It is less than 24 hours after East Peoria's prom. It is mother’s day.
Hale is graduating from Limestone. Patrick was asked to leave school five credits short after
writing a short-story where the protagonist holds the school hostage and then
blows them up and then (author) (Patrick) felt the need to give an autograph
copy of the short story to the school social worker who deemed that he his mere
presence was toxic on campus.
He finished his high school education at the alternative school at the Y downtown.
After the meal I feel a pain in lower abdomen. It is like someone is trying to exit the interior of my anatomy with either a scalpel or a BIC pen. It is like someone is trying to whittle a caricature of Gorbachev with a Buck Knife in a vector of my anatomy I am unaware I posses beneath the hood of my navel.
Kristina comes over. Even though she has showered her hair
still has the petrified oak sheen of the copious amounts of hairspray administered
the night before. We go over to Hale's house on McKinley in Bartonville. Patrick
shows up still making a big deal about purportedly bot being able to attend his
own graduation. Becky’s boyfriend is twenty-one and there is a cooler of Beer.
Goth Dan is talking about Dungeons and Dragons with Nate. Jackie (who graduated
also informs me about a bonfire at her house next Saturday and claims both
Kitty and myself are amicably invited.
Everyone is with the exception of Hale and Kitty is drinking beer. Strickler show ups sans Andrea and states that she wasn't able to attend the gala due to church tonight. Kitty seems pensive. I flagellate my forefinger in an Uncle Sam I want you to enlist fashion, commenting that the cement slabs leading up to the front porch were the first
Kitty sits on my lap the same way
she sat sixteen hours ago. I have drank exactly a beer and a half. I have maybe drank a total of twenty accumulated beers in my lifetime.
For some reason the pain in may side just won't subside. I endeavor to wash it away by slamming another Milwaukee's Best.
Kitty looks at me and asks me if I'm okay. Somehow I manage to tell her I am fine even though my lips transition into a scowl. Kitty doesn't drink. She informs me that she feels uncomfortable with alcohol being served and everyone being underage. Kitty makes a comment that she doesn't mind drinking a glass of wine if its like a toast or something but just to wanting to drink to get hammered is pretty sophomoric in her opinion thank you very much.
"It's cool, we don't have to stay. We can go somewhere else and chill for a couple of hours."
Kitty looks back and gives my hand a lil' squeeze.
***
"It's cool, we don't have to stay. We can go somewhere else and chill for a couple of hours."
Kitty looks back and gives my hand a lil' squeeze.
***
" It's nothing.I guess I just ate too much of my mom's cooking.." I tell her, pressing my hand into my side.
My hand presses back into hers. I kiss her forehead. I kiss the slope of her neck.
"You know. Last night was amazing and everything. If for some reason we break up and decide not to date I hope we don't hate each other. I hope we're still friends. I hope we can still hang out and like really be there for each other ten years from now."
Kitty smiles. Our palms remained welded at the wrists. Kitty nods.
"I like you." I say very simply, followed in tandem by an eye and you, a spring zephyr emanating through the hyphen of her lips.
Twelve hours later I will be in the hospital throwing up blood and I will not be able to move.
***
No comments:
Post a Comment