More fiction, continued again, from before.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

This week went slowly. I spent Sunday afternoon with Jeff and Marie. I do a lot of things with them, now. In some ways I feel like a chaperone from the Victorian age. At least that’s putting what I’ve become in a better light than saying I’m the ever-present third wheel. I’ve learned quite a bit from watching them interact, though. Jeff is the fair go-between, the thoughtful boyfriend who, to people who haven’t seen him relate with Marie, can otherwise seem crude and somewhat obnoxious. Marie is not afraid to say what she thinks, how she feels, how she thinks Jeff should act. It has been difficult not to say anything when I notice the glitches in their relationship…usually when Jeff jokes about gender roles without realizing how much of an affect it has on Marie, or when Marie again orders Jeff’s morning and evening for the upcoming days.

I’m glad to not be in a relationship when I see things like that. I wouldn’t want to dance to that intricate and complex rhythm.

“Hello?” I answer the soft ring of my phone. I wonder why I answer the phone questioning the person on the other side instead of greeting him or her.

“Hey, Rachael. What’s up?” Marie’s voice greets me.

“Oh, not much. How ‘bout you?”

“Nothin. I just got back from work. Hey did you still want to do something tonight?”

“Yeah, sure. Did you think of anything yet?” Of course I still wanted to do something. I’ve been planning on finally getting out of my apartment for something other than work ever since my Monday afternoon drive to the office.

“Nope. You?”

“Well, the weather still sucks to do something outside. I don’t know if the Terrace has any live music tonight. I didn’t see the newspaper at work today. Once we’re twenty-one we shouldn’t have this much of a problem, we can go to the other clubs and cafés, then.”

“Yeah. That’ll make it a lot easier. Well, let me ask Jeff if he’s got any ideas. Let’s see, it’s about 6:45, how ‘bout if I call you back around seven? You think of somewhere we can go, too, and then we should be able to figure something out.”

“Alrighty. Talk to you later.”

So Jeff’s coming. So much for going out for an evening without feeling like I’m obviously out of place. At least Jeff and I have become pretty good friends now. He used to intimidate me, though I can’t for the life of me think why. The funniest aspect of this friendship is that Jeff has had crushes on me off and on since we were in elementary school together. I still have the Valentine cards to prove it. Obviously I haven’t told Marie about this; we’re becoming good friends as well, and I don’t want to give her any idea that Jeff isn’t devoted to her or that I have any ulterior motives. She doesn’t even like hearing that Jeff has once watched movies with the only other girlfriend he had.

As for things to do, well, there’s a pretty limited under-age nightlife around here. I suppose we could solve that by finding fake IDs, but the $400 fine to which they could give us access along with the clubs and shows just doesn’t seem worth it.

I continue curling my hair since it seemed like a good idea a half-hour ago when I started the process and I can’t really stop now. I pull my short black skirt and black fishnets from my closet, holding them up to myself in front of the mirror. It’s been a while since I’ve dressed up and now I feel like going all out. Oh, right, I have to think of where to go. In all honesty, I would be happy going to a nice restaurant followed by a play or a symphony. I want to go to a poetry slam sometime, too. I wonder if …

“Hey, Marie” I say, picking up the phone, not questioning this time.

“Hey. So what do you think?”

“I’ve got a couple ideas. I actually looked through the phone book. Restaurant Magnus is nice. They have live music every night, usually jazz. It’s a spiffy place.”

“Do you know how much entrées run?”

“Nope. I’ll check, though.”

“Alright. I’ll run that by Jeff but why don’t we plan on that. Did you want to go to a movie or something afterwards?”

“Sure.” No chick flicks. Please. I beg you.

“I’ll look and see what’s playing, then.”

“K. I’ll call the restaurant, make a reservation and all that.”

“Sounds good. We can just play the rest by ear then?”

“Definitely. Best way to go.”

“Ok. Bye.”

Oh goody. Calling the restaurant. I avoid phones. No special reason, I just don’t like talking, I guess. I usually save all my necessary phone calls until one afternoon when I feel especially ambitious so I can make all the calls at once. That’s kind of like getting shots and taking required classes. I’d rather get them at one time than spread them and their torture out over a longer period of time. Quite a handy defense mechanism, if you ask me.

I hang up the phone after reserving a table for three at 8:30. The hostess had informed me that plates ran about double what any of us could afford to pay, so I call Marie. This is quite frustrating.

“Hey. So plates go for about thirty dollars there…where else should we go?”

“Uh yeah, no doubt…Jeff mentioned another place that sounds good. But here’s the thing. Jeff says he already ate, so I don’t really know what he’s thinking anymore. He mentioned that Mark and Kevin were probably going to have a LAN party at Kevin’s house and Sarah and some guy named Patrick will be going over there, too. I don’t know, this is getting really annoying. Jeff thinks we need to go over there or something.”

Okaaaay. I must have really misunderstood the plans for tonight. I feel like an idiot for curling my hair, now….especially if we’d be going over to his house. Yes, the nameless he, Kevin. “But we can’t go over there dressed up. That was the plan, wasn’t it? To go somewhere we could dress up and all?”

“Yeah.” She sounds exasperated. I know she doesn’t want to go to his house, either, but since he and Jeff are best friends, and he feels he needs to have one hundred percent of Jeff’s attention, he’ll feel hurt if our little “clique” does another thing without him. “Hold on a second.”

I hold, still wondering when going out with Marie included all the other friends, and non-friends, as the case may be, we had in common.

“Ok. Let’s just go to that restaurant that Jeff suggested and then we’ll figure out the rest of it from there. We’ll probably leave in about five minutes to come get you.”

Five minutes? She dressed that quickly?

“You’re already dressed? What are you…”

“I’ve just got a gray skirt and a funky t-shirt and some black flats.”

“Oh, so not super dressy then.”

“Yeah.”

“Ok. See in you a little bit. Bye.”

I hang up thinking that life would be so much easier if I could just read people’s minds. No more of this guessing and second-guessing. I know I definitely need to develop my intuition a bit more. That will be my goal this summer. Become more intuitive, more perceiving, more aware of other people. I put some different clothes on, keeping the fishnets but replacing the short black skirt with something less showy, or something.

“It’s getting late, I have to work tomorrow so I should get home.” Marie says, through a somewhat forced yawn. Jeff echoes her, helping her stand up. I wait to say anything for a little while, still feeling somewhat awkward and at a total loss for an excuse of why I would need to leave early as well.

I say to no one in particular, “Yeah, I’ve got to get up kind of early tomorrow, too, I should get going.”

Marie looks back at me, knowing full well my actual reason for leaving Kevin’s so early. She gives me the ‘I know exactly how you feel’ look. Good. So I’m not the only one who felt somewhat awkward at his house.

I pretend Jeff, Marie, and I had all driven together, so I follow them out the door, saying a quiet goodbye to anyone who notices or cares if we leave.

I suppose a couple cared immensely that we left. They didn’t want us there in the first place. The soap opera of his life affects everyone else around him. It’s interesting to watch how selfish self-perceived selfless people can act.

Feeling unwelcome and yet manipulated into spending time with people is not a situation I want to re-live. I suppose I must, though, to understand it, to learn from it. Why did he have to spoil another of my evenings, though? Why can’t he just disappear from my life altogether? Why can’t he make new friends? The rest of us have succeeded in doing so, only he won’t welcome them into his life because he feels he’s being replaced. Doesn’t he realize that because he continues to act as though we are still in high school that we will gladly replace him so as to not deal with the manipulation? If he could just see what he’s doing, or if he could simply grow up, he would be much easier to be around. He would find much less friction.

But the story, the rumination, the introspecting so that I can some day apply this to extroverting something of myself…

To Be Continued . . .