The Mountaineer

“They do give us translated Shakespeare you think they’d to the same for pretentious philosophers,” she let out a small, genuine laugh, lips curling up into a smile at the man. “Do you enjoy reading then?” But at the words that followed she scrunched up her nose, “why are you talking about him now then? Did you suddenly remember it?”

Everyone knew who you were—the words sound like a song to her, the exact thing she both longed and never expected to hear. “I don’t remember you,” she tapped her lip, he was either too unimportant for her or they simply didn’t run in the same circles. “I feel like I’ve been seeing a lot of people from highscool around,” she paused, “did you hear about James? James Frankton?”

“Exactly! That’s my whole point.” Giang nodded, enthused that someone understood his frustrations. “Oh, well I was just cleaning out some old storage earlier today and I came across the book. It was pretty dusty, but otherwise in good shape so I donated it. Now some other kid can go through the pain as I did. A cycle continues.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to another, then shrugged the comment off. “Like I said, we didn’t have classes together. And I was never very social, at all. Still kind of bad at it.” He chuckled lightly. “Yeah, me too, which is especially weird considering how massive this city is. I’d say birds of a feather flocked together, but... people tend to clash.” He mused, though at the name drop his features became solemn. “Yes. It’s so horrid. I’ve prayed every day since that the murderer gets caught.”

She grinned, rolling her eyes. She had a lot of catching up to do with everyone, especially herself. It seemed they weren’t together, as he called him her friend, but the kiss threw her off guard. It was soft and gentle, which is exactly how she had always imagined kissing him would be, but it had an air of comfort, like they kissed each other regularly. When they pulled away, she cocked her head to the side. “That was out of nowhere…what was that for?”

“I wouldn’t even read past the first page, but that’s only because I hate reading,“ Ryan shrugged. It wasn’t something he enjoyed, his attention span was too short. “I’ll definitely take your word for it. I recognize you, we went to high school together, right?“

“Ah, well. Alright then.” Giang blinked, not having expected that kind of bluntness. “Um, yes? I’m kind of shocked you recognize me though, didn’t think you paid that much attention to be completely honest. I’m Giang. You’re Ryan, if I’m remembering correctly.”

“Thanks, man.” Myles smiled appreciatively. “Hey, hey, I’m a little folk too.” He laughed before shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ll make it past a couple of screen tests, which isn’t a bad thing. I haven’t really felt ready to move forward I guess. I’m not scared or anything, I just don’t think I’m there yet..”

“No problem.” Giang nodded. “Only for now!” He teased, folding his hands over his knee. “I’m sorry, screen tests? I don’t understand.” He apologized before continuing. “So you’re kind of just doing it because you can? Not too seriously? I think I get that. One should always take time to perfect their craft.” He smiled.

“Still some stuff I’m uncovering about you, huh?” she asked teasingly, winking. She wondered where they stood with each other, and if they became friends again after he had distanced himself all those years ago. Maybe they were something more. “Yeah, why am I here again?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I whole heartily agree, but that's more to do with the fact I think you’re really hot. I stopped listening to what you were saying a few minutes back,“ Marcus admitted. He wasn’t the least bit ashamed. 

“Oh.” Giang paused for a moment, not having expected the abrupt comment. “Well, um, thank you. You’re quite attractive as well. I take it you don’t want me to continue ranting about literature, then?” He chuckled sheepishly, brushing his dark locks over his shoulder.

             Casey thought about pretending to know just what the other was talking about. After all, the title sounded familiar — like something they were forced to read in high school ( hell, maybe they had over these ten years, not that they would know ). Instead, they snickered, scrunching up their nose as they shrugged their shoulders. “If you gave me just a sec to look on SPARKNOTES, I’m sure I’d agree with you. The author probably was just trying to overcompensate for something.”

“Well, go on then. I’ve got time.” Giang nodded and leaned back, as if waiting for the other to actually look on sparknotes. Then he smiled, something small and quick before it was gone, and he sat up straight again. “Thoreau was absolutely trying to compensate for something. To be fair, the guy seemed to have a lot of repressed issues- but writing like that isn’t going to solve any of them. Or maybe it did, hell, what do I know.”

Her lips quirked upwards into a lopsided smirk. “What do you suggest? Audio books? Abridged versions? I have news for you, they exist.” She let out a laugh of her own, bitter and with little humor. “I–no, reading is…not for me. It’s a waste of time,” she lied. “You willingly read a philosophy essay? And they say true bravery is dead.”

Tilting her head, she took another look at the man. He seemed…familiar, in that way people sometimes do. As though she must have seen him somewhere before, doing something else. “Say,” she leaned towards him, lips strung into a wide grin, “do I look familiar to you at all?”

“An audio book of anything by Thoreau sounds like my own personal hell, so no thanks. But abridged... shit, that word sounds so fam- oh! Abridged, yes. Right. An abridged version would’ve been perfect for me back in the day. Those kinds of versions should really be more accesible for kids, honestly.” Giang chuckled lightly. “Mind you, it was years ago that I’ve read anything like it, but yes. Thank you, thank you. I’ll be taming lions this evening.” He joked.

For a moment after her question, he just kind of looked at her with a raised brow, wondering if she was serious or not. “Um... yes? We went to the same high school together. We didn’t have many classes together, but- you know. Everyone knew who you were.” He shrugged.

She grinned as she pulled off a piece of her croissant. “I think I know you well enough,” she said, shrugging. At least, she hoped she did. Having no memory of the last ten years was messing with her head. “Does Architecture Magazine count?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. She’d been reading that for as long as she could remember, and she had seen it on her night stand when she woke up.

Giang paused for a moment at that, glancing over at her. His lips formed into a small, almost sad smile for just a beat. “You do, for the most part.” He chuckled, cupping his hands around the warm beverage. “Thanks for taking the time to meet with me, by the way. I know how busy you are these days.” He took another sip before nodding. “Yes, that’s right. You and your trusty magazine. Have they published your work in there yet?” He teased.

“You really think people read philosophical essays for the ease of it?” She huffed, staring at the man. “Thoreau would be glad you’re giving this some independent thought but I’ve never read an essay that wasn’t more rambling than substance—but I suppose that the idea is that the message is important, not the writing.” She paused, heat rushing into her face, “n-not that I’ve read it. I just…I watched a video once. Reading sucks and essays are like…the most boring thing you could read.” 

“No, not at all. I just think that people shouldn’t read philosophical essays period.” Giang laughed for a moment before shaking his head. “I kid, of course. We wouldn’t learn much of anything without essays like that, anyway. I suppose it just seems like such an... inconvenient way to take in that kind of information. At least for me, personally.” He mused, then raised a brow at her reaction. “Nothing wrong with reading, I happen to like doing so. I’ve even read it. But, whatever floats your boat.”

Queenie couldn’t help but laugh softly. “I don’t think I’ve read that, but you would be the one to passionately speak ill of it,” she teased, shaking her head.

“If you haven’t read it, then how could you assume that about me?” Giang asked teasingly, then took a sip of his tea. “Have you even read anything in the past year? Be honest.” He raised a brow playfully, as if to assess her.

“Jesus Christ. I got three bouquets and a casserole at work today. You’d think it was a person instead of my marriage that’s dying. Do you like broccoli and cheddar?”

“I’d only be interested in the broccoli, but thank you. And... my apologies. I know you’ve already heard that too much but I don’t know what else to say.” Giang admitted with a small shrug.