09 October 2009 ~ 0 Comments

Yet another

(found the following short story I wrote last year…it made me smile which means more to me right now than it sounds)

Yet another

Lisa had dropped by. She’d do that sometimes, out of the blue, and we’d watch movies and have sex. We didn’t have much of a relationship aside from that. I liked the movies a lot more than the sex. She used to be a great movie partner, but now, well…she’d prefer to get right to the sex. She didn’t even watch movies with me anymore. She endured them. That’s why I stopped inviting her over. Any woman who can’t appreciate film, or appreciate my appreciation of film, was not a keeper. She never made the connection, the leap of imagination, that my film watching was fetish. That my enjoyment in the bed was directly connected to the foreplay of watching and enjoying a fine film together. And I never made it an issue, at least not verbally.

Nowadays, she just pops over on a whim. Not even the courtesy of a booty call, or booty text, no nothing. She just knows I won’t be entertaining and, nine times out of ten, she`s right. Disrespectful, but on point.

The other night we were watching “Beaches.” Barbara Hershey was learning about her terminal condition and Bette Midler’s version of “I think it’s gonna rain today,” was playing in the background. I was mouthing the lyrics, tears rolling down my cheeks. I didn’t bother wiping them. My T-shirt clung to my chest where the tears had landed. I could feel Lisa’s eyes on me.

“I bet you cry every time you watch this movie,” she said.

“So,” I sniffled. “It’s tragic and beautiful…true friendship.”

“You got issues!”

“And you’re issue-free,” I retorted. “Lucky you.”

She sucked her teeth. One of those seething, West Indian teeth sucks.

“Haven’t you ever lost a friend?” I cried. I didn’t even look at her.

Later on, we were doing the deed, her payoff for sitting through yet another tear-jerker with me. She was on top of me whooping and hollering and what not. Breaking my concentration. I was trying to recall the name of the disease that killed Barbara Hershey. Chronic something or other. I’d watched the movie at least 20 times… And then I blurted out, uncontrollably, “That’s it! I’m quitting smoking!”

She stopped her grunting to shout, “what!”

“Nothing.”

“No,” she demanded. “What did you say?”

“If I were to catch cancer, would you even care?”

“That’s not what you said!”

“Nevermind.”

Loco (-:

PS: Off topic, I know, but my mind wanders and I stalk it.

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