She waits, fingers frozen on the phone keys, eyes scanning the parking lot like a predatory animal. I eye her carefully, noting her erect posture and meticulously curled hair. We make brief eye contact before I return to the side of the building where you are sitting alone. Methodically, you fill your lungs up with smoke and exhale, not bothering to face me as we speak.
I pronounce that she is cute and also extremely interested in you.
You make no effort to mask your indifference as you continue to smoke unperturbed for a minute. Then you pat the cement next to you so I sit. Its dark and balmy out and I lean back and listen to the honks and splutters as the traffic goes by. I am starting to worry that you don't intend to see her even though she has been posted by the door waiting for you.
'Are you nervous?' you question softly.
I don't answer. I am not afraid, just wary of the possibility of running into an uncomfortable situation. From experience I know that while you are aware of it, you are seldom conducive to my self pity and so the chances that you'll let me leave early are slim to nonexistant.
True to your character you raise your eyebrows at me indicating that my answer was less than satisfactory. You take a few last drags of you cigarette, careful to blow away from my face and then stand up, digging out car keys from your pocket. You drop them into my lap and tell me you have to grab something really quick. I assume you are buying more cigarettes, so I maintain my perch on the wall watching you jog to the little shop across the street. I check my texts and wait. I don't like when you smoke, but this is already known to you. The nature of our relationship forbids me from doing anything past expressing my disgust. Your choices are your own, and my views are just opinions, incapable of altering your behaviors. This conservative arrangement is probably the reason we never squabble over faults or misunderstandings.
It's 11:36 when you return. Realizing its been over 20 minutes since we arrived, I urgently motion to the door, worried that the poor girl is still waiting. You shrug, opening your trunk and rummaging around. Sometimes the extent of your apathy shocks and bothers me. If I was to ever fall out of favor with you, I know you would have no problem making a quick clean break. This is part of the reason I am always so careful with your rare and fragile emotions.
'If you don't, I will.' I warn you, pushing you around the corner towards her with my foot. You shut your trunk, producing a dark bottle with a flourish and nod. Smiling slyly, you disappear around the corner and I crane my neck to keep an eye on you. With surprise, I watch her embrace you as though you are not tardy at all.You motion towards the bottle in your hand, and then point towards me as you guide her.
After the initial introductions are made, you open the bottle and bring it towards my face. At the pungent scent of the alcohol, I recoil, shaking my head. Maybe when I was 16 I would have been able to do straight shots without a chaser in a dirty parking lot, but now, with experience I refuse. As if reading my mind, you reach into your pocket and unfold your hands to reveal the seven sour hard candies you probably just purchased. This gesture proves to be too much for Neha, who is clearly infatuated with you. She giggles and squeezes your waist, looking to you as though you are a rare ephemeral spectacle.You hold up 5 fingers indicating that if I want the candy I have to gulp for five seconds. You unwrap one candy and hold it in your left hand as you coaxingly tilt the bottle towards me. Trapped as I am, I allow you to tip the liquid into my mouth. It burns the inside of my throat and my lips as it trickles down the sides. You count to five out loud and then flip the bottle up and pop the candy into my mouth as quickly as you can. Rubbing my back with proud approval, you take a few swigs yourself then repeat the task on Neha who clings to you like a limbed limpet. My insides churn and my eyelids burn and hang heavily.
Neha, who until this point has been a very demure participant, takes your hand and leads us past the bouncer and down the stairs into the loud tangle of people. The alcohol has yet to take effect, as I can taste the bite and feel the growing discomfort in my stomach.
I pronounce that she is cute and also extremely interested in you.
You make no effort to mask your indifference as you continue to smoke unperturbed for a minute. Then you pat the cement next to you so I sit. Its dark and balmy out and I lean back and listen to the honks and splutters as the traffic goes by. I am starting to worry that you don't intend to see her even though she has been posted by the door waiting for you.
'Are you nervous?' you question softly.
I don't answer. I am not afraid, just wary of the possibility of running into an uncomfortable situation. From experience I know that while you are aware of it, you are seldom conducive to my self pity and so the chances that you'll let me leave early are slim to nonexistant.
True to your character you raise your eyebrows at me indicating that my answer was less than satisfactory. You take a few last drags of you cigarette, careful to blow away from my face and then stand up, digging out car keys from your pocket. You drop them into my lap and tell me you have to grab something really quick. I assume you are buying more cigarettes, so I maintain my perch on the wall watching you jog to the little shop across the street. I check my texts and wait. I don't like when you smoke, but this is already known to you. The nature of our relationship forbids me from doing anything past expressing my disgust. Your choices are your own, and my views are just opinions, incapable of altering your behaviors. This conservative arrangement is probably the reason we never squabble over faults or misunderstandings.
It's 11:36 when you return. Realizing its been over 20 minutes since we arrived, I urgently motion to the door, worried that the poor girl is still waiting. You shrug, opening your trunk and rummaging around. Sometimes the extent of your apathy shocks and bothers me. If I was to ever fall out of favor with you, I know you would have no problem making a quick clean break. This is part of the reason I am always so careful with your rare and fragile emotions.
'If you don't, I will.' I warn you, pushing you around the corner towards her with my foot. You shut your trunk, producing a dark bottle with a flourish and nod. Smiling slyly, you disappear around the corner and I crane my neck to keep an eye on you. With surprise, I watch her embrace you as though you are not tardy at all.You motion towards the bottle in your hand, and then point towards me as you guide her.
After the initial introductions are made, you open the bottle and bring it towards my face. At the pungent scent of the alcohol, I recoil, shaking my head. Maybe when I was 16 I would have been able to do straight shots without a chaser in a dirty parking lot, but now, with experience I refuse. As if reading my mind, you reach into your pocket and unfold your hands to reveal the seven sour hard candies you probably just purchased. This gesture proves to be too much for Neha, who is clearly infatuated with you. She giggles and squeezes your waist, looking to you as though you are a rare ephemeral spectacle.You hold up 5 fingers indicating that if I want the candy I have to gulp for five seconds. You unwrap one candy and hold it in your left hand as you coaxingly tilt the bottle towards me. Trapped as I am, I allow you to tip the liquid into my mouth. It burns the inside of my throat and my lips as it trickles down the sides. You count to five out loud and then flip the bottle up and pop the candy into my mouth as quickly as you can. Rubbing my back with proud approval, you take a few swigs yourself then repeat the task on Neha who clings to you like a limbed limpet. My insides churn and my eyelids burn and hang heavily.
Neha, who until this point has been a very demure participant, takes your hand and leads us past the bouncer and down the stairs into the loud tangle of people. The alcohol has yet to take effect, as I can taste the bite and feel the growing discomfort in my stomach.
