Sunday, April 17, 2011

Northern Exposure - His Story (authored by the 'He')

thunk. his head falls against the inside of the door.

as he exhales he opens his eyes peering through the peep hole into the hallway.

“c’mon.. “ he whispers to himself. .. waiting. watching. terrified.

flustered with nerves and weightless. clearly out of control and positively
certain. adrenaline races around lighting strikes and through questions
without answers.

he’s afraid to close his eyes. if he looks away even for a second and misses her who knows what he really missed.

“c’mon.” he says allowed.. “how’d I get here?” he thinks.

it was probably 2 hours ago when he first noticed her looking his
direction. and not in a glancing way. in a ‘hold my gaze as long as you
like. i like it too.’ kinda way. probably an hour before that he’d
spoken with her. the normal small talk of sorts. be charming. be kind,
appropriate and nice. “be polite, and you’ll find out what you think
about somebody.” he’d heard before.

what he quickly noticed was that when she laughed, it felt like her hand had
touched his. looking in her eyes felt like a warm hug, and her smile
shot anything clever he could think of out of the sky. his interest was
peaked. and as the details danced closer to the edge of desire, he
realized that really... he knew nothing about her.

as part of his brain fantasized, another part strategized. another part
started to question and another part gave answers, until everything sat
in a giant mess in his mind. and then, smack dab in the middle of all
the half-plotting landed a shot of tequila.

huh?
he searched the table for an answer, yet the answer was at another
table. the oldest of old time gestures. he scoffs to himself at the
nerve of that fellow. he shrugs aside this feeling of unnecessary
jealousy. he goes back to his conversation with another person at the
table just long enough that when he looks back, she’s on her way over to
the table for introductions.

interesting.

the dozen or so futile ideas he had about how to walk out of this place
with his arm around her fell to the ground and exploded on impact,
burning his feet and making him forget how to walk. each thought rattled
quickly from one part of his brain to the next, as he tried harder than
ever not to show it. poker face.

the moment kinda hits him like the house lights at 2:15 AM. A signal
perhaps, who knows. Not him. Better he pays up, join the group and see
about getting home. There’s things to do. Practicality starts to filter
back through his mind.

But as it hits so does the jealousy. An old inclination. Maybe its the
feeling that you get get when something meaningful feels like its
getting shelved for something useless. or maybe he was just wrong about
what felt meaningful.

Fuck it. You got a plan? The only decent one is to get up and leave with
everybody and have her come with. Everyone else gets up to leave
naturally. he feels like an actor.

And then.. it all takes 5 seconds to change. 5 seconds to go from ‘would be
nice’ to ‘what do we do?’. she grabs her hat and jacket, and puts them
on the back of the seat next to him; not on her own back. she won’t be
joining him.

he tries to part the shallow sea of alcohol floating in his mind. his fist
clenches in his pocket. his eyebrow rises. does she know that he’s
thinking of her? would she do this if she did? the cold blast of the
night sky feels colder then it should. its tainted with a combination of
that which is certain and that which is uncertain. ‘what do i do?” does
he do nothing? the cavalry won’t be coming over the hill if she needs
them. there’s no rules out here. he realizes that he knows the tables
intentions more than he knows hers.

15 minutes have past.

sitting elbows on knees boots still on, feeling like he’s been throwing punches underwater.

16 minutes.

she’s an adult. what do i have a crush? why don’t you just relax and realize
that you only feel mad because you feel like you got beat at something.

17 minutes.

that’s ridiculous. beat at something? that doesn’t make any sense. you’re
concerned? sure. you’re infatuated? probably. how come? those eyes
perhaps...

18 minutes...

nope. not happening. can’t do it. no one will be there to help if she needs
it. if she doesn’t, then great. he’d rather upset her and have her safe
then sit like this and not know. selfish. he doesn’t care. he’s the
closest thing to a cavalry that she’s going to find if she needs one.
not a terribly secure feeling - but here we go.

convincing help isn’t difficult. away they go. one of a thousand situations could
play out, but he knows if she’ll be angry or happy to see him right
away. it’s a lovely night otherwise..

perfect timing or the only timing? a minute earlier may have brought about
challenges, from broken beers bottles to drunken negotiating. a minute
later could have brought panic. but there she is.. wrapping things up.
here we go. … get out.

one of them catches him eye to eye. he’s saying his goodbyes, or at least
now knows he should start to. chances are he wasn’t saying goodbye
before hand, but trying to find a way to say to good morning.

put together a pathetic ruse. she’s quick to come to her friends.

safe and sound as they say. he can take his boots off. exhale. minutes later the group is back together.

the magnetism is unmistakable. to his left he can feel her eyes. he wonders
if she can feel how badly he’d like to put his arm around her. he
wonders if it feels more awkward for both of them to not be pressing
closer to each other. he wishes they were alone. even for a second. he
wonders if she’ll try and find him later. or what she would say if he
tried to find her. what would he say? in this room of people every
little thing he wants to say or do would raise an eyebrow. except to
her. she’d understand. she’s thinking the same thing.

ding. elevator opens in the lobby.

1.

2.

217. He’ll never forget 217. 4 or 5 seconds go by with him trying to stare
at her long enough that she’ll read in his eyes that he wants her to
stay with him. her stare seems to say the same thing. “i’ll be sitting
against the inside of my door.” they both say. her door closes quietly.
his heart rate is jacked.

thunk. his head falls against the inside of the door.

as he exhales he opens his eyes peering through the peep hole into the hallway.

“c’mon.. “ he whispers to himself. .. waiting. watching. terrified.

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