Anastasia just passed and nobody knows why yet. I had just been chatting with her. It was like we saw each other just last week, though , in fact, the last time I saw her was in San Francisco 29 years ago. She was leaving on the back of some guy’s motorcycle.
I had been meaning to tell her that all the joking about L being gay and in love with F was actually true. I was going to dm her after wishing her a happy birthday. I had just decided which photo to post on her page for the occasion when I read she was gone.
I met her 30 years ago when she was dating my friend and roommate and she discovered a hidden stone staircase leading to our apartment on Barracks street in the quarter which she told us she had dreamt about. She was charming and beautiful and somewhat crazy, I thought.
A year later, when I was tending bar at The Abbey, I started dating a handsome but boring guy named F with magnificent hair who I was surprised to learn was already dating another bartender at the Abbey. We both dropped him and I began seeing his less attractive but much more interesting roommate, L. Shortly after, Anastasia began dating F. L was obsessed with the whereabouts of his roommate and Anastasia and F both complained it was hard to be alone together. I also thought it was odd that L seemed uninterested in spending time with me without F. People at the Abbey joked about L being in love with F. They called him “Latent”. Nobody took it seriously. L couldn’t be gay. He wore flannel shirts and had bad skin and messy hair. Finally, I broke up with L and moved to San Francisco and Anastasia broke up with F and followed me out there.
Over 20 years later, the bartender who had been dating F when I went out with him told me L had finally come out and was living with his Native American lover on a reservation. She had dated him after me which seemed appropriate. Anastasia would have appreciated that piece of gossip. No word on what happened to F or his beautiful hair.