“Fuck you, man.”
She shouted over the crowd and swigged from her beer. This has been going on for about half an hour now. What started off as friendly bar side chat quickly got intense.
“No, fuck you, I will never agree.”
The swearing wasn’t all that harsh, but it was enough for the bartender to lean in and ask, “this guy bothering you?” She shook her head with half a mouthful of beer. She swallowed, “Nah, I got this guy, he’s a pussy.” He frowned at me and gave me the eyebrow, but went about his work.
“Pussy?!” She nodded, with a cheeky grin. “You heard me.”
“Pussy or no, you’re still wrong.” The intensity level went straight back. We went back and forth in discussions of morals and right and wrong.
“I think murderers should die, fuckin’ kill ‘em all, eye for an eye.” How we even ended up here is beyond me now, this started out as conversation between strangers, she told me her name and I told her mine. Maybe we were faking them. She caught my eyes in the act when I was checking her out, she pointed a finger at my nose and told me to shape up. My eyes crossed to focus on the extended appendage and she burst into laughter. Then we exchanged our real names.
“Could you do it though? I mean, ya know, cold blooded and all. I mean it’s one thing to shoot someone who’s just killed someone you love in the heat of the moment, but could you do it in cold blood?” She paused and we both sipped our beers.
“I mean, like real shit. Cold. Blooded. Killing. Slow and calculated. Pre-planned. Someone you didn’t know’s killer…” I trailed out because she could see where I was headed.
“Everyone wants blood but no one wants to get their hands dirty.”
She looked down, a little sad, at the bottle. For a second her thumb and index were messing with the label. I raised an eyebrow, “that’s rather revealing, ya know…” as she lazily tried to slap my face away.
“I think you’re right, I guess I couldn’t really do it. But YOU on the other hand, I’ve never met someone who’s pissed me off so much in such a short time!” She laughed.
I think it was her smile. Or her strength and conviction. Or maybe her open mindedness. We had been back and forth about various topics. Both of us yielding to good points. I learned a lot in that short space of time. About her, about some things out there in the world. About myself.
She looked in my eyes. She didn’t look away. She spoke eloquently and listened intently. She would rest her hand in her chin with a goofy smile. I loved the bandana in her hair.
Polar opposites, sitting together. Talking together. Laughing together. Coming to blows over philosophy and politics. Both walking away with broader knowledge and opened eyes. Something extremely rare in today’s world of hypersensitivity towards clashing ideals.
Her boyfriend pushed through the crowd and rested his hand on her back. He leant in and kissed her while I fumbled with my beer. “Very revealing!” she laughed as the expression on her man’s face turned to confusion. I tried to laugh as naturally as I had earlier.
“This is my boyfriend.” We shook hands and greeted each other. “Babe, we gotta go!” He was about an hour late for their meeting. I’d been keeping the seat warm. He said goodbye as he shuffled through the crowd to the door. She gathered her things, slammed down the last of her beer and looked at me.
“It was really cool meeting you, man.” I gave her a grin and a little salute. She put her hand on the shoulder of my jacket, only to brace herself as she pushed through the vultures circling the beer taps, I’m sure.
I promised myself I wouldn’t look after her as she walked out the door. That I wouldn’t gaze over my shoulder and think about ships passing in the night or some bullshit. I wonder if she made the same promises, I wonder if she told herself not to look over her shoulder as she walked out the door, and I know she never looked back.
Because I did.
(Source: mister-selfdestruct)
