slumber

She came up with a terrible excuse to leave the party early. It had already become slightly unbearable when Robert arrived and insisted on following her around all night only to hit peak awkwardness with a romantic lift during a conversation about a date they had in the early days of their relationship.

As she walked out the door, taking a deep breath of rainy air, she realized she’d already had ulterior motives in the back of her mind. Three blocks away. Her shoe shoved a tiny rock back and forth as she considered sending a text.

“Hey. Are you up? ”

Delete.

“I’m in the neighborhood. Wanna hang out?”

Delete.

“Hey.”

Send. She exhaled, and retrieved a cigarette from her bag. Her hands shook as she lit it, and waited for a few moments.

Nah. Forget it. It’s late and it’s a work night, just go-

“Hey girl. What’s up?”

Damnit.

“So I just left a party and I’m on your street. Busy?”

She didn’t even know this guy. Last time they met, he kept asking stupid questions and laughing out loud as if he’d made a joke except he hadn’t

“I’m home. Wanna stop by?”

Ugh. She already regretted the text. But then again. Maybe it would be interesting. She could just grab a few drinks and stop by for an hour. What time is it? Ten fifteen. Alright.

She stopped at the dep for another pack of cigarettes and a couple of beers. Does he even like beer? Who doesn’t like beer? Shuffled back outside and two minutes later she was outside his building.

“bzzzzzzzz.”

The elevator ride up was incredibly long, plenty of time to change her mind back and forth a few more times before she found herself knocking on his door. He was wearing baggy jeans with holes in them, and his t-shirt was all torn up. She could swear he looked like he just finished painting his room, paint stained and ruffled hair.

He smiled a big stupid smile and she could feel its contagious effect all over.

“Hi.”

He didn’t really invite her in at first, which was weird and nice. They stood right there in the doorway talking about their night and week and life and then he asked if she wanted to meet his sister as a lanky girl walked by behind him. Then he asked her to come in and see his room.

She got why he hadn’t invited her in sooner, his room looked like someone had just thrown stuff in there for months. Clothes covered every available surface, and the rest was cluttered with paint and paintings and a vast amount of stuff. Small sculptures and notebooks and a broken skateboard, one million penciles and photographs of high school friends. Multiple plastic bags for some reason. The only available place to sit down was on the edge of the bed, and she added her plastic bag with Coronas into the mix.

“Beer?”

“Yeah, but I can’t find the opener. Uhm...”

She yanked the bottle using her lighter and he was acting all impressed by it.

They talked for hours about everything and anything and nothing, all his paintings and his work and her work and she pointed at photos and he told her embarrassing stories about high school and childhood, where he grew up and it was so different than who he seemed to be. But in a good way. He asked interesting questions that had nothing to do with anything in particular leading to long discussions about not much at all. Is astrology really meaningful? Where would we live if not on earth? Would flies make good pets? What happens after we die?

When she finally decided she had to leave, he followed her to the door and suddenly no words were left to be said. He stood there with this look on his face like he was laughing out loud but he wasn’t laughing. His face was bubbly and full of energy, and she had to look down at her feet. The silence lasted for so long it became awkward.

“Okay, so...Bye. Goodnight. Yes.”

She turned to leave, but noticed he held her arm firmly, and was forced to turn back around. It was as if he leaned in to kiss her, but he didn’t. So she leaned in to kiss him. Briefly. But for so long. And then she looked back down at her feet and backed out of the apartment, turned around and walked down the hallway to the elevator, got in, doors closing. Four thirty.

“Shit.”