As we kissed for the fourth time in 24 hours I began to believe that I knew how to predict the exact time and moment that this world will end. I felt omnipotent.
Today I chose the venue we’d meet at. It was a boat bar that we had passed but two days previous.
After some light chat about nothing and a drink, water for me, wine for her, we shared lips for the fifth time. The end of this shared moment was rather awkward though –she pulled her head away prematurely and took a second out. A blank stare into the distance and a turn of the head.
“How was that for you? Did the earth move?” I jokingly ask, to make the awkwardness less so.
She smiles lightly. No response.
“Is that a yes?”
“Is what a yes?” She asks, preoccupied, before rummaging through her bag for something. Nothing it seems.
I take a sip of my water and look outside at the river. A discomfited glaze hits our space. A silence.
“What are we doing?” She asks – almost at a mumble. With more stares at nothing in particular. Almost comatose.
I, confused, don’t reply.
“What the hell are we doing?” She asks again, this time more directly. I am forced to reply this time via her lack of ambiguousness.
“What do you mean?” Nice reply from me.
“This. Us. What are we doing?”
“Mostly talking crap and kissing.” I reply whilst smiling. She doesn’t smile back.
“That’s what I mean. We’re friends. Friends don’t do this.”
“Well, we’re escalating our friendship to something more precious.”
“Yeah.” She replies flatly, pausing, then continuing, “I don’t want that.”
I am taken aback. It felt like the perfect mountain I had climbed in the past 96 hours was being slowly ripped down by some corporate fucks with aspirations of building another of the ‘world’s tallest buildings’ (How many do they need? Really?)
“Why not?” I asked – with that confused look on my face, that’s normally reserved for people who ask directions when I don’t want to tell them.
“It doesn’t feel right. We’re friends.”
“But...”
She cuts me mid-sentence, “It doesn’t matter what you say....it just doesn’t.”
“I don’t get a say?”
She pauses and puts her bag down. She went in there to take out her phone which she then randomly plays with. Annoying me in the process.
“No. You don’t get a say.”
I chuckle, annoyed, frustrated...inadequate again.
“Well...” I say – almost speechless, “...That’s bullshit.”
She looks up at me – with a ‘he swore’ look.
“It just the way I feel.” She says casually. As if I meant nothing to her. She continues to play with her phone. Giving me little eye contact. I turn my body away from her and take another sour sip of my water. No one sips anymore, I thought to myself to quell my anger. It’s true. No one sips anymore. Everyone drinks. No one sips.
I couldn’t contain the anger anymore. I put the drink down with a sharp thud.
“This makes no sense. You make no sense. You fall in love and then the next minute you fall out of love?”
“Love?” She snaps, finally giving me FULL eye contact, “Where did ‘love’ come from?”
“You know what I mean...something special happened between us and is happening right now...you can’t...”
She cuts me again, “Something special?” she chuckles, “Okayyyyyyyyy then.”
“What?” I ask aggressively.
“You live your whole life in a Charlotte Bronte novel. Your credence is ‘Love is all conquering’. It’s a fallacy. Like most writers you’re deluded.”
“You don't think writers are intelligent do you?”
“They're not intelligent - my dad told me never date writers, they're not clever. They make stuff up because of that very reason. They don’t have a basic grasp of intelligence much less possess it.”
“Yeah well my dad told me...fuck you!” I venomously say to her. But quickly elaborate, realising my mistake...”Not literally....just a figure of speech.”
“Whatever.” She says playing with her phone again.
I shake my head in resignation and then look up at her.
“You said writers inspire you. You wanted to write. You love writers and writing.”
“So?” She says in her typical fashion. Not giving a care in the world.
“You’re being a hypocrite.”
“Well that is the benefit of being a professional hypocrite! I can say what I want and then change it!!!”
I shake my head again.
“So everything that has happened you want to just forget it and pretend it didn’t happen?”
She nods yes, playing with the phone.
Silence.
“So what now? We just go back to being friends?”
“Yup. That’s what I want.”
Silence.
“Doesn’t make any sense. We haven’t even given it a try.”
She doesn’t say anything.
“Why?” I asked, desperate for some logic.
Her concentration in her phone she barks out, “I just want this. Just friends. I don’t want to really talk about it.”
“We have to. Otherwise it’s going to affect our friendship.”
“Not really.” She says with a lack of emotion.
Silence. I lower my head in disappointment.
More silence. This time it lasts a full 4 minutes. Within the 240 seconds my heart sinks into a despondent shell.
She puts her phone in her bag and looks at me.
“I’m going to go.”
I manage to find the strength to softly reply, “Okay.”
She picks up her bag and stands up with a blunt, “Bye.”
I don’t reply.
“Fine, don’t reply.” She says.
“You haven’t even talked about it and you’re leaving. Fine.” I volley at her in my most moody manner.
“There’s not really much to talk about.”
“Fine.” I irritably reply.
“Bye.”
Ignoring her farewell, I randomly say, “’Professional hypocrite’...that's not even a job.”
She gives me a blank stare and again says bye before exiting.
This forever confusion was day four.
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