The Evening
Danny and I got more and more shitfaced on pot.
The waves crashed on the beach in front of us. I’m always entranced by that sound, the sound of never ending power of the planet. It is the voice of the earth, saying I have been here for billions of years, I will be here for a billion more.
I had some pasta that I’d made, which I bought down with me.
“Do you fancy some pasta,” I asked Danny.”
“I fancy something,” slurred Danny.
“It’s puttanesca tomatoes, olive oil, anchovies, olives, capers and garlic.”
“Isn’t that what they used to call their slut daughters?”
“Well, yes, the whore’s pasta.”
“You are kidding.”
“No, supposedly the prostitutes in Naples could cook it up between clients… allegedly.”
“Let’s hope they washed their hands.”
“How do you know this stuff?”
“I’ve lived with whore all my life?”
“Seriously?”
How adorable. “No.”
Danny held my gaze, I assume he was waiting for me to laugh. I didn’t. I smiled to myself. “I’ll get the pasta.”
We ate the pasta. We drank some red wine.
I was halfway to maggotted by the time we’d finished dinner. All I wanted to do was stare out to sea. All I wanted to do is sit very still to contemplate my recent behaviour, Danny, sure, but Steve as well.
And then just as I was getting to the end of my conversation abilities, Danny exited, as though through telepathy.
“You coming up to Robo’s to play cards?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Not tonight?”
“Nah, I might give it a miss.”
“Oh well, I’m heading off up there,” said Danny. “The guys are having a 500 grudge match to make up for last night’s marathon.”
“Oh well, have fun.”
“Sure you don’t want to come?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Danny got up to leave. He staggered sideways. “Jees,” he said. He laughed. His face was red. “Fuckin’ walking, hey?”
“Should be a law against it.”
We both laughed.
He staggered to the side of the deck. “Hey, do you mind if I crash here again tonight?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Okay, great.”
“Just let yourself in,” I said. “You know where everything is.”
Then I formed my own smoking circle of death. It was my moment to let the sadness creep in, stop fitting, stop telling myself that I was okay, and just let is all wash over me. Metaphorically, and almost literally.
Yeas, sure, I was feeling really sad about Steve. It was a breakup even if he only felt safe enough to call it having a break. I thought we had something.
But, what I felt sadder about was that I had no idea that is how he felt. Is this what the term blindsided meant? It bought into sharper focus, my intuitiveness or, more to the point, lack thereof, more so than my ability to form relationships. Was I that clueless and I didn’t know it?
I was absolutely maggotted as I crashed into doors and walls and the bedroom door, which I thought was open and then finally my bed, like a giant redwood coming down. Chubby leapt up onto the bed and used my stomach as a pillow. He doesn’t usually do that, and I am sure it said something.
The waves crashed on the beach in front of us. I’m always entranced by that sound, the sound of never ending power of the planet. It is the voice of the earth, saying I have been here for billions of years, I will be here for a billion more.
I had some pasta that I’d made, which I bought down with me.
“Do you fancy some pasta,” I asked Danny.”
“I fancy something,” slurred Danny.
“It’s puttanesca tomatoes, olive oil, anchovies, olives, capers and garlic.”
“Isn’t that what they used to call their slut daughters?”
“Well, yes, the whore’s pasta.”
“You are kidding.”
“No, supposedly the prostitutes in Naples could cook it up between clients… allegedly.”
“Let’s hope they washed their hands.”
“How do you know this stuff?”
“I’ve lived with whore all my life?”
“Seriously?”
How adorable. “No.”
Danny held my gaze, I assume he was waiting for me to laugh. I didn’t. I smiled to myself. “I’ll get the pasta.”
We ate the pasta. We drank some red wine.
I was halfway to maggotted by the time we’d finished dinner. All I wanted to do was stare out to sea. All I wanted to do is sit very still to contemplate my recent behaviour, Danny, sure, but Steve as well.
And then just as I was getting to the end of my conversation abilities, Danny exited, as though through telepathy.
“You coming up to Robo’s to play cards?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Not tonight?”
“Nah, I might give it a miss.”
“Oh well, I’m heading off up there,” said Danny. “The guys are having a 500 grudge match to make up for last night’s marathon.”
“Oh well, have fun.”
“Sure you don’t want to come?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Danny got up to leave. He staggered sideways. “Jees,” he said. He laughed. His face was red. “Fuckin’ walking, hey?”
“Should be a law against it.”
We both laughed.
He staggered to the side of the deck. “Hey, do you mind if I crash here again tonight?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Okay, great.”
“Just let yourself in,” I said. “You know where everything is.”
Then I formed my own smoking circle of death. It was my moment to let the sadness creep in, stop fitting, stop telling myself that I was okay, and just let is all wash over me. Metaphorically, and almost literally.
Yeas, sure, I was feeling really sad about Steve. It was a breakup even if he only felt safe enough to call it having a break. I thought we had something.
But, what I felt sadder about was that I had no idea that is how he felt. Is this what the term blindsided meant? It bought into sharper focus, my intuitiveness or, more to the point, lack thereof, more so than my ability to form relationships. Was I that clueless and I didn’t know it?
I was absolutely maggotted as I crashed into doors and walls and the bedroom door, which I thought was open and then finally my bed, like a giant redwood coming down. Chubby leapt up onto the bed and used my stomach as a pillow. He doesn’t usually do that, and I am sure it said something.
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