i’ve got a story that’s almost finished…

Sunday, July 06, 2008 | 22:30

“… all i need is someone to tell it to”
-jimmy eat world

i may have mentioned to some that i’m writing a novel. people ask what it’s about and i tell them “well, it’s about a guy kind of like me in a city kind of like mine”. every day i seem to get more material for the book and get more inspiration to write. especially was the case this weekend with play-it-by-ear planning and awesome penthouse partying.

i was wandering through some old writings and am figuring out how to possibly fit this piece in. i wrote this about a year and a half ago when i was still trying to work through my last breakup. it was somewhat random but fully therapeutic.

my friend’s say i’m emo. in fact, a lot of them say this… but they’ve told me to embrace it. it’s in those times where i seem to be able to create the most…

///

this night probably couldn’t get any worse. he could tell that she was completely uninterested in him and that his salt and pepper chess game was soon to end in a stalemate. he chuckled to himself that the only consolation that she could probably find was that he wasn’t a psycho rapist. thankfully this was movie and a dinner instead of the other way around and at least the first couple of hours was spent without too much awkwardness, that is if you don’t count the couple making out in the next row up. at least someone was getting some, right? he asked for the check and was pleased to find that the salad she had barely even picked at somehow ended up costing more than his steak. perfect.

she climbed in as he held the door open for her. he hung his head down as he walked to the other side. and as soon as the handle clicked he could hear her gently sobbing. my goodness, was he really that awful to be around? he asked if she was ok and gave her a tissue to blow her nose. and when she had finally managed to stop the main of tears, her soggy eyes announced how badly she missed her ex-boyfriend. she said she just wasn’t ready to date yet. he thought of the ten thousand ways he could kill Ev for failing to mention that juicy little tidbit to him when she had set them up.

he drove her home in silence and thought about how he had become the bellboy of everyone’s emotional baggage, even this girl he barely knew. he imagined how fine life as a monk would be. no more blind dates. no more crying women. no more expectations. “good night, Sebastien. i had a really nice time.” no more lies. “good night, Kim. take care of yourself.” it wasn’t that he was insensitive. well, it partially was, but he had really become numb to the incessant chorus of stuff that would really never have been any of his business if people hadn’t made it so. he hadn’t even had time to worry about himself.

he hung his coat up and picked up the phone to call his sister, but he was sure Evelyn was fast asleep. she probably deserved to be jarred awake, but he placed the handset back as he tried to convince himself that she meant well. it was his fault for thinking his older sister had actually found someone that would take a liking to him anyway.

“it’s going to be a long, cold winter.” he turned up the thermostat. the heat would warm his small condo pretty quickly. he opened the fridge to reach for a beer, but had forgotten that he finished off the last night. “water it is.” why was he so sad? did he make himself this way? all the little knick knacks from restoration hardware and the z gallerie decor made home feel right. he had the suits, the ties, the bimmer. he had made a steady climb up the corporate ladder. only a couple rungs to go before there would be no more up. if everything was so right, why did he feel so wrong?

he would put tonight out of his mind. his coworkers all thought he was a stud. he couldn’t possibly shatter their rosy images of sweeping women off their feet under a parisian skyline with a sob story of how he couldn’t even get the desperate girl on the rebound to enjoy herself. he dreamed of starting over again. just like he had done in new york. just like he had done in chicago. he thought that seattle would be a nice place to settle next. you know… in a unabomber, log cabin in the middle of nowhere kind of way. why couldn’t he be happy? and why did it seem like everyone had forgotten him? or maybe he had gotten so lost in himself that everyone had simply walked away… impossible. he had always been the giver.

he popped an ambien as he stared at the ceiling. he told himself he’d never come back here. it had been eight years. not long enough. he could still smell her. he saw her silhouette on every street they had walked together… he hated eating where they ate, couldn’t drink what they drank together. how long had it been since he had a $2 pitcher?

the pill was beginning to set in. he turned out the light and buried his head under the covers. rain was starting to fall outside. he was glad the week was over. only a couple of more months before he packed up and tried to get another fresh start.

——

he was rudely reminded why he could only work wall street hours. he hated that there was no dimming switch to go with the morning sun. “my time, my rules,” was always his motto. maybe that’s why no one could ever put up with him. the fridge was calling his name and he dug out what any self-respecting, red-blooded, over-hyphenated, right-leaning, democrat would have for a saturday morning breakfast: leftover fried chicken and an apple out of his organic fruit box. the weekend journal was waiting outside the door.

“hello?”
“hi there Sara with no h. what are you up to?”
“watching arthur.”
“oh, ok. i’ll let you get back to that. mom home?”
“yes. MOOOOOOOOOOOOM!”

he loved the little brats that ran around his sister’s house. Evelyn had married a third-generation japanese-american, which meant that not only did Sebastien get along with his muscle car loving brother-in-law perfectly, the guy also had the right genes to make for some really gorgeous kids. Sara was such a little trouble maker and would always hang off of his leg as they walked down the street. she started calling him “uncle stupid” for a little while. he was sure she had gotten that from Evelyn somehow, and she could always get away with it because she said it with a smile. . and then there was little Zachary, the two year old with the giant glasses. he looked like a baby professor, but without all the smarts, since he had a way with bumping in to everything. uncle Seb would take him to his first ball game in a couple of years and he’d be playing tee ball in no time. on second thought, striking out at tee ball might be a bit traumatic for the tike.

“hey Ev. it’s me. i was thinking we could all grab lunch later.”
“oh, that sounds nice. we haven’t seen you in a couple of weeks. how did it go last night with Kim?”
“well, umm… we can talk about it later. pork store?”
“sure, what time?”
“let’s say 11:00 since i know you’ll show up at 11:30.”
“ok, you bastard. see you then.”

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