January 1st, Four Years Later
Four years ago today, the first of the year, I met you unexpectedly. I was only here in Austin for a small handful of days, my escape from the miserable New York winter where auditions bruised my ego and my canine best friend inched towards the end of her life.
The night before, I’d kissed a lot of people at a wild party. I’d done cocaine for the first (and only) time, I’d gotten high and drank whiskey. As someone who rarely dances on the edges, an addict of moderation, I felt bold and warm and full . When I went to sleep that night, I felt my heart beating fast for hours before dreams finally truly took me.
That day, the first of the year, I’d woken up and made cinnamon buns from scratch for the first (and only) time for the house full of friends and my ex. We started the day with champagne. 2014 and we were alive.
In New York my roommate kept saying she wanted to set me up with sexy ladies she knew. “Just give me until 2014,” I kept saying. “I’ll be ready next year.”
Come afternoon in the southern city, my rowdy crew piled out of a pickup truck, onto the Lamar pedestrian bridge, when I heard my name. “Alexis?” I turned around and saw two women I’d never met looking at me with recognition. “It’s Court,” one said. “And this,” gesturing to the other, to you, “is Erika. From Circle.”
Ah. Yes. I had been seduced by a friend into what I hoped was a good idea. A financial exchange among women, mostly artists, counteracting patriarchal systems like capitalism…