Forum Overview :: Cabaret Voltron

Inside: several things happen, and I write about it by Colonel K 08/02/2003, 9:10am PDT We hadn’t caught up in a while, so I called first. It’s been ages, hasn’t it, coffee sounds fine but I’m busy tomorrow. I’m meeting my girlfriend but you can come, if you don’t mind – I don’t mind – only she needs to run some errands in town. He doesn’t want me to feel like a third wheel. ‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘We’ll get coffee and everything.’ ‘You won’t feel like a third wheel?’ He won’t be staying long. ‘Spare tyre, maybe. The Goodies had that bike with three wheels.’ ‘Only, she works that night. What?’ ‘The bike they rode.’ ‘The Goodies were fruits. Who rides a bike with three wheels?’ I’d buy one if I could, take it all over town. People would stop using taxis. I’d be rich. ‘That’s why they rode it.’ He’s laughed. ‘Anyway, it had two wheels. Listen, I’ll see you on Thursday, right?’ ‘Thursday.’ ‘Good talking to you.’ When he hangs up, I hold the line open and we talk, the dial tone and me, about our problems. We go way back, the both of us. We don’t say much. Thursday comes and I arrive casual late, not-in-a-hurry-late. He turns up afterwards, we order coffee and I stare at the waitress. ‘She’s just parking the car. We saw the funniest thing coming here,’ so I hear about it. It’s pretty funny. I’ll tell it to another person about myself, afterwards. ‘So the guy forgot it, then.’ ‘Yeah, puts it behind his ear. Lights up another, and’ ‘-singes his sideburns, pretty stupid. What an ass.’ We laugh about it, some guy we don’t know. He could be my boss, he could be anyone. He probably isn’t. Real, I mean. ‘Did he smoke both?’ The story ends better this way. ‘Oh. Oh, yeah. No, he threw the first one out.’ There’s a slow pause. ‘When did you start smoking.’ He looks at the pack in my hand. ‘I didn’t know you smoked.’ ‘First I’ve heard of it.’ He takes one, I put the pack back and we keep talking. ‘Your girlfriend’s taking a while to park.’ ‘Yeah, she always does this.’ I have to ask him, eventually. ‘Has it been long?’ ‘Eleven months next week. You know, I saw Aaron the other day.’ ‘No shit?’ No shit. ‘How is he?’ ‘Alright.’ First beer, first breakup. I can almost remember the dates for each, but now he’s an accountant or something. House, and a car that he cleans on the weekends. ‘But then he tells me, says his fiancée left a month ago.’ ‘She went? Why?’ Shakes his head. ‘He hasn’t told anyone yet. They had some arguments about her job, and she left.’ It’s pretty terrible, thinking about it all. ‘I told him that he couldn’t. That he shouldn’t have asked her so soon, they weren’t ready.’ ‘Christ.’ ‘He’s pretty depressed about it.’ Everything. On his ass. ‘What about his house. Their things?’ He’s leasing it off. Cars in the garage, except hers, and he’s moved into another apartment. ‘He’s back with his ex, but I don’t think it’ll last long.’ It’s pretty terrible. ‘You remember, he was always talking about her. In her car, that time.’ ‘Yeah, with the sunroof.’ He reaches for his coffee and I lean back, watching as the café slows down. We’re the last customers but my voice is too loud, even when I stop to stare outside. Blank. It’s quiet now, and the traffic lights dim to amber, then red, waiting as nobody drives past. I have absolutely nothing to say, and the building, the street, echoes with it. ‘She’s not coming, today.’ My eyes flick back before attention does, and he’s watching me. ‘She’s moving out, tomorrow. I should have told you.’ Errands to run, appointments to make. He’s told me now and I don’t say anything, but honestly, I really don’t give a shit. ‘Did she tell you why?’ My voice even, eye contact. It’s not hard. ‘She said. She said to me, it’s run its course. And I said-’ Give it time? ‘-asked her-’ Get out? ‘-what’s the point. So I helped pack her things.’ ‘I’m sorry,’ and I am - I really am – but not about this. ‘Look, if there’s anything I can do-’ it’s like I’ve practiced, but still. ‘If there’s anything, ask.’ He scratches at a coffee stain, and waits. ‘No, there’s not.’ Scratch. I peel off some fives, and flick them onto the table. ‘I’ll cover it.’ His jacket’s on the empty chair, so I pass it to him but he doesn’t move. I’m standing there like an idiot, keys rolling in my free hand. He gets up off the chair and I wait, at the door with his jacket until he takes it and we walk to his car. I close it with him inside, then I step back. He starts talking, it’s too goddamned bright and his windshield’s bronze with afternoon glare. I narrow my eyes but that makes it worse. He’s thanking me. I keep nodding, waiting for him to pass and he does, the car rolling off as he keeps waving. I head in the same direction, back inside the café where the waitress stares.

Inside: several things happen, and I write about it by Colonel K 08/02/2003, 9:10am PDT     Nice. NT by Nice. 08/02/2003, 12:10pm PDT     Re: Inside: several things happen, and I write about it by mrs. johnson 08/02/2003, 4:38pm PDT         Re: Inside: several things happen, and I write about it by Colonel K 08/03/2003, 1:25am PDT