SATURDAY NIGHT: stop one ( self-para )
the cursor of her phone blinked up at her, expectantly waiting for another message to be typed out. the words were impossible to find, she couldn’t think of a sentence that would convey anything she wanted to say. chiefly, because she had no idea what she wanted to say. each message looked so plain, a failure to say anything meaningful, or say anything at all.
were they friends? were they speaking? was something wrong? was anything right? what did she want, anyways?
harriet locked the phone, an exasperated sigh escaping her as she stood up from the fairweather bar. her glass was half empty, her tab paid, and the night offered little else to mediate on. getting a drink after she finished her paperwork had seemed like a good idea. now, it only left her at the same point she'd been returning to over the past weeks. maybe she'd made a mistake in ever offering asher a cigarette in the first place. maybe she should have told him to come home with her. maybe, maybe, maybe.
thinking of standing in the drive spilling out all her secrets as though it was enough to make anyone want to stay made her sick. she knew better than to do that. the childish voice rang in her ears begging him to be on her side! as if saying it out loud would make it so. she was disgusted with the longing that had seeped through her words, her actions. and what had it all gotten her? she was here, it was as if she hadn't told him anything at all.
from across town, the empty rooms of the mclaughlin mansion stood sentinel, ever waiting in their pitch darkness for her to return. the blank walls could stare back at her while she ran through the conversation one more time— or she could finally to just walk into the studio. the door would be unlocked, music playing from some odd room. he’d ask for something ridiculous and she would say yes.
good frequency wasn’t a far walk, the night air clear, void of humidity. her shoes were quiet against the sidewalk, the streets bare of witnesses to her surrender. there was no grand build up, it simply had to be done. he was not going to find her. she would have to walk through the door. she had done it before, she could do it now. one foot in front of the other until she saw the light bleeding into the street, painting the sidewalk gold, the odd shadow dancing through it. shadows.
once she was close enough, she saw it was not just asher. there were people already there in the windows of the second floor, moving to and fro with some aimless agenda. the quad, their ridiculous pet names for each other, popping up with predictable timing. other figures she couldn't quite see even as she drew closer. and, asher on the first floor couch couch smiling, a unfamiliar blonde looking back with the same ease.
because it was supposed to be easy. friends all together, getting along. sending texts, answering calls, going out for lunch and coffee. meeting up on saturday nights for games and chatter.
the image sharpened, asher and the blonde no longer looking at each other, laughing. no, they were kissing. full-on, messy, hands wandering to find placement. wrapped up in the contact, whether it was casual or fun or whatever adjective he would have used to describe it now that they weren't standing under fireworks.
friends did this all the time. he could kiss anyone and it didn’t mean a thing. he’d told her that himself, honest and sure, and she’d kissed him anyways. had she thought she was different? something special? years of compliments, of people telling her to pick him, pay attention to him. all of that came to one fine point: she wasn't the first, she wouldn't be the last.
she couldn’t walk in, not like this, pale and wanting something much more serious. looking out at the the last dregs of a party that she wasn't even invited to, she felt her heart hammer in her chest. she couldn't stomach the thought of stepping forward, so she stepped back instead, turning on her heels with a hot shame that caught under her skin and started to burn up her neck and face.
she didn’t want to go home, she couldn’t stay here. she couldn’t walk back into the bar and face everyone again. she didn't want eden's or treble. main street was unfit for the feeling that was running through her veins. she got in her car, slamming the mute button on her stereo before the first riffs of a song could touch her. she almost hit the steering wheel, fed up with her own stupidity.
all the attempts at a conversation washed away at once. what had there ever been to say?
there was only one place in carroll that could withstand her moods, the anger in her stomach, the humiliation that had no place to go. so, she pulled out of parking lot, and turned onto the well-worn path towards the ranch.














