Nice To Meet You

It felt like an eternity until she came back.

Before that, Long, Corn, and Jack asked me what was wrong. I said, “Nothing.” And smoked a cigarette.

Jaycie asked me what was wrong. I said, “Nothing.” And smoked a cigarette.

Yas gave me a swig of his whiskey in a flask and asked me what was wrong. I said, “Nothing.” And smoked a cigarette.”

She said it’d only take ten minutes. She was gone for forty. I went up and spoken poetry about her while she was, literally, with another man. It sounded God-awful to me.

The crowd loved it, though. Went to show what kind of crowd the Cafe was. They liked everything. Even cardboard robots. Even a heart-broken poet talking about true love.

Afterwards, I sat on the sidewalk curb waiting for Anna Lisa Kristina. I could hear the next few performers, but they were like echoes. All I focused on was every car that passed by. Wondered if she was in any of them.

“Yo dawg.” boomed Long. “Can I get a cigarette?”

I gave him one. He lit it up. I pulled one out for myself. I lit it up. We smoked. Yas came by. Smoked himself a cigarette, too. We all stood there, watching the cars go by.

Then, a black truck pulled over. I sat up and strained to see through the rear window. I could see the back of a female’s head shaped liked Anna Lisa Kristina. In the drivers seat was a bald headed male. I stood up. Flicked my cigarette and started walking to the car.

“Kick his ass.” said Long.

I heard him. And I agreed.

Anna Lisa Kristina jumped out of the truck and rushed towards me. She opened her mouth to say, “Don’t do anything!” but I didn’t hear it. I passed her, avoided her arm grabbing my hand, and walked straight to the truck.

The door was still open.

“Hey there,” I said calmly. I looked inside. The guy was skinny. Bald-headed. Commercial tattoos on his forearms. Tribal band type shit. Shit that needed to be ripped off because he didn’t understand the history of tattooing. “My name is Xavier.” And I extended my hand in friendship. Even though it was forced.

I didn’t want to kick this guy’s ass. Actually, I didn’t have any rational reason to. Anna Lisa Kristina was dating this punk. She wasn’t dating me. Me and her were just friends. Technically, there was no disrespect. But something inside of me didn’t really care. I just wanted any excuse to not like him, something enough to send me into that blind rage that I wanted to let out.

“My name is Xavier.” I repeated, hand still extended, hovering over the passenger seat. I looked at him. He looked at me. We were locked in that masculine staring game. I hated him. He didn’t hate me. He was jealous of me. I could tell by his eyes. He could tell by mine. I won.

So he turned his head and kept his hands to himself.

That was enough for me.

I jumped into the car and sat in the passenger seat. My fist balled up while I braced my leg on the floor. I was going to punch this kid through the door, sit in the drivers seat, pull it out of park, and run this fucker over a number of times for each minute I had to wait.

But Anna Lisa Kristina stopped me. She grabbed my arms and with all her might, she pulled me out of the truck.

She turned me around and pleaded, “Please stop.” She looked like she was going to cry. So, I had to stop.

I stood there, trying to find something in her eyes that would tell me I was completely wrong about her. That she didn’t ruin this night for me and her. That she preferred fake dumb ass punk kids over her best friend. That she still loved me the way I loved her. But I couldn’t find it. Any of it. None of it. That’s when I almost cried.

I blinked. And walked away from her.

She got in the truck and drove off.