One of Those People

(Brady)

The newest issue of Star Trek had been sitting on my pillow, waiting for me to open it and read it for the first time before I shelved it as a collector’s edition. I didn’t even get a chance to see any of it before my girlfriend Sarah Donavan walked in.

“You ditched for this stupid geeky thing?” Sarah asks as she points at the comic book that was my new treasure, which had now been the item that had offended her, as her ocean blue eyes meet mine hazel eyes.

“I didn’t ditch. I told you I would see you later. Besides, I got us two tickets so we could go on a date tonight. It’s my turn to pick, remember? So I picked that cheesy rom-com you wanted to see,” I tell Sarah as I leaned in to kiss her, attempting to fix the damage that I had apparently done when I offended her with this comic book.

“I don’t remember anything about a goddamned date, especially after you bailed on me,” Sarah tells me coldly. Her eyes never leaving mine, as she shows me that she meant it. Maybe, I didn’t say anything, as I had thought. I could come back from this, all the geeks in the science fiction movies do, so I’m sure that I could as well.

“I asked you if you wanted to go to a movie tonight. I asked right after geometry class,” I tell Sarah as I hope that she’d remember that, as I reach out to grab her hand to hold it. In my attempt to do so, she moves away, so I’m unable to reach or even touch her.

“You didn’t ask me anything. You just rather assumed, as you’re good at that,” Sarah half yells as she folds her arms across each other and looks out the window to the other apartments we’re facing, as I take into consideration how small my bedroom suddenly feels. I should tell her something else, but my brain seems to freeze as my anxiety takes control.

“I do ask you things. You never seem to listen when I do,” I blurted out as I start to pace the small space of my room; as I realize what I had just said can’t be taken back at any time. Once you say things like that, you can’t take them back. I pick at my lower lip as I walk up behind her, wondering what I should do.

“You really don’t. It’s bullshit. My boyfriend doesn’t ask his girlfriend what she might want to do? Or bring her flowers or candy? That’s what normal people in a relationship do. Just because your parents are getting a divorce, don’t think you have to take it out on me. That’s not how this works,” Sarah tells me as she keeps staring out the window, as I imagine she’s pretending it’s some other view than besides anywhere but here.

“That’s the thing. I clearly remember asking you out on a date today. It was for that new movie I wanted to see. I even volunteered to pay for the tickets and all that romantic stuff in the movies. Nobody decides to do the making out stuff; they save that for the boring girly movies, the one that no one wants to see,” I tell her how I really feel, even though I knew that I was losing every chance I had at now spending a few romantic hours with my girlfriend.

“That’s beside the point. I don’t want to see those geeky movies where you can figure out the world will get eaten by an alien in the first ten minutes. I want something fun. Hell, maybe even going to the park, holding hands, throwing popcorn at the geese, playing on the slides with the kids. That’s romantic,” Sarah tells me, justifying my lack in the romance department.

“Now, who’s the one saying bullshit? You don’t want any of that. You think you do because you think romance like that exists. Well, you know what? Romance doesn’t work like that; we both know that” I tell her as my anxiety kicks even more in gear, taking control, as it has me telling Sarah words neither one of us wanted to say, at least she didn’t want to say as I start pacing again as I wait for her to say something.

“You pace too much. You’re going to cause a draft or something, and I can’t think when you do that. It’s like a thing you have to do or something when you really don’t need to,” Sarah tells me, adding onto a reason for my anxiety to pile up; as I realize I really don’t want her to be there. The one who is supposed to my girlfriend is telling me I shouldn’t pace as I stuff my hands in my pockets; something else I do when my anxiety kicks into overdrive.

“I can’t help it. It’s something I do. It’s something I’ve done since before we started dating. It’s something I can’t shake,” I tell Sarah, as I lost track about what we even arguing about at this point, as I wonder if it was even worth coming back from it. We needed to separate and start fresh again. Figuring not to bother saying anything of it, I keep it in the back of my mind and remain silent.

“Maybe you should work on it. You really don’t need to pace,” Sarah tells me as I can tell she’s bound to leave sooner than later, as our argument wasn’t going anywhere at this point, so why pick up where we left off?

“I’m not stopping something I can’t control. Pacing helps me think,” I tell her as I’m suddenly not so sure I wanted her there anymore. I was sure I shouldn’t think about my girlfriend as someone I didn’t want around. She was someone I should have around.

“I never said you had to,” Sarah tells me as she finally moves away from the window. It was still a horrible view of the balconies belonging from all the apartments across from where we're now standing, and anything anyone did wouldn’t be hard to see. You could be nosy without trying to be nosy.

“You kind of did, though. I don’t tell you what you should do about your classes or hanging out with your friends. Not once have I said what you could and can’t do,” I tell Sarah telling her the truth, as she brushes some hair out of her eyes, as I wish we had never once had this argument since she had gotten here.

“I’m much rather sick of hearing this. I have homework to do and a test to study for tomorrow, so I’m heading home. I’ll try to talk to you tomorrow until you find something else you want to ditch me for,” Sarah tells me as she walks right by me without another word. Leaving me standing in front of the balcony view in my bedroom where she had been before she slammed the door.

I lay on my bed with the Star Trek comic book resting on my stomach, staring at the ceiling, wondering what I should have actually said. Maybe she was right; I did have to stop pacing back and forth. The thought running through my mind as I start once again picking at the corner of my lower lip the more I think of the matter. Resting my eyes to land on my Indiana Jones poster in the corner of my room as I had been bored of staring at the ceiling.

When that gets old, I got up and started pacing again.

Staring out the window, that’s where I see him. Someone I had never seen before. He was new, as I calculated who I remembered on all sides of the apartment. The boy standing there wearing all black like in those rock and roll albums. When did rock and roll boy become someone new? Why was I still staring at him? It wasn’t nice to stare, yet here I was staring at the boy in the apartment an alleyway away from my room. I try to turn my thoughts into how science works, but I can’t seem to do, as I find myself caught between wanting to know who this boy is and wondering at the same time if I had really wanted to find out who he was.

“Have you done your homework?” I hear mother asks as she walks in, breaking an invisible staring contest with the boy, as she must have opened the door without knowledge while doing so.

Not knowing what to say, because I was always worried about not having my homework in on time, I nod as she closes the door again, heading back to the living room with her tea in hand. I look again before worrying about everything but what I should worry about.