisitive eyes, your numerous bodies pressed against me.

I don’t know what you want at this point. If you want to wait until I return (either in August or November) and then give it another shot, I’m more than willing to do it. If you just want to be friends, then let’s just be friends and not plan to do date-like stuff, because then I end up wanting to kiss you, and then you act all awkward and then I just feel stupid, which really won’t help me meet other people who might actually want to date and kiss me.

My biggest fear was then, and remains still, the fever dream—one that I’ll wake up from and think, wow, I was with India and it was crazy, but that was then and now it's all a blur. I know you’re not the most communicative one, but I really need to know where you stand and what you’re thinking, so we can make a decision that's best for the both of us.

Tera Karela,

j.

p.s. I’ve included some photos: one is of the view from my room here in Saigon; the other is of a dragonfruit. I threw some video in there too of local moto traffic.

Stop the Clocks

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.



I stand before you today, the representative of a family in grief, in a country in mourning, before a world in shock. We are all united not only in our desire to pay our respects to Chepe, but rather in our need to do so. For such was his extraordinary appeal that the tens of millions of people taking part in this service all over the world via television, radio, and internet who never actually met him, feel that they too lost someone close to them in the early hours of Saturday morning. It is a more remarkable tribute to him than I can ever hope to offer him today.

Today is our chance to say thank you for the way Chepe brightened our lives, even though he himself was granted but half a life. We all feel cheated that he was taken from us so young and yet we must learn to be grateful that he came along at all. We have despaired at his loss over the past few days and only the strength of the message he gave us through his years of selfless giving has afforded us the strength to move forward.

The last time I saw Chepe was on June 10th of last year in North Carolina. I was sitting at the dining room table in my brother's house with my nephew and my girlfriend, the three of us languidly watching Chepe out on the front lawn. I cannot recall what he was doing, but I distinctly remember glancing at my two companions: his bright blue eyes were as large as dinner plates; and she, an admitted anti-cat person, eked a grin out of the corner of her mouth that eventually spread into a full-fledged smile. Unable to spend more than a few waking moments away from him, I opened the front door and whistled. Chepe meowed and bounded in and immediately leapt up into my mom's lap. My brother's wife, adorable nephew number two in tow, sat down at my mom's left as my mom began to scratch behind Chepe's ears. If the newest addition to the family hadn't shortly thereafter been distracted by his portable breakfast, he too would have been fixated on Chepe. Such was Chepe's charm. He was as charismatic as any four-legger, and most two-leggers, that ever were and was almost impossible to keep your eyes (and hands) off of. He touched us all and we will miss him dearly.

Chepe is survived by his loving parents in DC and Vietnam, his sister Minga in Minneapolis, three siblings in Guatemala, and, I think, no children.

Chepe Alejandro Tuchman belongs to the ages now. But I'll have to admit, it was much better when he belonged to us.