The Night Is Young

Phantoms and Garden Gnomes

“What Are You Doing Tonight?”

I play it casual and flip through an uninteresting paper back book, “Nothing daddy.” I reply.

He shuffles, I hear his feet, I can almost hear what he’s thinking.

Its not healthy, he thinks, she needs to get out.

Little does he know that I’m lying, but its ok, because he wants me to get out anyway right?

“You sure you don’t want to hang out with your sister tonight? Go to a friend’s house? Watch a movie while I’m gone.”

The book, to his eyes, is so interesting to me. I bury my head into the book and pretend to be engrossed in it, “I’m ok Daddy.”

“Well ok then,” and then he’s out the door headed for his room to get ready for work.

Secretly I feel bad, I feel like I’m about to smoke dope, roll a joint and sell my body on the corner. That’s just me dramatizing everything, like usual.

So much drama.

_________________________________________________________________

I Never…know what to wear. Never, never, never. And its not even a date, its not even remotely a date.

Right?

RIGHT?

RIGHT?

No its not, because I said that we could only be friends. Yeah, that’s exactly what I said.

Calm the hell down!

My temperature rises as I sift through my clothes, mentally rejecting them just as Ashley did a few days ago. Blue top? Hell no. Yellow top? Looks like something my Great Grandma would wear.

What the hell do you wear to a ‘hang-out’?

Regular clothes idiot.

 ___________________________________________________________________

I Smooth….the wrinkles out of my black high school shirt and rearrange the loose fitting skinny jeans so that I’m comfortable. My hair, thank god its more manageable today; I have it pushed back into a curly fro held by a black hair band and pomade for my edges. Glasses or contacts?

I hold the two in my hands eyes roving between both. One makes me look slightly normal, the other makes me look like a nerd. One is easy to take off, the other requires clean hands and solution. Easy or Sexy?

Easy or Sexy?

Which one?

What if I have this insane urge to rub the hell out of my eyeballs and the contact gets stuck? And what if I can’t get it out? I’ll be ruined for life.

I picture myself then blinking for all of eternity crying about how stupid I was to risk my eyesight for the sake of looks. My life falls down from there, my social life becomes nonexistent, I never get married, I never have children and I die an old crone.

I toss my container of contacts so fast I think I have whiplash, “Glasses definitely.”

Finally dressed and ready for Nelson I sit on the edge of my bed and wait patiently.

He should be here, he said seven right?

The sun is down and the night spreads as I continue to wait for him. Freshly painted nails tap against the fabric covering my knee caps as I watch the moonlight began to drift into my room. This goes on for a few more minutes before I realize that one of us have made a dreadful error.