Ask the Passengers
Page 22
“Beautiful works.”
“Good. Wear whatever you dance in. You do dance, right?”
“I dance.”
“Good. Then tonight will be our first dance. I can’t wait,” I say. Only when I hear it come out of my mouth do I remember that I am a robot.
“Have fun on your date,” she says, which reminds me I have to see Jeff and lie to him for a few hours before I go to Atlantis. “I want a full report.”
“See you in the parking lot at eleven?”
She nods. No kiss good-bye. We just keep staring at each other and grinning.
The Legion Diner is particularly busy tonight, so we go early for once. Justin, Kristina and I wait for Jeff to show up, and we talk.
“I really can’t string him along like this anymore. Everyone knows he’s really into me, and I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I mean, he’s an okay guy. I hate lying to him.”
“You didn’t hate lying to us,” Kristina says.
God. I wish she could just pick a side and stay there for a minute.
“Meow,” Justin says. He winks at me.
Then Jeff walks in, so we can’t have the rest of the discussion.
Here are the stats from dinner:
LEG SQUEEZES: 21
COMPLIMENTS ON HOW I LOOK, WHISPERED TOO CLOSE TO MY EAR: 6
USES OF THE TERM BRO WHEN CONVERSING WITH JUSTIN: 13
ASS PINCHES (WHEN I GOT UP TO GO TO THE LADIES’ ROOM): 2
FRANK SOCRATES SIGHTINGS: 0
MINUTES I FELT GUILTY FOR LYING: approximately all 110 of them
Dee is waiting in the bar parking lot when we arrive in Justin’s car at 10:56. We are eager. I see the lights of a passing plane above me. You’d be eager, too, I tell it.
I hop into Dee’s car and jump on her like a lonely dog after a day at home alone. This is probably the most forward I’ve ever been with her, and while I’m doing it, I try to figure out why. I think it has something to do with Jeff Garnet.
She slips her hands into the waistband of my jeans, onto my hips. I kiss her as if we are not in a parking lot surrounded by a bunch of other people. Someone raps on the window.
“Break it up, lovebirds. Let’s go!”
Though Dee knows Kristina and Justin vaguely, I introduce them as if they have never met before. And oddly, they interact as if this is the case. I sense a respect toward Dee. She’s out. We aren’t.
Getting through the door only causes me minor heart palpitations this time. Jim the bouncer seems to recognize us from last week, and he takes our five-dollar bills and stacks them atop the other five-dollar bills in his little cashbox.
Dee stays close, and I hold her hand as I lead her from the back of the bar to the border of the dance floor.
“Is it always this loud?” Dee screams into my ear.
I hold up two fingers and say, “I’ve only been here twice, but yeah. I think so.”
She nods.
We’re both dancing in place—just a little. Dee’s arms are wrapped around me from behind like a blanket, and I feel myself relax. After a half hour of watching other people dance, Donna asks me if I want something to drink, and before I can ask for a bottle of water, Dee orders us two hard lemonades and hands Donna ten bucks.
Donna brings the bottles, and Dee takes them both and hands one to me and holds hers up to toast. The music is a particularly loud techno song, and she has to nearly scream, “To us!”
I clink. I drink. It’s not half bad. Tastes like lemonade.
A half hour later I am feeling really loose. And happy. Loose and happy. I know this has something to do with the hard lemonade. As I look around the bar, I see people smiling at me. One of them is Biker Lady with her whistle. She waves, and Dee asks me if I know her.
“Kinda.” I wave back and blow a kiss, which makes her point at me and blow her whistle.
I’m dancing like I am not a not-dancing robot. I don’t know what’s happened. Suddenly, I can dance as if I’ve done it a million times before. Like I am a dancing queen. Dee is right here, rubbing up against me. We are two parts of the same animal. People are hooting. We’re on fire. Every time Dee gets her face near mine, we kiss. Right there on the dance floor. After the song is over, we stand to the side and I gulp water and she gulps more lemonade and she has her hand in the back pocket of my jeans. It’s as if someone has taken the real Astrid Jones and replaced her with one who is okay with intimacy in public places. It’s like I’m the anti-Astrid.
“You two are hot,” someone says. When my ears hear it, it’s fuzzy.
Biker Lady is doing her bar circles with her whistle, and she stops once to grind with the two of us. It’s not as naughty as it seems. It’s not real grinding. We’re just being funny.
And I am pretty sure I’m g*y.
I mean, not just by default because I am in love with Dee, but I feel like these people are my people or something.
By the time the bartender calls for last call and the lights flicker, I’m too tired to dance anymore. I’m still soaked, but I’m no longer tipsy. The same can’t be said for Dee.
“I’m going to drive you home in your car,” I say. “Then I can meet up with everybody at the Superfine parking lot.”
“I’m fine,” she slurs.
I take her keys—proof that her reaction time is lame. “I’m finer.”
In the bar parking lot, Kristina and Donna fall into Donna’s car for a few minutes, and Justin and Chad are in Justin’s car. We agree we can leave in five minutes after some alone time.
Dee looks at her watch. “Shit, man. We have to be at work in three hours.”
I kiss her on her neck. “Totally worth it.”
“True.” She kisses me sloppily and it makes my insides twist up and we make out for a few minutes and everything is going great until she jams her hand into my pants and I have to stop her from going too far because I don’t want to go that far.
She slaps the car seat and says, “Dammit, Jones! Just shit or get off the pot!”
I decide Dee is now fine to drive home.
How’s that for getting off the pot?
21
LIFE OFF THE POT IS QUIET.
I GET INTO JUSTIN’S CAR, and we all take off for Unity Valley. I don’t say good-bye to Dee and I don’t cry and I don’t feel anything but numb indifference. Part of me scolds myself for ever bringing her here. Part of me knew this was a bad idea.
Maybe part of me wonders if I’m even g*y, though only an hour ago, I was about 99.9 percent sure. It’s like I just walked in a big circle.
“Good. Wear whatever you dance in. You do dance, right?”
“I dance.”
“Good. Then tonight will be our first dance. I can’t wait,” I say. Only when I hear it come out of my mouth do I remember that I am a robot.
“Have fun on your date,” she says, which reminds me I have to see Jeff and lie to him for a few hours before I go to Atlantis. “I want a full report.”
“See you in the parking lot at eleven?”
She nods. No kiss good-bye. We just keep staring at each other and grinning.
The Legion Diner is particularly busy tonight, so we go early for once. Justin, Kristina and I wait for Jeff to show up, and we talk.
“I really can’t string him along like this anymore. Everyone knows he’s really into me, and I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I mean, he’s an okay guy. I hate lying to him.”
“You didn’t hate lying to us,” Kristina says.
God. I wish she could just pick a side and stay there for a minute.
“Meow,” Justin says. He winks at me.
Then Jeff walks in, so we can’t have the rest of the discussion.
Here are the stats from dinner:
LEG SQUEEZES: 21
COMPLIMENTS ON HOW I LOOK, WHISPERED TOO CLOSE TO MY EAR: 6
USES OF THE TERM BRO WHEN CONVERSING WITH JUSTIN: 13
ASS PINCHES (WHEN I GOT UP TO GO TO THE LADIES’ ROOM): 2
FRANK SOCRATES SIGHTINGS: 0
MINUTES I FELT GUILTY FOR LYING: approximately all 110 of them
Dee is waiting in the bar parking lot when we arrive in Justin’s car at 10:56. We are eager. I see the lights of a passing plane above me. You’d be eager, too, I tell it.
I hop into Dee’s car and jump on her like a lonely dog after a day at home alone. This is probably the most forward I’ve ever been with her, and while I’m doing it, I try to figure out why. I think it has something to do with Jeff Garnet.
She slips her hands into the waistband of my jeans, onto my hips. I kiss her as if we are not in a parking lot surrounded by a bunch of other people. Someone raps on the window.
“Break it up, lovebirds. Let’s go!”
Though Dee knows Kristina and Justin vaguely, I introduce them as if they have never met before. And oddly, they interact as if this is the case. I sense a respect toward Dee. She’s out. We aren’t.
Getting through the door only causes me minor heart palpitations this time. Jim the bouncer seems to recognize us from last week, and he takes our five-dollar bills and stacks them atop the other five-dollar bills in his little cashbox.
Dee stays close, and I hold her hand as I lead her from the back of the bar to the border of the dance floor.
“Is it always this loud?” Dee screams into my ear.
I hold up two fingers and say, “I’ve only been here twice, but yeah. I think so.”
She nods.
We’re both dancing in place—just a little. Dee’s arms are wrapped around me from behind like a blanket, and I feel myself relax. After a half hour of watching other people dance, Donna asks me if I want something to drink, and before I can ask for a bottle of water, Dee orders us two hard lemonades and hands Donna ten bucks.
Donna brings the bottles, and Dee takes them both and hands one to me and holds hers up to toast. The music is a particularly loud techno song, and she has to nearly scream, “To us!”
I clink. I drink. It’s not half bad. Tastes like lemonade.
A half hour later I am feeling really loose. And happy. Loose and happy. I know this has something to do with the hard lemonade. As I look around the bar, I see people smiling at me. One of them is Biker Lady with her whistle. She waves, and Dee asks me if I know her.
“Kinda.” I wave back and blow a kiss, which makes her point at me and blow her whistle.
I’m dancing like I am not a not-dancing robot. I don’t know what’s happened. Suddenly, I can dance as if I’ve done it a million times before. Like I am a dancing queen. Dee is right here, rubbing up against me. We are two parts of the same animal. People are hooting. We’re on fire. Every time Dee gets her face near mine, we kiss. Right there on the dance floor. After the song is over, we stand to the side and I gulp water and she gulps more lemonade and she has her hand in the back pocket of my jeans. It’s as if someone has taken the real Astrid Jones and replaced her with one who is okay with intimacy in public places. It’s like I’m the anti-Astrid.
“You two are hot,” someone says. When my ears hear it, it’s fuzzy.
Biker Lady is doing her bar circles with her whistle, and she stops once to grind with the two of us. It’s not as naughty as it seems. It’s not real grinding. We’re just being funny.
And I am pretty sure I’m g*y.
I mean, not just by default because I am in love with Dee, but I feel like these people are my people or something.
By the time the bartender calls for last call and the lights flicker, I’m too tired to dance anymore. I’m still soaked, but I’m no longer tipsy. The same can’t be said for Dee.
“I’m going to drive you home in your car,” I say. “Then I can meet up with everybody at the Superfine parking lot.”
“I’m fine,” she slurs.
I take her keys—proof that her reaction time is lame. “I’m finer.”
In the bar parking lot, Kristina and Donna fall into Donna’s car for a few minutes, and Justin and Chad are in Justin’s car. We agree we can leave in five minutes after some alone time.
Dee looks at her watch. “Shit, man. We have to be at work in three hours.”
I kiss her on her neck. “Totally worth it.”
“True.” She kisses me sloppily and it makes my insides twist up and we make out for a few minutes and everything is going great until she jams her hand into my pants and I have to stop her from going too far because I don’t want to go that far.
She slaps the car seat and says, “Dammit, Jones! Just shit or get off the pot!”
I decide Dee is now fine to drive home.
How’s that for getting off the pot?
21
LIFE OFF THE POT IS QUIET.
I GET INTO JUSTIN’S CAR, and we all take off for Unity Valley. I don’t say good-bye to Dee and I don’t cry and I don’t feel anything but numb indifference. Part of me scolds myself for ever bringing her here. Part of me knew this was a bad idea.
Maybe part of me wonders if I’m even g*y, though only an hour ago, I was about 99.9 percent sure. It’s like I just walked in a big circle.
