Untitled part eight

He came in the apartment, hanging his coat up in the closet and when he stepped into the living room to find me on the couch he threw his arms to the side in a "tah-dah!" sort of way to make me laugh. And it's true, dorkiness does it for me every time.

"You watchin' tv?" he asked and grinned at me, gesturing to the cardboard box made to look like a tv that Amigo had made when Roommate had moved her television into her bedroom a few weeks prior. "Is The Simpon's still on?" he asked and nodded when he saw the child-like drawing of Homer choking Bart.

I gave him a quit trying to cheer me up face and went back to my journal. "You could talk to me." he tapped the underside of the book  making my sentence jump in the middle. "You hungry? I'll take you across the street to Hoppers for dinner, my treat"

"I'm not twenty-one." I pointed out sourly the day had been crappy and I was all out of nice.

"It's cool. They know me, they won't care."

"No way."

"I'm serious. You won't get in trouble."

"So. I would know."

"Your head really works like that?"

"Like what?"

"Orderly. Straight and narrow. Even with the Roommate. You're just logical about it. No feelings in there?"

"I don't think I get what you're trying to say."

"Wanna go for a walk and get smokes and Dew at the Plaid Panty?"

"Well. I guess so."

We walked up to the corner and found charles at the counter as usual.

"Hi dewww." he said to me, all smiles.

"Hi Charles."

"Where's your partner in crime lately?" he asked, curious.

"Oh I don't know. Can I get a pack of reds with this?"

"Yup. You having hot chocolate tonight?"

"Nope."

"So. When are you going to let me give you that guitar lesson, Dew?"

"Oh I don't know about that. I told ya I've tried, my fingers don't want to do strings." I took my change and wandered out front to wait for him.

"You're not going to let him give you guitar lessons are you?" he asked as soon as we started to walk.

"I don't know." I said. It didn't seem like it was any of his business.

"Well. I know you're not stupid."

"huh?"

"So I can't figure out how you don't seem to know what's going on."

"Well. Ya got me there. I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"Is he charging you for a lesson?"

"No. I think he just wants a reason to hang out."

"Right. Hang out."  A silence stretched out between us awkwardly. "Wanna hear something funny?"

"Sure. I guess so." I said, relieved to be distracted from the uncomfortable on edge feeling I always had around him.

"When I was getting my money out I dropped a bud out on the counter. I didn't even know it was in there."

"Are you insane? You carry loose marijuana in your wallet?"  he laughed at my shock.

"So. Wanna smoke it?" he asked. The temptation was enormous. The thought that I might be able to relax, might be able to stop thinking, might be able to let go loomed. I stared at him next to me for awhile, deciding, ending with the thought; What's the worst that could happen? And why shouldn't I be like everyone else and stop thinking about everything so much all the time.

"Sure. If that's the only way to get rid of it, we better." We were in the entry way to the apartment, finishing our cigarettes when my gay meth-head neighbor heard us and came out, eager to chat. We both rolled our eyes and made it clear we were about to go inside. Meth-head said he might come over in awhile, he had something to tell us and we nodded and figured he would forget and end up sweeping the parking lot again.

Shortly later I was high as a kite and lying on the carpet on the living room floor laughing my ass off at some crazy story meth-head was telling. I vaguely remember something about him getting caught dumpster diving and something about gay porn. Then Meth-head bolted, his boyfriend was going to be home from work any minute and would be pissed that he wasn't cleaning his apartment.

He was sitting on the couch smiling at me lying on the floor. "Look at you. You're relaxed." he said. "and you have my favorite thing in the world."

"What's that?" I asked him suspiciously.

"Pistol grip hip bones."

"I've never heard that before." I rolled up until I was sitting and leaned against the wall.

"I don't' believe that."

"I mean I've never heard it called that." I stared at him awhile and decided to just ask him.

"What were you in for?" he didn't pretend not to know what I was asking.

"I robbed a bank."

"You did not."

"Yup."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." He stared at me some more and I pretended to examine the hole in my jeans. "Dew(ed)?"

"Yeah."

"You should go to bed before I put the move on you." I looked up, startled. He was dead serious and I laughed at him.

"So? So what if you do? That doesn't mean anything will happen." I said

"Well. That may be but" he was absurdly confident and I could tell he thought something would happen "I'd rather it didn't happen while you're stoned."

"Then couldn't you just NOT put the move on me? Didn't we say we're just friends?"

"Well. I'm tired."

"Why didn't you just say so?" I tossed him his pillow and blanket. "Good night, Sandwich."

"Good night Dew(ed)"