Monday, August 3, 2009

Grim II

Samantha is a marvelous person really and most of the time we get along brilliantly. She's the only person I've ever dated that I don't feel that I have to chatter at constantly, perhaps trying to fill the silence so that I never have to know that we have nothing to talk about. Sam and I have never needed anything to talk about. We met through some friends at a party I can't remember why I was there as I don't particularly like them. Now, years later, they've been long since relegated to "her friends" rather than "our friends". Regardless I did find myself, that many years ago, leaning up against the weatherboard lined banister of a backyard porch nursing a warm beer that had only managed to kiss the ice in the bath tub before it was removed and passed out to the surge of newcomers. It was a housewarming, or a going away party, even then I wasn't sure. There were large groups of people that were coagulating in popular gathering areas like the kitchen, or in the middle of the hallway, leaving the living room relatively empty. I was wondering why people tend to gather in such places and what it was about those places what made them so "gatherable" when I was awoke from my revere by a scream and laughter. Sam was down on the lawn play fighting with a couple of the other guys, it seemed so reckless and stupid to me at the time. I couldn't admit how much watching her pin some guy turned me on because I was vitally aware of how vitally aware she was of every single guy watching her. I was disgusted and walked away.

No, I didn’t particularly like her when I first met Sam and I liked her friends even less. They were the social types - they went to gatherings and organized theme nights. They dressed up and talked about football, they discussed politics but religion was an unspoken taboo. They were bright eyed and intellectual but they were dull mouthed and went to great lengths to ensure that they never said anything that was in any way controversial. They were beautiful cowards.

I found myself at the front of the line and the lady behind the glass was looking at me expectantly, I gave her my winning ticket. For some reason at that moment I almost expecting her to curse my luck, as if it were her money personally, but she barely registered my existence as she gathered the thirty dollars winnings and handed it over. She didn’t call for the next person, she didn’t ask if there was anything else she could help me with - she simply starred at me with sardonic eyes waiting for me to step sideways.

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