One year ago... on Christmas morning,
Nurse Nigel awoke in apartment 809, Beachside Village in Port Prozac to find his girlfriend... dead.
I was listening at my door when her family was calling relatives, notifying them that this woman's cancer had finally taken her life.
I was watching through the peephole when he hugged her mother. The mother told him she was happy he'd brought her to his place for Christmas, and assured him her daughter had died happily.
I was standing outside as the body was loaded up into a van to be taken away. I watched the look on Nigel's face as his lover was wheeled away from him for the rest of his days.
I've watched from afar for a year now since this tragedy. While I'm taking my groceries out of my car, Nigel is the first to shout over to me to ask if I need a hand (which I never have said yes to, because heaven forbid we ever rely on the closest people to us to actually lend us a hand). When I arrive home and drunk from ridiculous nights out with ridiculous friends, Nigel and his pals laugh and wave to me and make jokes about "minding my step" as I trip over my own feet. I always note how he's still smiling. When I'm putting clothes into the washer in the laundry room just outside my door, Nigel can be expected to pop his head in and say "How've you been, man?"
I admire his persistent good moods and from a distance, hope for happiness for this seemingly caring human being. He demonstrates a healthy view on life, and I'm happy that he's still finding happiness this year.
Tonight, Merry Mel and I witnessed another moment of Nigel finding happiness.
We were laying on my bed laughing and chatting like women about all of the unimportant things that ego-centric single people like to chat about for hours, when we heard some noises through the wall.
For the next fifteen minutes, we sat cupping our hands to the wall and listening to Nurse Nigel fucking, fucking, fucking.....
I'm happy for him. It's been a while since I've heard Nigel slamming away in the sack.
It's all part of moving on, I suppose. It shows strength (in more ways than one).
