Amy Mine

Posted April 12th, 2004 by Sean Williams

Almost as significant as getting married is the fact that our long time room-mate Amy moved out today. It’s taken her a few days to haul her stuff ten blocks east, but last night she slept at her new place and today she took the last load.

When Jordana and I were moving out of the first place we lived together (which we call Deb’s place because, well, the place was Deb’s parents and it was never “Deb and Jordana’s place”), we were trying to find our own apartments. Jordana was willing to pay 12 or 13 hundred a month to stay in Manhattan, I was basically broke but was talking about moving in with my sister… the whole thing was ridiculous. None of our plans were *possible*, yet they were our plans.

Then Jordana suggested that we find a place, a two bedroom, and make it work for a year or so with a room-mate. The only person we could imagine living with was Amy, who was Jordi’s pot-luck suitemate at Carolina, and was a friend of mine from back at school. I had never known Amy when she wasn’t laughing and smiling and generally being really funny and fun, and if she had lived with 18 year old Jordana and didn’t kill her, she was way ahead on the “puttin’ up with bullshit”-ometer.

Amy has lived with us since August of 2000. That’s as long as I’ve lived with anyone. (In fact, it’s weird to me that I’ve lived in New York for four years and I still love it here). During that time, I’ve discovered that Amy and I have a lot in common, she isn’t actually the sweet fun, funny girl all the time, much of the time is very dark and very complicated for her. I’ve had lots of long discussions with Amy, not just about our frailties and shortcomings, but also our desperate need to embrace those aspects of ourselves that we are most ashamed of.

Look, I lived with her for four years. If you want a list of her faults, the things she does that could drive someone crazy, I could give them to you. But the truth is that the aspects of her that are maddening are motivated by the same things in her that are touching. She walks around with a physical and metaphorical barrier protecting her from the world, everywhere she goes she brings herself. A few moments…

The three of us were playing cards at two in the morning and Amy, 90% asleep, asked who was losing and I told her she was and she smacked her head and said “that’s *terrible* news”…

My mom had made orange rolls and Amy was slathering butter on one of these sticky sweet buns and she looked at me and said “what the fuck do I care?”…

New Year’s Eve party, Amy, miserable beyond recognition, made a brave face and kept serving drinks and food to everyone until it ran out and she ended up making trays of frozen french fries and passing them around as appetizers until she finally quietly retired to her room where she cried herself to sleep without anyone knowing…

Many, many mornings on weekends, Amy would ask, “um, Sean, is there, y’know, *breakfast* coming?” and I would, beside myself with excitement, make some kind of awesome breakfast…

But, when I think of Amy, her loyalty and dilligence come to mind. She is searching for metaphysical shortcuts in many ways, but she is willing to work ten times harder for them than anyone I know. Raised with deep-seated racist tendencies, Amy has embraced every other culture to the exclussion of none. She speaks Italian and Spanish, and has spent time in Italy and Mexico as a resident, not a tourist. And her battle against her own self hatred is one she shoulders every single day, and that she faces bravely.

She quit her sales job to take a 50% pay cut in order to teach school in Harlem. She did it because her sales job made her sad and teaching kids makes her happy. The financial concerns, the classist concerns, the racist concerns, nothing slowed her down. She is, without a doubt, a great woman, and I’m really proud to have her as my friend.