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All Good Things...

2008-04-02

WARNING! The following is sappily romantic. I make no apologies for this, it's what really happened-I swear. Somewhat ironically (or perhaps worryingly) I'm not able to lie in fiction as well as this; however I am able to write non-fiction using fictional techniques. Go figure. Regardless I love my girlfriend, and I'm not embarrassed to say it, even if I sometimes get annoyed with her.  For example my utter inability to convince her Hillary Clinton may in fact be the physical incarnation of the anti-Christ. For some reason she seems still convinced she's a fundamentally honest and good person. Sheesh.

End of Rant.

Emma'd dyed her hair back, and as stated last time, I couldn't be happier. That happened Sunday.

Tuesday was the day that Emm finally emerged from the plaster cocoon that had surrounded her leg for the past five or so weeks. Donnie and I or course ribbed her about the hairy drumstick that was soon to see the light of day all the way to the hospital. That is until she got sick of it and started giving me withering half-serious ‘I will break up with you looks', and I stopped.

I'll spare you the sordid details, but suffice to say it was indeed hairy, and she insisted on being taken somewhere to shave-especially as she'd come wearing shorts.

We decided to celebrate after that, for the dual reasons of her finishing her studies and the healing of her leg. Actually, I think we'd already celebrated that first one, but no matter. Hell I remember when I finished college; I drank solidly for a week and a half. Hold on, that's not strictly true; o.k. substitute ‘finished' with ‘I was', and ‘week and a half' with ‘the whole time'. Much better.

Donnie suggested we go to Max's (who owns the bar I've been working at) place outside of town-which had a pool.  Not that that was a factor or anything...oh who am I kidding; Emma'd been itching to go swimming since the second week after she broke her leg. Anyway Maxie'd been supposedly outta town all week, so we decided to borrow his digs on the down-low. This came to mean Donnie hurdling the fence leading to the pool, and unlocking the gate to let us in. we went inside and proceeded to start drinking the poorly made sangria we'd brought because Emma ‘felt Hispanic'.

O.k. Stop. So we'd actually planned it the day before. We'd decided to make this thing happen Monday , which is why we'd made the sangria the night before, not realizing amidst the excitement that none of us in fact knew how to make sangria. Apart from the fact that it contained red wine (and presumably vodka).

Anyway, there we were armed with sangria, that if lit would've been like a Molotov cocktail. The other two swam, while I stayed outside the pool and they gently mocked me. I always feel awkward admitting this (though I don't know why), but I can't really swim. Oh I've been in pools lots of times, and I can stay afloat so I'm not really in danger of drowning, but I'm just not comfortable in deepish water.

We spent most of the afternoon getting gently toasted on the volatile brew and talking b-s. It was like we were all the same age for once, rather than two older guys and a college age girl (or as Jack Nicholson calls it ‘Saturday').

It was nice.

Later in the afternoon Donnie succumbed to ‘acute sangria poisoning', and decided to lay down on a pool recliner with his hat over his face. Emma then tried to coax me into the water with her, but ultimately in vain. Eventually she compromised and wound up sitting with me on the steps to the pool.

I put my arm over her and she felt simultaneously wet and warm to touch. She cocked her head to one side and rested it on my shoulder. I felt closer to her than I had before, which made what I was about to do tough.

(I told you this'd get sappy).

She seemed adrift, with a puzzled or perhaps thoughtful look on her face.

‘Something wrong,' I asked.

‘No, just thinking.'

‘Okay...something on your mind?'

‘I'm just thinking about what I'm going to do now.'

I hadn't told her about the internship thing at this stage. I thought awhile before shrugging and saying;

‘Do a masters degree.'

‘Did you do masters?' She said taking her head up off my shoulder.

‘Of course not, it would've been a complete waste of time.'

‘But I should do one,' she giggled. ‘I think I see a flaw in your advice.'

‘That doesn't mean you shouldn't do it.'

‘I don't want to do that anyway. So what are you going to do?'

She used the singular, but it came across as a joint thing. Perfect.

‘Oh I'm heading back east, that ship's sailed,' I said matter of factly. ‘Why?'

She seemed a little taken aback by this; as if I'd said we should break up and that the last half a year had just been for kicks. Of course I was deliberately trying to put her on edge; it was after all April Fools'.

‘Uh...am I supposed to join you?'

‘If you like. It's your decision if you want to stick this thing out. If not it's o.k. I'll get over it, believe me.'

‘Are you trying to dump me?'

‘Maybe?' I said noncommittally.

She started looking more hurt and confused, like maybe she'd even cry. She turned away from me and slid away.

‘Jeeze you're taking this hard; you know you're not making this any easier.'

‘Shut up,' she shot back avoiding my gaze.

‘Hey Emm. Just look at me a minute, I've got something I need to tell ya. Please?'

She turned sheepishly and waited for a response; ‘yeah?'

‘Gotcha. April Fools'.'

She looked at me with the same withering look as earlier, before saying; ‘you dick.'

She began splashing me with the water, soaking me, before dragging me off the steps and into the water, resulting with her falling on top of me.

After some time I managed to completely keep my head under water (she kept dragging me back under) and made my way to the side of the pool and propped myself up against it. She followed me over.

‘That was fun,' she laughed.

‘If you say so.'

‘So that was all crap then?'

‘Pretty much, yeah.'

‘So you're not going back east?'

‘Oh no that's true.'

‘So about us...?'

‘Well I was waiting for the right moment to tell you, but I've arranged for an internship for you in New York, if you‘re interested...I mean its shit work and the money's for bunk but...'

I noticed she hadn't said anything.

‘You're not interested...? What is it?'

She grabbed me and kissed me. She tasted vaguely of pool water, but I didn't care.

‘You're like the best boyfriend ever.'

‘See I'm going to remember that you said that the next time I screw up.'

‘I figured you might,' she said with her head on my chest.

‘You know, I know I don't say this enough or anything, but I love you.'

‘Actually you hardly ever say it.'

‘That's another way of putting it I guess. Anyway I_'

‘Shhhhh,' she said putting a finger to her lips. ‘I love you to.'

(Bleurrrgh!)

 

 

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