Blue Mirth

Ungenerous

Ivy Lisa

He's still sitting next to me. Still staring. Still smiling. "So, tell me about yourself.", he says, casually. I look at the screen and reflect on that question. My name is Ivy Lisa. I'm eighteen years old. I like... stuff. "I'm Ivy.", I start. He looks at me funnily again.

"I'm aware."

"Aware? I thought your name was John."

"No, I meant-"

"I was kidding."

"Okay, well, good. Wouldn't want to be stuck with a name like Aware."

"Why not? It's different."

I don't know why we're having this conversation. I don't know why he's still talking to me. I don't know why he's finding me funny, but he is. He laughs a lot too. Like he doesn't have a care in the world. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe the world has been nice to him. After all, maybe the world's niceness wore out when it was done with me. Moving on. "Well, maybe it is. But more of that later. Tell me more about yourself.", he articulates. More of that later? "Um, I'm eighteen years old.", I state. This is natural for me. When I meet someone new, I always start with the basics. And what's more basic than the details on my drivers' licence?

"Right. Like I didn't know that."

"You did?"

"I could've guessed.", he says, matter-of-factly. "You could've, but that would only have been a guess, wouldn't it? I'm giving you the officially registered, exact, conformation.", I say. I realise I'm smiling and stop. He giggles softly.

"Okay, then, eighteen-year-old Ivy. Move on to the next fact you would like to 'confirm'."

"And... I'm out of facts. For now."

"Okay, then I'll ask you questions."

"So, this was supposed to be an interrogation."

"You call it whatever you want, but this wasn't anything like that."

"What do you call this, then?"

He considers that for a few seconds, and then says, "I call it 'Mission: Get to Know my Girlfriend's Best Friends'." He spent a lot of time thinking that up, I assume. But I let it go. "Okay, ask away.", I verbalise. He looks pleased with my reaction.

"Question number one: What's your favourite colour?"

"Black."

"That was obvious, wasn't it? One question wasted."

"'Wasted'? How is that 'wasted'? Were you going to ask me a limited number of questions?"

"I was going to ask you three, and then you were going to ask me three."

"Fair enough. One question wasted, then."

He cogitates some more, and then says, "What kind of music do you listen to?" Easy-peasy. "Just about anything.", I speak.

"Anything?"

"Yup. I believe that music is just too beautiful to be fussy about. It's like a pack of Skittles. You don't just like one flavour."

"You're passionate, I see."

"About music, yes. About most other things? Not so much."

"And why is that?"

"Because other things are... demanding. And ungenerous. And well, a little too much."

And then I know I've made a mistake, because his beaming face suddenly turns serious. I feel exposed. Like I spilled too much. "Okay, you, my friend, are deep.", he utters. Hmmm, no one's ever called me that. He's clearly trying to lighten up the mood. And I let him. "All I'm saying is, music isn't anything like that.", I declare, finishing. I also notice that he called me 'my friend'. But anyway.

"Last question."

"What do you do in your free time?"

"Go around Cerulean Ville. Drive my good-looking car. Embrace my freedom."

"I wish I could ask you more questions, but that would be cheating, wouldn't it?"

It wouldn't, but I say, "Yes." "Shoot.", he pronounces, indicating that I ask my questions.

"What's your musical talent?"

"I play the piano, actually. And a little bit of guitar."

"Wow, that's... remarkable."

"Yeah, I find it quite 'remarkable' myself. In the most modest way possible."

"What kind of movies do you watch?"

"I think you know the answer to that question."

"I have an inkling, but, honestly, there must be more."

"All sorts of movies."

"Really, all sorts of movies.", I don't say it like a question, because, well, it's not a question. It's more of a realisation. Maybe music to me is like movies to him. No boundaries, nothing. "Yeah, life's too short to be choosy about movies.", he expresses.

"So, movies to you is like music to me?"

"Precisely. That was your third question, by the way."

"Good, because it was supposed to be."

"Really? Nothing more is of interest to you?"

"I'll ask you questions when I can think of them. Right now, in the middle of this 'mindboggling' movie, I can't really think of anything else."

He smirks weirdly, and I get back to watching the movie.

*********

The credits roll by and I just sit there and watch them for a while. John's still perched next to me, and he's typing away in his phone. "So, you're going to go around town, I presume?", he communicates. It takes me a minute to realise that he knows now, that that's what I do when I have nothing on my schedule. "Um, yes. Going to get some lunch at Navy's and then maybe head home.", I chatter. I don't know why I'm telling him all this, but it doesn't seem to affect him in any way that might embarrass me, so I guess that's okay. He nods, looking at the credits, and I get up. He smiles.

"Until next time, then, Ivy."

"Sure, if there will ever be one."

He looks confused, but I don't have any time to answer his unspoken questions. I just smile good-naturedly and walk towards the exit. Where I find Lucas. I immediately turn around and start towards the other exit, but of course he sees me and comes up. "How's my girl doing?", he says, that annoying drawl in his voice making me want to punch him. "Go away, Luke.", I warn. He doesn't.

"Or what? You'll-"

"I will march up to Mr. Nicolas if you do anything disgraceful."

"Disgraceful? That announcement was disgraceful to you?"

"Luke, can you just please-"

He grabs my hand again, out of nowhere, and twists it painfully. The impact doesn't give him a reaction from me, because this is something I'm quite used to. He then squeezes it agonisingly, and I control my face this time. I try to pull it back, but he's one of the strongest people ever, and that doesn't have any effect on him. "And now, this.", he hisses, and then he brings my wrists forward, takes out a pocket knife, and hovers it around there. And I scream. And thrash. And kick at him. But he doesn't do anything, and I can't scream forever, so I stop. I realise that we are being watched and I gasp. "Is... something wrong?", says John. Luke smiles like nothing's wrong. Thankfully, almost everyone got up and out of the theater when the credits started rolling, so no one's here except John.

But John isn't supposed to see this either. "Nope, nothing.", Luke says. I wait for John to say something, but he just stares at me. He's very puzzled, I notice. As if he doesn't know what to do.

Luke releases me, and I storm out of there.