They Were Things

"This is a bad idea," I tell Arthur. "Arthur, this is a bad idea." Nonsense, he says, the idea is fine, I just have to get used to it. "Nothing good ever takes getting used to." He starts to say something but he stops because he knows I'm right.

We walk in and I'm wearing all black which is not my thing. You look good, Arthur had told me, you look cool. "But I feel weird," I said, and he said I'd get used to it, and that time I said nothing. The lights are low and I blend in, a floating head, buoying in a sea of limbs. I guess I could be anyone, I could be any one of these people, and that sets me at ease if only a little.

It's a birthday party and I wasn't invited. It's for a friend of his that I've met once or twice but that's whatever. It's a girl who's going to be there. We talked a little a while back, we had some nice back and forths, we have a few friends in common, things were going slow but fine, they were even going but I'm fairly certain that they were there, they were things. And then out of the blue—nothing. Couldn't get a word back, fine, that's fine, it happens all the time. But when you try at something, and you fail, trying again can seem like a waste of time. Especially in an unknown outfit.

We approach the group and I catch her eye. Her head drops. "This was a bad idea," I tell Arthur. He tells me to shut up and maybe he's right. Happy birthday, we say, and Arthur says you remember and birthday boy says yeah hey how's it going. I'm asked if I know the people here, I say hi to those I do and am introduced to those I don't. She gets up and goes to the bar and Arthur elbows my ribs. "Drinks," I say. "Birthday boy, what do you want?"

She's waiting. I walk up. "Hey," I say, "good to see you." She doesn't look at me, she's slightly turned. But the music's so loud, it's entirely possible she didn't hear me. So again I say, and louder, "good to see you." And she turns. She gives that look. I heard you. What. What do you want. And the bartender sets down her whiskey and she pays and walks away. I put in my order with the man and when he comes back he says the drinks are on him. And he gives me that other look: Tough break, kid. And I have to make this trek like a dead man walking, two light beers in hand.