A Descent into Darkness

Sitting Down

I stand on the crowded sidewalk of Downtown Toronto while waiting outside the Moxie's for Rachel and shivering. She's not late. I was here ten minutes early. Traffic into the city can be a fucking nightmare this time of day, and that's to say nothing of how hard it can be to find parking, though that's usually a bit easier this time of day as people are leaving work. I was able to find a public underground structure a block away, so it wasn't a long walk here.

Rachel texted she was leaving class about twenty minutes ago. My class was this morning, so I'm coming from all the way in Markham, while she's just coming from U of T's downtown campus on the subway. We arranged to eat here before heading off to see Jim perform at Meridian Hall. Now, I'm standing in the cold, waiting for her. And picturing pushing random pedestrians into traffic to pass the time. Hey, I'm not cured yet.

I could escape the cold by waiting inside, but it feels less awkward standing out here in the crowded street, rather than alone in the entrance of the restaurant.

My phone buzzes in my pocket as I'm scanning the area for alleyways which I might drag potential victims into. I pull it out and read the message.

I'm at University and Wellington. That's just down the street and should be in clear view. I turn to face that direction, trying to see where she is as the door to the Moxie's opens from behind me.

Someone suddenly grabs me from behind, making me jump.

"Gotcha!" come's Rachel's voice.

I growl with frustration as I realize she had slipped out from the restaurant to catch me off guard. "How'd you get in there without me seeing?"

"A friend from high school is a hostess working tonight," she explains, still holding me from behind and laughing. "She let me in the back way."

On the inside, I feel my need to dominate and control scream like mad that she got one over on me. A little lower on my body, I can tell her deception has aroused me. I guess that's a good start?

"Oh, I'll get you next time. Trust me."

"I trust you'll try. I saw Veronica's hair. Did she tell you she's decided to stick with the purple for the time being? Says she likes feeling like a rebel without a cause."

"Like hell," I reply as we head in through the front door of the Moxie's. "She kicked a swim instructor in the balls when she was eight because he tried getting her hair wet. I guarantee you she's fuming with rage, but just doesn't want to give me the satisfaction. The only thing she loves more than her hair is her pride."

"Has anyone ever told you two that you have a very werid dynamic for two people who claim to be best friends for life?" she asks as we approach the podium.

"Yes. And neither of us gives a shit."

We reach the podium where the hostess, Miranda, based on her nametag, is smiling at Rachel."

"You look happy there," she says, clearly trying not to giggle. "I assume you got him?"

"Oh, so good. You should have seen his face," Rachel nudges me playfully.

"How could you have seen my face when you grabbed me from behind?" I ask, well aware that I'm not really rebuilding my dignity with that statement.

Miranda laughs and picks up two menus. "If you guys can just follow me." She leads us deeper into the restaurant to a series of booths near the bar. "Someone will be with you shortly," she leaves the menus on the table and walks away. I watch her as she does.

"What's wrong?" Rachel asks as we take our seats, facing each other.

"She's high," I reply somberly.