"black and white..."

"Your ability to state the obvious is nothing short of astounding..."

"Oh, my god, is it really Sunday morning?"
She looked at me over the top of the newspaper and shook her head.
"Afternoon, actually. You seemed to have enjoyed yourself last night. Do you remember anything, or shall I recount the events of the evening to you?"
"I'm not so sure I really need to know. I remember something about it, I think. Was there alcohol involved?"
"Oh, yeah. For someone who doesn't drink, you were quite resolute in your quest to down as much as possible in the shortest time allowed. Do you remember you and Jake having a 'who can puke first' contest?"
"Uh, no... who won?"
"Neither. Your friend Oliver beat you both. I think he's still passed out in his van in the parking lot. Are you ok? You look sort of... green. And wavery. You're definitely wavering."
"I need coffee."
"The pot's on the stove. Be careful"
She turned her attention back to the Sunday LA Times and I fought my way uphill to the kitchen and wrestled the cabinet over the stove for a mug, poured some lukewarm coffee and walked on pillows and broken glass back into the living room. I sat, fell, moved in a gravity induced direction onto the couch next to her, put my head back and wondered why the few pictures and decorations she had on her walls weren't flying off in all directions, with the room gyrating like it was.
"Did I do anything to piss you off?"
"Oh, god, what?"
"You embarrassed the crap out of me, if you want to know."
I wasn't so sure I wanted to hear about this. I only made her mad once before, it was something stupid and she was over it immediately, but making her angry was not high on my list of things I ever wanted to do. There were people that I'd go out of my way to tweak, and it really didn't matter, but with her, it mattered. A lot.
"Ok, you know I'm sorry for what ever it was, but I'd really like to know what I did."
She folded the paper over, put it and the pencil she was using to fill in the Sunday crossword puzzle on the table next to her and she shifted herself sideways to face me. She was wearing her usual nothing. Her famous black hair was wild, hanging all over the place and in her face, and the whites around those dark brown eyes were a bit blood shot, apparently she had more than a few herself last night. I steeled myself for what I thought was to come by putting my cup down, turning to her and taking her hands in mine.
"Ok, what did I do?"
She stared at me so hard it made the back of my numbed head hurt.
"Well, you were holding court at the kitchen table, slamming down shots of tequila and smoking one of those cheap cigars that Jake sells, when someone brought up the subject of sex and you sat there and told everyone that I get the same look on my face when I'm pissed off that I do when I'm having an orgasm... and that sometimes you didn't know which was which. Can you tell which is which right now?"
The radio in the kitchen was on, tuned to a Mexican AM station, as it usually was on Sunday mornings. Cielito Lindo, performed by a Mariachi band, heavy on the brass, was playing, the vocals performed by a woman who sounded like she might have been at the party last night, too many tequilas and too many smokes. I dropped my eyes from hers and stared at her belly button. There was a brand new hickey next to it. I hoped I did that, but I didn't remember for the life of me if I did.
"Right now, yeah, I can. I'm sorry. Really."
I looked back up and she was holding back a laugh.
"You're such a dick. Really."
"Well, it's the truth. You do that squinty eyed, stuck out bottom lip thing. Sometimes I think all I'm doing in bed is pissing you off..."
She draped her arms over my shoulders and looked right into my eyes.
"Maybe you are. Maybe sometime I'll tell you the truth. Right now, you need a shower and some more coffee. You go take a shower and I'll put on a fresh pot, ok?"

I felt a bit better after standing in the scaling water for a while. Man, I wish there was a window in that bathroom, it was like being is a steam room. I got as dry as I could, put on my steam dampened clothes and walked out into the hallway to be greeted by the aroma of some strong, fresh brew. I pulled another mug full and padded out into the livingroom, where she was back at the crossword. I eased myself back down next to her and blew across the coffee.
"Feel better?"
"Yeah, a bit. Thanks for the coffee."
"Sure. Hey, what's a six letter word for 'regret'?"
"Uh... 'regret'?"
"You are such a dick..."


Anonymous majorfactor said...

"Walked on pillows and broken glass" never heard that expression before.

6:50 PM  

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