The Date Before The Storm
"You're asking me to go to a hockey game with you?" I laughed. 'You're...asking, me, to go to a hockey game with you?' and my hand instinctively moves to my collarbone longing for a pearl necklace to grab in outrage. The words were abstract concepts. In my state of mind, they meant nothing, but were funny together nonetheless.
Eriana didn't respond, her eyes lost in silent drunken lamentations that studied the wooden floor with a soft, almost tender care. Her small hands moved to cover her mouth as her eyebrows curled ever so slightly... My eyes darted around the room looking for a container.
In desperation, I search the kitchenette. The thought of taking the empty vodka bottle with blunt roaches swimming inside was as quickly considered as it was dismissed. I had one shot; she had one drag. I don't have a problem but she does. My eyes jump from object to object: the plates and utensils neatly laid on the counter rack, gray cooking utensils of the rubber variety lay over the counter too. Everything I considered was ill-shaped to hold what my friend seemed ready to release into this world.
"Alexader," My desperate hunt is interrupted by a familiar calling. "I know you don't care about sports, but..." Her eyes, were glossy like those of a fish and her tiny body wobbled left and right. I moved closer to help her but she moved away whimsically. She threw her arms around my neck; her body touching mine. I am paralyzed. "I can't go alone. I need you. Handsome you. Pretend to be my boyfriend?"
Her hand snaked out, grabbing mines. Moving backwards I stumbled, overwhelmed by the sudden unwanted contact. Her hands were feverishly hot and sweaty and her breath smelled of vodka and hotdogs. I landed with an ungraceful thump on her bed, wrinkling the flower-patterned sheets on my fall. Eriana loomed over me, all five feet of her majestic self. She was wearing a vibrant green dress that showcased her brown skin in the space between fabric. Patches of alcohol and ketchup had made their way to the dress, increasing the cleaning price. She had arranged her black curly hair in a puffy tail when she had decided to fight a bartender over a bottle that wasn't hers.
"Eriana," I tried to say calmly although I felt annoyance brewing deep inside, "I love you, but... not like that, never like that. I..." my hands moves left and right in a familiar motion as my tongue pushes the inside of my right cheek to the same rythm. Her face transformed, now understanding my hesitation. Shame and panic battled for dominance in her facial expressions. She cuts me off mid-animation, her words spilling out in a frantic rush. "No, no, no,oh fuck! sorry. no romance! Just friendship! Leftist eeh said, and I got ghosted'm! Please, Alexander! All I have going for me right now is hockey, hombre!! It is just a favour." Her palms together and the most disturbing puppy eyes I've ever seen made me reconsider my disdain for the sport. Her unfocused eye smiled at my pursed lips; he own expression lighting up with expectation. I fill my lungs with alcohol-infused air, trying to remain in control, to reject a future of torturous boredom. To avoid spending my free time following motions I don't understand surrounded by people that shared the same passion for a sport where I was an outcast. I released trapped in my lungs -- and my mind presents me an image of Eriana going to the game alone, having a bad time... I close my eyes and nod. Took her a second to process my acceptance but the moment it clicked she began celebrating with a silly dance, just to stop mid movement to projectile vomit all over the floor.
"What do I get from this deal?" I said, gesturing her to go near her bed and out of my way. I try to ignore the acrid smells as I look for a mop and bucket to remove the pile of yellow mush looming over the floor.
"I'll pamper you like my own bitch all night," Her eyes are already drooping. I help her sit down on her bed and she plops like a doll, barely sentient. " We are eating sushi then, and you pay." She comes to life just to wince at the idea and then die again. When drunk she loses her manners, her mind, her common sense but that stinginess remains through all; It is almost a force of nature. "Yes" she mumbles. Her poisoned body trembling at the idea of spending more than fifteen dollars in food.
The screeching of metal releases a babble sound. The glass lights up when the water reaches the rim reflecting the expensive white lamps floating across the room, bumping the heads of anyone tall enough to legally ride a roller coaster. `The devil really keeps his stronger soldiers close to home` I think to myself after making myself smaller just to move through. I open the bathroom cabinet and observe the three pill bottles inside, neatly organized one next to the other; I target the one labelled 'aspirins'.
"These are aspirins, right?" I ask, but she can barely conjure a thought. I leave the glass and the bottle next to her bed and pick up some of the stuff we stumbled with as we entered the apartment like two drunken bulls. She was a neat freak in the morning and freak freak at night and she would have to face a holy battle with her demons when the sun rise in the morrow.
I leave the apartment #17, closing the door behind and the world suddenly turns quiet. everyone is asleep except for me. The cicadas singing their songs to the night and the stars reflected on the landed windows as I descend. The sound of the wind outside serves me as a warning but I still feel the cold of the streets hit my spirit like a hammer as I free myself from the inside.
"Shit, I forgot to clean the vomit?" The thought hits me.
