Smart Girl

11.17.17

or when it feels like it's crumbling.

a show. a lovely night for a show done by close friends.

waiting for him to arrive. just found out he's bringing her, but whatever. it'll be fine.

they arrive soon before the lights dim. she sat down right where he was going to go. it shocked me, and i kept thinking "gosh just ask them to switch" while also thinking "nope can't do that she'll think you have something against her when really he's just your best friend." i let it be.

she interrupted my conversation with another friend with spiteful words despite not being included in the discussion. she attacked this friend with words sharp as knives.

then she turned back to him, smiling and fine. as if she hadn't just been a complete asshole for a reason that didn't even make sense.

the two were overwhelmingly involved with one another. i should have expected it, but not to this extent. this was madness.

on occasion he tried speaking past her big head, but it was hard to initiate conversation when 1. i am filled with anxiety because of this girl, 2. she's constantly talking, never stopping to breathe, and 3. i think he's just doing it because he feels obligated to.

the friend on my left said things like "has he even talked to you yet?" time and time again. i ignored it. if i thought about it any more than i was i would have had an anxiety attack.

throughout the first half of the show, there was a very obvious line in the sand, drawn right between me and this girl who made my head ache and my teeth grind. i exchanged laughter with the girl on my left, and the other two were clearly their own pair.

intermission came and went. the first act was done wonderfully. i kept trying to think about how good my friends were doing instead of the whirlwind of idontevenknowwhat in my gut.

a couple of times in the second act, he tried looking over at me, trying to express something but me never getting it. i brushed him off. we were here for a show.

i stayed quiet except for mutters to the friend on my left and apologies to the girl on my right whenever i bumped into her.

the show ended beautifully, and as we stood to leave, i felt my legs wobble some. sitting for two hours straight is not advisable.

i waited for a minute for him and her to be a bit on their way out before leading my friend out. as we moved at a snail's pace, anxiety bubbling in my stomach, i heard a familiar voice behindbeside me.

"that's wren," said the voice of my ap psychology teacher. i turned to see him talking to his son. "she's one of the best." i smiled a little. "there are a lot of bad ones, but she's the best." i laughed a little and thanked him quietly.

the lobby was packed with people trying to leave or congratulate the cast on a wonderful performance. i tried not to focus on his blue and white checkered shirt or her snide face and blonde hair, but instead on handing out hugs to the performers.

i expressed pride in them, trying to hug as many as possible before i could no longer ignore the vibrating phone in my back pocket.

i thought about how he was leaving to go across the country the next day, how i wanted to say "bye," how he had wanted to get a picture of me for my contact in his phone.

but then i thought about how she was always there, always attached to him at the hip.

i left without a word. hoping i wouldn't cry, i looked to my right before crossing the street to my mom's car, which was waiting for me.

as soon as the door closed behind me, she shouted, "YOU ALMOST GOT HIT BY THAT CAR WREN WHAT THE HELL."

then the tears came.

as we passed under green lights, a text came in on my phone.

"Were you good tonight? You didn't seem to want to talk. Granted it was in the middle of a play and Emily was in the way, but still. It seemed a bit reclusive."

i left it on read, let it sit for a while. i would not respond immediately. no. no way.

in the meantime, i ate sad pizza and tried not thinking about him or her or anything. i sat in the floor of the bathroom and tried thinking in straight lines but only came up with scribbles.

when i finally did respond, i told him it would be a flood. and it was.

he said he wanted to help her be less rude. he wanted to help her to stop the streak of being rude. to me, he sounded like the stereotypical girl who wanted to fix her boyfriend, fix his faults to be just how she liked him.

he apologized for the seating situation. then i called him.

we talked for an hour, and it was back to like it always was. two people, laughing and talking about music and being normal. only us, no theater or emily or problems.

i liked this. everything else hurt, but this was okay.