Showmanship

19 - Nosey Neighbors, That One Kid Named Carl, and Easter

Nosey Neighbors

    Three years ago I worked at the America's biggest, and arguably only, well known chain arcade. The name - Dave and Busters. What the name covered? - my personal hell. For a long time I would have to sit in a room and calm myself down after I was yellow. Every time I would hear a pinball machine, I would cringe. Now, though, I can finally say that I have repressed every little bit of my -.

    "Sweetie, you're talking out loud," Dorothy mumbled out. Sometimes she spoke in her sleep, so I thought it was that but then I leaned up and my dog was staring at me from the foot of my bed.

   "If you keep on inner monologuing I'm gonna have to publicly brake up with you." She shoved the covers over her face, but she was awake enough to be snarky.

    I leaned over, staring at the little bits of curly hair sticking out from the covers. "We're not even publicly dating yet."

    She leant up, turning on the lamp I bought for my three days of university. Most of the light only hit the night table, and the other bit was covered by her like an eclipse. I watched her silhouette speak.

   "Have you ever thought about writing down your thoughts?" She asked, rubbing the dark circles around her eyes.

   I shrugged. "Not really," I said. Which was a big ass lie. I wanted to write down my thoughts all the time, but I usually assumed no one wanted me too.

    "You should." And then she casually grabbed her phone, scrolling through something.

    I looked at her. She said the exact words I wanted to hear. I wanted to kiss her so badly.

   "Anything special," I asked.

   She glared at her phone screen. Her forehead made nervous little wrinkles. She became too preoccupied to answer.

   "Hey?" I tried to get her attention again.

   "Sorry - I," her face was still scrunched up. She snapped her face back up, and quickly put the phone back on the nightstand. She smiled when she saw me. "Sorry, just Carol just needs me to babysit when they look for wedding venues."

   I couldn't tell if my anxiety pulled a magic trick and made that seem bizarre.

   Then she said. "I'm gonna use the bathroom then I'll be back." She got up, and squeaked open my bedroom door and then slammed it closed.

    Then I knew something was weird.

   Impulse decisions happen a lot easier when your intoxicated. That's a scientific fact. When I picked up Dorothy's phone and continued to hold it even when it became evident she hadn't locked it, I was sober. I hadn't touched a single bottle since hell broke loose at a Halloween party. But I felt under the influence, in some shallow, scared, fucked up way. I couldn't control my tired eyes and sleepy thoughts. They moved on their own control.

   It opened to her texts to Carol. The secret speakings between two roommates and best friends. Was I really insecure enough to look through my girlfriends phone? Did I have the guts to read her personal messages?

    Yes. The dumbass did.

Carol: I mean I'm not going to say your over reacting bc it's your thoughts, but I really think you should just say something to him if you feel like this.

Dorothy: your really not good at boy talk.

Carol: I know you think everything is in your head, and that all your problems revolve around disorders and shit but you told me yourself that you have to rely on real life.