I’m still holding the flowers

Hold this.

Why?

Because I’m driving.

So?

So hold the fucking thing level. It’s filled with water.

Why do I have this?

Because I want to take the fucking flowers home. Hold the pitcher level, motherfucker.

this is gay.

I’m gay, so it makes sense, see?

Whatever you say, tough guy.

Do you still have her number? Or did you manage to lose that already?

I have it right her in my hand with these mother fucking flowers.

Don’t get it wet.

I won’t.

Hold it level.

I am.

I really really really think I met her before. Once…just one night. Long time ago.

Why are you whispering to the dashboard?

trying to keep this thing level. It was on an island. it was the summer…no, the spring.

What are you talking about.

I met her before. That’s how I know her…about her.

You met her before?

kinda.

What?

I carried her. I picked her up in my arms and carried her like a baby around the island. She wasn’t too heavy…at first. After the first couple of hours, I took to resting on the sidewalk. She would say things and I just listened and watched her face.

What the fuck are you talking about?

Her.

You met her before? And you were carrying her around on an island?

Yes.

Why were you carrying her?

We were trying to find her house. She thought she saw it a couple of times, but she was wrong. The key didn’t fit. So we had to wait for the sun to come up…so…so she could see clearly.

Why were you carrying her? Was she hurt? Did something happen to her?

Something happened…was happening. I saw it happen.

What happened?

I can’t say.

Why?

Because maybe she doesn’t want anyone to know maybe she wants to forget maybe she’d be embarrassed maybe.

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE PITCHER!!!????

It’s
I
…it’s gone.

How is that possible?

I don’t know.

FUCKING A! JESUS! Keep a hold of the flowers.

I got it.  I’m still holding the flowers.

How can you lose a pitcher of water?

My pants are wet.

Are you ok?

Yeah.

So, what island?

Hmmm?

What island were you on?

Tybee Island. There’s an atomic bomb buried in the sand 50 miles off shore.

Really?

True fact.

And was this really her…the girl….the one you saw tonight?

Yes and no.

Yes and no? Was it or wasn’t it?

I don’t know. It wasn’t. But, it was.

 

You have to stop talking.

It’s an odd thing.

Get your head off the dashboard. Do you still have her number?

Yes.

Why do you think they are the same person?

I don’t.

 

Lay there.

k.

next time just mail it in, ok?  You can’t always have your shit together.

I know.

Upset drunk is never pretty.

You aren’t getting all gay on me now, are you?

Fuck you.

 

Tell me.

What?

Why do you think you saw her before?

Can I use that pillow too?

Why do you need five pillows?

I saw her face before. That face. It’s…

What’s wrong with you?

It’s…it’s like staring at the sun when you’re a kid….or maybe looking at god when you’re a catholic….it’s just frightful and beautiful.

Another drink?

Yeah.

What happened was, she just sat down next to me. She started talking. She asked me, “So what’s your story?” She was just there suddenly in front of me, and I saw her face…

Another?

No thanks. She just felt right…rightness….rightfulness.  what’s the word?  I just want to see her face again. I want to see her.

I’m turning off the light.

K. Not even tired.

 

Do you want breakfast?

I don’t believe in breakfast.

It’s not like Santa Claus…you either want it or you don’t.

I don’t.

Do you still have her number?

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