there is nothing to see here, and that nothing looks back at us.
friday 7 hrs work, 2 hrs asleep, sat 10 hrs work, 5 hrs sleep, sunday 9 hours work. got home at 10ish. well, 11:30 i get a call, suddenly Mxxxxx is on her way over from the last night of lollapalooza. by this point i barely had the energy to walk, emergency energy reserves mostly tapped out by the weekend; i'm down to about 10%. okay. shower. i need a bedroom. Sxxxx is at work, but is due back around 1am.
she arrives looking like a complete mess. she's been drinking for two or three weeks straight, caught in both torrential downpours that happened yesterday, clothes all soaked, legs and feet bruised all to hell. she wraps herself around me the moment i open the door, and it's full minutes before we even make it upstairs into the apartment.
we curl up in his room, she tells me all about how she made fake death from above 1979 band passes, eventually just reverting to quietly laying in each others' arms. some time passes, during which i can't relax because i know we're going to have to vacate the bedroom soon enough. she's kissing my neck and all i can think about is the day i bought us rum and laid on the beach waiting for her only for her to call and say she's not coming, or fourth of july weekend when i told her she was all i had to look forward to and then she left town without a word to me, or when i did my reading and she said the night before that she'd swing by because she was going to be in the neighborhood all day anyway, and didn't.
she reads my mind, says, "i'm sorry if you hate me." the kissing stops, the arms wrap around me tighter.
"it happens," i reply, and hold her close. my shoulder starts getting wet. it's five minutes before Sxxxx comes home. she gets up, wipes her eyes, grabs her beer. i can still hear noise from the living room. "okay," i say; "i think i have a solution to this problem. go have a sit for a minute or two." she does, and i proceed to drag the mattress onto the back porch after throwing down some folded up cardboard boxes to keep things dry. it's warm, humid, mid-80s, reminds me of getting off the plane in florida close to midnight. the clouds are moving the wrong way. i retrieve her from the living room, where she's trying to talk to people who aren't particularly interested in talking back. she's hammered.
we retreat to the porch, which is surprisingly comfortable. her leg is resting across my lap, her fingers exploring my stomach. then fucking Sxxxx comes out, first to share a spliff, then winds up staying for a solid hour to tell us a small mountain of stories which i've heard before. she hasn't, shows interest, makes it worse. he won't shut up. or leave. my fucking god, was it not obvious when i pulled the mattress out to the porch that i was looking for fucking privacy? the one god-damned thing i'm guarenteed not to have in the house? instead i get regaled by the same stories about pierced dicks that i've been listening to for a year.
finally he leaves. she's exhausted. so am i, but i find the energy to give her a massage anyway. it's not the longest one i've ever given. she tries to give me one back, but i'm so tired my back is sensitive as hell. every touch tickles, makes my muscles spasm, seize, lock up. at one point i tense up so badly that i briefly pop a rib out of place. she stops before i have an aneurism.
sleep was surprisingly comfortable. i drifted awake to find her fingers unconsciously playing with my hair, then dropped back to sleep. the temperature stayed relaxed until the sun started coming up; by 9am we were both sweating, uncomfortable. i drag the mattress back inside, onto the couch i sleep on normally. of course, no sooner do we lay down than the rest of the house wakes up. the last of the house's weed gets smoked without me. she laments her apparently rain-destroyed phone, wanders youtube a while on my computer until, predictably, it overheats and dies. then she leaves, promising to be back later this week.
"so, see you in three months, right?" i reply.
she laughs. "yeah, probably more like ten."
"so next june?"
"maybe not 'til next lollapalooza."
i hold her until i can't anymore, and then she's gone.
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