Guess Who? Shouldn't Be Hard.
“You can't play guitar.”
I looked up, then back down at the hollow body acoustic in my hands. I smiled. “Yea, but again, it's my head, so really, get off my back.”
“Fair enough.” They sat down. “So, another one of these? That's three in three days.”
I strummed a few chords, they sound pretty good, at least in my mind. “Yea, and shockingly, things have pretty drastically improved since then. I mean, yea, I skipped work today, but that was more a consequence of shitty sleep timing and an upset stomach than stress induced.”
“You would've been able to get up if you had been better rested.”
“Fair,” I admitted. “But tonight should be a lot better, I'll have three square meals tomorrow and finish out the work week, which means I'll get paid eventually, which is a good thing for my life. Still don't know what's going on with the car, but for now, everything seems more or less settled.”
“It seems to me that there's a lot of stuff that isn't settled. Are you sure about that?”
“You worry too much, you know that?”
“I don't even know who I am. Have you decided who you're talking to today?”
“Take your pick.” I responded. How was I supposed to know who I was talking to? There were so many options.
“Well, I know who I am.” she said, and I looked up. I nearly dropped the guitar.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“Why?” she asked, looking at me with those eyes that haunted me night after night. I shook my head.
“Because you said no. Because I tried to hard. Because I loved you, a lot. You wouldn't even give it a chance. You shouldn't be here. I moved past you.”
She pushed a lock of black hair back over her ear and smiled. “You can say that, but you know that you still think about the what if's. If you had the chance, you'd try again.”
“Not over Xela,” I said seriously, and was a little surprised to realize that I meant it. “You're the past. I don't have anything with you - no matter how much I loved dancing with you. I still think you gave me a bum deal though. You could've at least given me a chance - one date even. If it didn't work out, then it didn't.”
“You loved me.” she said, and somehow, it sounded like an accusation. I looked back down at the guitar and placed my hands on one chord, then another, then a third without strumming.
“Look, can you just go? You're not part of my life anymore. You have your own. You're part of Providence, and I'm not. I'm back on Long Island - and my heart is...traveling. Either way, it doesn't involve you.”
“Fair.” she said. “I'll go then. Goodbye.”
I put the guitar down and walked away from her, even as she turned to leave herself. This wasn't how this conversation was supposed to go.
I looked up, then back down at the hollow body acoustic in my hands. I smiled. “Yea, but again, it's my head, so really, get off my back.”
“Fair enough.” They sat down. “So, another one of these? That's three in three days.”
I strummed a few chords, they sound pretty good, at least in my mind. “Yea, and shockingly, things have pretty drastically improved since then. I mean, yea, I skipped work today, but that was more a consequence of shitty sleep timing and an upset stomach than stress induced.”
“You would've been able to get up if you had been better rested.”
“Fair,” I admitted. “But tonight should be a lot better, I'll have three square meals tomorrow and finish out the work week, which means I'll get paid eventually, which is a good thing for my life. Still don't know what's going on with the car, but for now, everything seems more or less settled.”
“It seems to me that there's a lot of stuff that isn't settled. Are you sure about that?”
“You worry too much, you know that?”
“I don't even know who I am. Have you decided who you're talking to today?”
“Take your pick.” I responded. How was I supposed to know who I was talking to? There were so many options.
“Well, I know who I am.” she said, and I looked up. I nearly dropped the guitar.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“Why?” she asked, looking at me with those eyes that haunted me night after night. I shook my head.
“Because you said no. Because I tried to hard. Because I loved you, a lot. You wouldn't even give it a chance. You shouldn't be here. I moved past you.”
She pushed a lock of black hair back over her ear and smiled. “You can say that, but you know that you still think about the what if's. If you had the chance, you'd try again.”
“Not over Xela,” I said seriously, and was a little surprised to realize that I meant it. “You're the past. I don't have anything with you - no matter how much I loved dancing with you. I still think you gave me a bum deal though. You could've at least given me a chance - one date even. If it didn't work out, then it didn't.”
“You loved me.” she said, and somehow, it sounded like an accusation. I looked back down at the guitar and placed my hands on one chord, then another, then a third without strumming.
“Look, can you just go? You're not part of my life anymore. You have your own. You're part of Providence, and I'm not. I'm back on Long Island - and my heart is...traveling. Either way, it doesn't involve you.”
“Fair.” she said. “I'll go then. Goodbye.”
I put the guitar down and walked away from her, even as she turned to leave herself. This wasn't how this conversation was supposed to go.