A Small Series of Snippets

Weeks had passed, and he just needed a break. A long one. He inwardly sent a silent prayer of thanks to God, any god who was willing to listen to someone like him, for Summer Break. In his freshman year of meeting his friends, Nancy included, he had promised one day that he would take them to his house. It wasn’t necessarily an invite to a party, but as the years went by in college, as everyone got exposed to the drunken feeling of loud music, alcohol, and drugs; as his parents started going to hotels and casinos without him, he didn’t want to waste everyone else’s Summer with a “little get together”. All he asked was that they didn’t break anything. He made his way through the living room of his house, a sea of people throwing their bodies around or at each other made it difficult. But he had to get out. He had to get space. Had to get air. The loud music was hammering at his skull while the smell of everyone’s perfumes and colognes was enough to give him a hacking cough. The glints and glares from the girls’ jewelry and clothing stunned him periodically like the flash grenades they use in COPS. And all he had to wash down the stinging taste of other people's vomit or the sourness of weed in the air was a cup of poorly mixed sangria someone had brought as a party favor. Once he was outside, he immediately closed the glass sliding door and immersed himself in a symphony of crickets playing for a light show of fireflies. The air was warm and blew away the fog of mixed scents in his head with the smell of fresh cut grass. He poured the rest of his sangria out onto the steps and watched as small flies gathered to lap at the drunken pieces of fruit.

Even the flies can have fun.

He turned to peer inside of his own house. Someone was on top of the kitchen counter dancing and pouring a bottle of vodka into everyone else’s mouths below them. On the couch that his family would watch TV and eat dinner together, a couple was all over each other and next to them someone was getting a lap dance. The sound of a thud caught his attention and he heard laughter as someone got up after stumbling down the stairs. Two girls holding each other and kissing without their shirts on kept throwing each other against the walls, refusing to let go of each other's lips. His friend Gary decided to cool them down with cups of ice poured over their heads, making everyone cheer. And in front of all the madness, he met the familiar face of his reflection, a glass brother of bloodshot eyes and unkempt hair. His cheeks appeared to sag off the bones of his face like flesh from a hook. And he looked like the saddest animal, left to die beaten and forgotten in the dark. He stared into the eyes of his glass brother, put the palm of his hand against his glass brother’s, and then a knock from the other side of the glass caught his attention. It was Nancy.

“What are you doing out here?” She asked after opening the door, he watched his glass brother fade away as the panes moved to instead reflect the milk drops of stars in the sky. “Looked like a total creep staring through the window of your own house. You’re not gonna murder us are ya?”

“Knowing you, you’d like that.”

He relished the sound of her laughter. It complimented the cricket’s song.

“I told you I didn’t like parties.” He said and heard a loud noise from behind her. Someone knocked one of his family picture frames off the wall, it was the one taken when his little sister was born.

“You and me both.” She revealed two rolled up joints from behind her back and handed him one as she stepped past him outside. “Man it’s so nice out.”

“Yeah. It is.” he replied, closing the glass door once again and meeting eyes with a newer, fresher glass brother. One with a smile. “I was surprised you even came. Your home is pretty deep.”

“Dad’s not home again. He’s unreliable, I was bored, and I missed you. You’ve been kind of distant lately.”

“What about your dog?”

“My brother can feed and walk Kugo.” They both moved to sit on some lawn chairs, she set them up so that they were side by side, arm rests touching. Then she pulled out a lighter and began to light her blunt. After that, she leaned the smoking embered tip toward him so that he could carefully light his own with her orange glow. Holding it in his lips, he leaned in and the both of them inhaled as they had done before. Leaning back in his chair, he felt her place her arm on top of his and lean her head against him. Her curly hair felt soft like a cotton filled cushion and smelled of apple blossoms. Her cheek bone pressed gently against his shoulder and the heat of her hand burnt through the sleeve of his hoodie. The glow of fireflies lit her face up in intervals and the moon shone in her eyes, making their color appear almost hazel.

“Do you have a ride?” he asked, “Your dad’s probably not going to pick you up from his girlfriend’s house, and even if he did he’d probably beat the shit out of me for getting you drunk and high.”

“He’s probably getting drunk and high too. That girl you saw fall down the stairs is my ride.”

“You can stay here you know,” he said before taking another pull and then exhaling “People around my neighborhood drive like shit, even when they’re sober. I wouldn't risk it.”

“I was just gonna camp out under your bed.” Her words carried with them trails of smoke and hints of laughter that strained past her perfect smiling teeth.

“You can sleep in it.” The words came out on their own without forethought and he quickly tried to recover. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“You’re sweet.” She whispered and held his arm tighter.

“Physical contact seems to always comfort you.” he chuckled nervously. His heart was quivering in his rib cage, even the weed couldn’t douse this level of anxiety. Once again, questions of doubt and mixed confusion popped up in his head.

“I like it. Sometimes it just feels nice to touch or be touched.”

Without saying a word, he slipped his arm out from under her and instead wrapped it around her, pulling her into him and she rested her cheek on his chest. He could feel her forehead warm his neck and he wondered if she could feel his blood rushing in his jugular with every pulse. They sat like that silently, both just inhaling smoke and staring ahead at nothing in particular. The night sky, summer grass, fireflies, his brown backyard fence, a magnolia he helped his sister plant, and a broken grill his dad couldn’t figure out how to fix were all that was in their field of vision. They were all beautiful yet simple like an Eric Carle picture book. They fed his wild imaginations with a grounded realism, enlarged his naiveté, and made him wonder what Nancy was feeling.

He wanted to talk more with her, about anything, about everything. Somehow he managed to find more words when they text than when they are in person. It was just hard finding material to talk about without an emoji to put at the end of it. He made a promise to himself to keep the stories of his hookups as far away from her as possible, it would get awkward and sad whenever he mentions her family, it became weird whenever he asks about her friends that he’s never met, and he never wants to ask about the guy she invites to her house. Usually he just shuts up, unsure as to what to say to her. His steeled nerves that he had made hooking up with strangers for months seemed to melt under her platonic touch. But he knew what he had to do. His glass brother told him multiple times in the bathroom mirror after nights spent wasted on those dating app strangers. This was the hardest thing he would ever have to do, and he was almost certain of what her answer would be. But no matter what her answer was, at least the cycles of questions would stop. And that’s really all he could ever ask for. He took a while to rebuild his courage, to compose himself in the face of what felt like real danger. But he heard her sigh in comfort, felt her rub her cheek deeper into his chest, and all he could do was sit there in silence.