This is part two. Read part one.
John tossed his keys on the end table and slammed the door behind him. Four hours. He was at that restaurant for four hours. Unimaginable. He lingered in the entryway, glancing around the apartment. No lights on. No sounds of television. Okay. It’s safe. He sighed and meandered lazily towards his room.
“Hey fucker, you kept her out pretty late don’t ya think?”
It’s not safe.
“Oh, yeah, well more like the other way around. She can talk, huh?” John scratched the back of his neck, his fingers gingerly working around a fresh mosquito bite.
“Yeah, I guess so.” Joey climbed up off of the couch and took his headphones off.
“Laying in the dark listening to music. That’s really emo of you.”
“Yeah.” Joey briskly walked past and went into his room, shutting the door behind him. John was left alone in the inky blackness. He let the evening roll around in his mind, including what had just happened. Was Joey really jealous? He had no reason to be, as far as he knew. Or did he know? No. He didn’t know anything. He’s clueless. There’s nothing to know. Who knows anything?
John felt a drop of sweat forming on his forehead. All this denial was stressing him, he thought. What denial, though? Honestly, there’s nothing to deny. He went out with a friend and had some dinner. They ate, they chatted awkwardly, they split the last breadstick, and then they parted ways. He hadn’t walked her to her car. The fact that they arrived separately was proof enough, wasn’t it? He didn’t take her out to the parking lot and press her against the side of her car or anything. There was no hug, not even a “friend hug.” No nervous laughter followed by awkward silence. No leaning in to–
“What the fuck are you doing, just standing around in the dark?” The lights in the living room clicked on, destroying John’s night vision. He snapped back to reality.
Joey stood in the hallway, staring incredulously.
“Sorry, I spaced out.” John rubbed his eyes, and tried to focus on something.
“Get your shoes on. Let’s grab some food, I’m fuckin’ starving.”
“I just got home from dinner! What time is it, like eleven?”
“At least ride over there with me, shit.”
“I’m gonna sit this one out, man.”
“Whatever.” Joey swept past him and headed out the door, leaving him alone again. It was way off base for him to pass up a chance to get out of the house. That was suspicious. He should be more careful.
Wait.
Why should he be more careful? It’s not like he’s under investigation for a murder. It was just dinner. There’s nothing going on. If he kept dwelling for so long on every dinner he had, he’d drive himself crazy. Of course, if he were crazy, maybe his life would be interesting enough to not have to dwell on dinner with a friend.
He finally got himself mobile, and headed towards his bedroom. A long, sleepness night of dwelling awaited him.
Read part three.
Tags: Narratives