conversations at 100kph
i sat in the train station after work, watching the minutes imply an approaching train, thinking about what i could talk to her about. i needed a friend, i needed good conversation, some sort of hook, like writing a successful song. high stakes, in other words.
i thought of our plans for the weekend, i thought of her psychology unit, i thought of mutual friends and family and philosophy and music and everything else that would be comfortable discussion topics. i thought about how rehearsed i was at risk of sounding. and it probably turned out that way, too.
of course, there were the other things, the things i couldn’t bring up because even in my own mind i called them “things” and not what they really were, “problems”, “issues”, “mutual sufferings” or whatever but i always avoid the medical terms that specify my exact perversions. even they’re too general to describe that exact component of myself, maybe of herself, if i ever dared ask about it.
the train pulled in and i boarded, sat, forgot to pull my novel out and progress. the morning sky and ocean was too beautiful for reading today. at the third station stop, estlin’s face emerged from the gushing crowd, but he didn’t see me. i wondered if i should make myself noticed, i decided there would be enough to talk about, it had been an awfully long time, there’d be enough substance to fill the next ten or fifteen minutes of travel.
“hey, estlin!” i tipped my sunglasses.
“may! oh, hey, i didnt recognise you.”
“sorry.” sunglasses removed entirely. “whats new? its been a while.”
generic discussion about occupation. pastimes. mutual parties. old school friends.
last time i had seen estlin i had been miles from home, and so had he, but he was the first person i ran into at a party, though i barely spoke on that encounter and didn’t see him for the rest of the night. i had been more drunk that i recognised and i had fallen asleep next to a boy who wanted to make love.
i barely remembered that i had once been sweet on estlin, back at school. i imagined this was how i would relate to men i thought i wanted now, a decade on, when i was married or else alone and embittered like i thought i was now.
the train pulled in and estlin headed off in the opposite direction, drawn to a sterile doctors practice somewhere high up in a city building and probably a bit glad to return his past to a thick haze of indifference, garnished with a mild hint of nostalgia.
i walked towards the river, the cafe where i was going to meet my new friend, mental palm cards stashed away in case of awkward silences.
Anonymous asked: Do you do drugs?
gawsh no…coca cola tea alchohol cold n flu pills the occasional bummed cigarette and some weed
120smokers asked: What brand do you smoke?
i dont ever actually buy cigarettes: i just find them aesthetically interesting
