by Novo Dé
“Ok, good answer, definitely on track there.”
And to end the holy-trinity of pop culture…
“Favorite Book?”
“I don’t have a favorite book.”
“Really? C’mon, everyone has a favorite book.”
“Well I don’t.”
“We’re gonna have to change that.”
“Guess so,” she says with a spunky turn of her head. “Maybe it’s that…I just…haven’t read your stuff yet.”
“Well if you play your cards right, I may be able to give you early access…”
“And what do I have to do for early access?”
And I pause, followed by a ‘hmm’ sound with my throat.
“Just. Continue to be your lovely self and laugh at my dumb jokes.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Man. My mind was definitely startin’ to go down the gutter—”
“They all do,” I say with a smile, Juliet returning with one of her own, our chemistry glistening.
“So do you always talk to girls this way? Just rapid fire? The lightening round all the way through?”
“Well, I mean, I am on a time crunch here; Do you always start dates with a riddle?”
“Ok ok, fair enough. Touché Touché.”
And the server brings over the appetizer and our libations. ‘That was quick,’ we both mouth to each other.
“Are you two ready to order?” He says.
“You go first; I still needa…” Juliet says to me, nodding.
Our conversation glided so smoothly I hadn’t even had a moment to look at the menu myself.
“Ok,” I say to both Juliet and the server.
I then finger through the menu to find the first Chef’s Choice option.
“I’m gonna take this ah, ah, one, the Fettuccini Primavera.”
“Excellent choice sir. And for you ma’am?”
“The ‘Penne Alla Cajun’ please.”
“Excellent choice as well. I’ll put these in right away,” and he takes our menus and exits.
A short pause then ensues as we both think about how to get the conversation back on track. I then look at her drink and then back at her.
“Y’know, the drink a person orders says a lot about who they are.”
“And what does mine say about me?”
I pause, and then look at her drink again, and then back at her, and then at the drink again, and then back at her.
“I’m gonna say…that you’re…easy-going, with a touch of class of course.”
She then pauses, shows a me a very subtle smirk, and then begins to shake her head ever-so-gently.
“And I’m gonna say…that you’re…so full of shit,” and we begin to laugh. Things are going to indeed be so much different with this one. This one is definitely special. “Does that actually work on other girls?”
“I mean, sometimes,” I say laughing, with her following shortly behind.
“Well not with this one. You’re gonna have to try a little harder than that.”
Clearly a smart one too.
“I’m up to all challenges that the evening has to offer.”
“Good. Cause there’s more to come. And no more lines ok?”
“No more lines, got it.”
“Alright then. So I guess now it’s your turn to be in the hot seat. Tell me Mr. Writer…what’s your favorite movie?”
“The Land Before Time,” I dart with a touch of sarcasm.
“Oh c’mon—”
“Ok ok really – Probably, ‘The Wizard of Oz.’”
“Classic.”
“Definitely.”
“Favorite song?”
“Just like you and literature, I’m still lookin’ for the right one to call ‘favorite’ there.”
“Ok, favorite artist then?”
“Probably…Dylan.”
“Could never get into him.”
“The man polarizes everyone; ya either love ‘em or ya hate ‘em.”
“And last but not least, what is your favorite book Mr. big-time writer?”
“Probably, ‘Alice in Wonderland.’”
“You’re sayin’ probably an awful lot; Are you sure? Because I’m not sure if you’re sure.”
“Yeah,” I say pausing. “You’re…probably right,” and we both laugh, chuckle. “There is one thing I’m addicted to…”
“Please tell me it’s ‘Bayou Darlings…’”
And I begin to nod ‘yes.’
“Oh my god, I love that show.”
“It’s a serious problem; I have a serious addiction. I can’t stop binging—”
“Me too, me too; it’s really startin’ take over my life.”
“So I take it ya got a little bit of a geek in ya huh?” I then prod.
“Definitely.”
“Me too.”
“Don’t we all at this point?”
“Definitely,” I say, mirroring her use of language. “Ok, enough with the lightning round…just tell me more…about you.”
“Well what do ya wanna know?”
“Everything,” I say with earnest. “Where you grew up? How many siblings you have? Just stuff like that.”
“Don’t think we can go over everything tonight.”
“Well, we can try. Let’s make it interesting. Let’s start near the end; How bout, you tell me, how bout you start by telling me something crazy you’ve done in your life.”
“Like a crazy story.”
“Yeah, like a crazy story. Doesn’t have to be real bad or anything.”
“Ok, but only if you tell me one.”
“Deal.”
“Alright, well ah, in undergrad, I discovered that I was a bit of a kleptomaniac…”
“Alright, ok.”
“Never wanted to steal anything major though. Would feel too bad, but little stuff, sure, and never from an actual store, but something like a party, for instance, now that was always fair game. And I had no shortage of party invitations from my sorority—”
“Sorority girl?”
“Yep, I was in a sorority. And what I would do was, when I’d go to a frat party or somethin’, I would find somethin’ little…a refrigerator magnet here, a poster there…and just pocket ‘em.
Soon, I found myself with a lot of stuff, and no idea what to really do with any of it. Until. Until my girlfriend threw an idea my way that was the perfect solution to organizing all my new found things.”
“Which was?”
“Wait for it, wait for it. Each year, my sorority hosted the largest Christmas party of the season, and it was my turn to decorate the Christmas tree,” she says, pausing with a smile, with one from me following soon behind as I begin to see where this is going. “And you wouldn’t believe how popular the Christmas tree was that year, just one boy after another making the rounds to it, and for some, seeing a little bit of their lives in the limbs.”
“You made ornaments out of the—”
“Exactly. Most of ‘em had no idea what they were lookin’ at. Others saw it as a coincidence. And the very few, they realized what they were lookin’ at was indeed their long lost little thing. And then a few of those few, actually figured out what happened, and tracked me down. I felt pretty popular that night, kind of in a good way and a bad. Luckily, no one got mad. But. A lot of them did get even. I lost a lot of easily replaceable things that night. Including my favorite hairbrush. Man do I miss that hairbrush.”
“That’s pretty good.”
“There’s more,” she says, pausing, adding suspense. “What came of that, began a tradition of frats and sorority playing a game with all of their respective parties, each one stealing something fun from the other, and then having to host a party to steal it back, and so on and so forth. And the game…spread like wild fire…and now all of the Greek life I left behind does it.”
“Didn’t know I’d be amongst a living legend tonight.”
“That’s right,” she says w
ith another smile. “Ok. You’re turn.”
“Ok, are you ready?”
“I’m ready?”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Ok, in high school, me and a couple of my buddies, planned and executed a fun little excursion through a local mall – we decided to go streaking – and tried to make sure we had everything in place before doing so, but of course, nothing goes as planned.”
“What happened?” she says with attention, genuinely intrigued with how the events unfolded.
“It started in the bathroom. It was three of us. Each with our own bag. We stripped down to our birthday suits. The clothes went into the bag, and out came the masks we wore.
Now mind you, this was a team effort. We had one guy watch, mark, and communicate the routes of the security guards; his job was to essentially let us know when to go. We had another guy filming the whole thing. And then we had a pair of girls in a SUV, waiting for us at our exit as our getaway.
Back in the bathroom, we had a little pep talk first; got ourselves hyped up. And as soon as our watch guy gave us the green light, it was game time. We had a route planned out as well. It was essentially us jogging and weaving through the large interiors of the mall, from one end to the other.
Now here’s the catch: there was a short way, and a long way, and we all agreed on the short way, but when it was show time, the more wild one of our bunch decided to take the long way, and show his twig and berries a little longer. He later said it was because he loved seeing the looks on people’s faces. Just. Couldn’t get enough of it I guess.
I was actually the first one out. But to do so, I had to go down a crowded escalator. And for some reason, I found myself being very polite. ‘Excuse me,’ ‘Scuse me,’ ‘Scuse me,’ as I made my way down, and it only took one woman to turn around and see my naked body, and scream bloody murder at the sight. And that one scream…unfortunately…alerted the guards.”
“Oh shit.”
“My other friend got to the SUV soon after, but the wild child, nowhere to be found. And almost collectively we asked, ‘Where’s Cole? Where’s Cole?,’ and through breathy exhalations, my friend began to paint a picture. ‘…as being chased…we have to….we have to…go…go…we gotta go…he’ll get here…start…’ and soon as he said that, we all looked at the large glass door exits, and saw Cole, running for his life, with two security guards close on his tail.”
“Jesus—”
“Alrighty,” and our server enters the scene again, breaking the momentum of the story. They always do this. Always coming in at the wrong time. But of course they don’t know that. “Alright, the Cajun for the lady and the Primavera for the gentleman. Anything else I can get you two?”
“No, no, I think we’re good. Thank you,” and the server smiles, nods, and exits. “Well, this looks great,” I say looking up at Juliet, a look of bewitchment on her face, her eyes slightly flared, her mouth slightly open.
“So what happened, what, what happens!?” She exclaims.
“Oh right. We start to roll forward, leaving the door open for him. He crashes through the exit doors, makes it to the SUV door, and has to jump in as we’re speeding off. I mean, he barely made it in. And then it’s just something out of a movie, where, as we’re speeding off, we look back to see the two security guards panting in the middle of the road, having to watch us as we make it out scot-free.”
“Jesus. So nothin’ else happened? No one got caught?”
“We all made it. Even went back to the mall that night to see a movie, not one person the wiser.”
“Now that’s a good story,” and Juliet begins to dig in, me following shortly behind.
“Why thank you ma’am.” I say looking up. “And there’s plenty more where that came from, if you ever want to hear more.”
“I may have to take you up on that.”
“So how’s your ‘Cajun’ there?”
“Oh it’s good. More importantly, how’s yours first-timer?”
“I’m definitely startin’ to become a believer. I may have to make you take me here again.”
And I smile, and she returns, the date moving on into auto-pilot, clearly a success, especially now that we’ve found a comfortable place with each other.
Our place.
And the evening, the conversation continues to move along, effortlessly, much like her beauty, from one horizon to the next, from one laugh to the next, from one smile to the next, both of us genuinely enjoying the other’s company, without any additional need to act or pretend or deceive.
I don’t want the evening to end in fact. But all good things must have an end unfortunately.
“Save room for desert?” The server eventually asks.
And Juliet looks at me for a just a split second to tell me her thoughts on the matter before taking the lead once more, but before she can get a word out, I cut in.
“We’re gonna go with the cheesecake. Two spoons,” I say with a nod.
“How did you know—”
And I simply give her a smile as a response.
We enjoy the dessert, and when the check comes, I begin to reach for it, and she counters with a shake of her head ‘no.’
“No sir.”
“It’s ok, it’s my treat. The night’s been lovely; it’s the least I can do—”
“Uh uh, nope.”
She insists we go ‘Dutch,’ splitting the check down the middle, and insists, and insists.
“Alright, Dutch it is,” I finally say, giving up.
“Thank you good sir. But you’re right. It was a lovely night.”
And I simply nod. Still don’t want the evening to end however, which I can feel her feeling as well, so we take our time leaving the restaurant, and making it to the car, and up to my door, so we can continue our banter, our playfulness, our connection, with each passing syllable, each passing second.
Eventually, we return, and I can’t help but make one last ditch effort to continue.
“Couldn’t convince you to come in for a nightcap?”
And Juliet smiles.
“Probably best we call it a night right here; I have to get up early tomorrow.”
“Of course. Of course, I understand.”
“But before I leave, I am going to need something…”
And we both pause, and stare deep into each other’s eyes, connecting one last time without words.
“…You never made your guess…” she finally says, breaking the trance.
“Right right. Umm. Ok. Let me see here,” I say stalling a bit longer. “So you’re clearly a leader type; Like to take charge. Your favorite movie is a children’s animated tale, so you’re a bit of a young-at-heart type as well, but you also like Prince and had a bad girl phase, soooo, there’s equally an intellectual, yet adventurous side in there too. I’m gonna say…some sort of teacher…or educator…or….”
And Juliet slowly begins to shake her head ‘no.’
“I’m gonna take that as a no…”
“Sorry.”
“Guess…this means goodbye then…”
And Juliet slowly begins to shake her head ‘no’ again.
“No…”
“No?”
“Not goodbye.”
“Does this mean I get another guess…”
“I am a believer…in second chances; clearly you need a little more information, y’know, to make a better, educated guess as to what I do. Plus you’re pretty easy on the eyes. You’ll get it on the second try…or maybe the third…or—”
“Hope you’re right,” I say with a smile.
“I’m always right. Plus, who’s gonna give me early access to that book of yours.”
“Very true. So I guess this just means…goodnight then…”
“Guess so.”
“Well then…goodnight…Juliet,” I say, looking at her lips, not a shift, a turn with my body language, my body still positioned right in front of hers.
“Goodnight
…Tybalt,” she says, holding her position as well, her eyes rolled up toward mine, the tension between us great, her posh lips slightly parted, in a way that holds me in another trance. God, I can’t stop staring. Her, now focusing in on my focus, deciding soon after to very seductively bite her lower lip, in a clear attempt to drive me crazy, and it does just that.
I lick my lips in effect.
“Man I really want to kiss you,” I finally blurt, which brings another pause to our moment, and a smile on her face.
She holds her smile and begins to slowly walk backwards. I hold my position as the distance grows.
“Not tonight Romeo,” she finally says, shifting toward her car. “But if you’re second audition goes well, you probably will.”
She then blows me a kiss, and before she makes her final descent into her car to end the night, she turns to me one last time.
“And try to leave your phone on from now on Mister.”
January 13th, 2051
“…arted using every day; That’s when things got real bad.” I look down. “When my life, my reality, and the fantasies, began to blur…”
I can’t help but think about the kid when I think of those days.
“I lost control of the addiction. Sometimes I’d take up to five, ten a day, wake up in some strange place, sometimes in an ‘Anonymous House,’ no idea how I got there, losing days, sometimes weeks at a time. Fall break, before school started up again, was a downward spiral, the downward spiral.”
“I take it Juliet began to take notice?”
“Oh yeah, she did more than just notice, but she didn’t know what to do; didn’t know what to do with me. So we did the only thing we could do: clash, and fight, and argue, and just, disassociate.
We were just miserable, and for some reason, we sought out to make each other miserable as well,” stopping, I think of Juliet. “During that time…God, I can’t tell you how many times I killed her. Just in terrible ways too. But she just wouldn’t stay dead. It was just one resurrection after another, every day, a new Juliet reborn—”
“The hallucinations?”
“At their peak.”
“What else did you see?”
“CHARLIE. I saw a lot of CHARLIE in those days. In the flesh. Or at least what I’d think he’d look like. He would try to help me. Sober me up. Y’know talk me down.”