L O V E => By A. P. Smith

There is enough smell in the room: her, my burned out incense, the sex, and something I cant seem to put my finger on. She punches me in the somach, not hard but hard enough, and playfully.
"I hate the fucking news," I say,
"you dont want to believe anything" Cari says and takes a drag of her smoke
"I guess thats it" I say
I have no idea what she means. I am on my left side and she is on her right side and I lay back down on my back. She is on her back and bends her right leg. I feel the bottom of her right foot on my thigh and something makes sense for a second in the dark room. The darkness is warm and not empty. Almost blue.
My hair is kind of long and I dont even know why, I dont know why I am any of the things I am. I look back on my life and its like watching "The Usual Suspects" for the second time; plot points just appear where there didnt seem to be any.
"Fuck it" I think, "I'm making this shit up as I go along" The only thing I know about myself is that I dont know anything and when I think ive figured something out I know that will be wrong too.
I guess "wrong" isnt the right word, its just that perspectives always change and everything dies - even ideas.
"Forget it" Cari says, and for a second I think she is reading my mind.
"What?"
"I thought you were worrying about Bill."
"No I dont know what I was worrying about"
"You were worried though?"
"I dont know what i'm doing"
There is a pause and she is still and I am silent and I think we are feeling the same thing.
"God we're so fucking dramatic, you know?" she says. I do know. We have sex again and go to bed.

"How was last night?" my roomate asks as he walks out of his room to find me coming in the door on a Sunday morning. He turns on a basketball game.
"Hemmingwayian" I say, thinking of "On the road". He looks at me strangely and I remember he hasnt read any Hemingway and I say "It was perfect and kind of cheesy"
"What do you mean?"
"I dont know. It was cool. We had fun"
"Yeah. Did you wax her?"
"Fuck. Ah....yeah"
The only thing that bothers me more than talking sex with guys is lying.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah"
I shut the door behind me and it gets darker in the apartment. I realize that I liked it better over at her place and wish I hadnt left. And that is when it starts and I know i've left some of me over there and brought some of her back with me. That would be good but i'm not sure of her yet, so it makes me self-concious.
I am already thinking how long I should wait before I call her and how I should act. I close my eyes, breathe deeply through my nose, rebelling against my need. I ask my roomate if he has a bowl because I need to relax. I know myself well enough to know its a bad thing when I start to feel like I need someone. He doesnt have a bowl and then I think, what if shes feeling the same way? Isnt that what this is all about - finding someone who thinks they need you at the same time you need them. But then again, I think: if she doesnt feel the same way and I come off like that then...what? then what? "Jesus, this is highschool shit" I tell myself. "Whats the point if i'm not being honest?" I just sit there, almost shaking my head, pretending to watch the game. trying to relax, hating myself for tripping out over this girl.
Its later and I'm really glad that my roomate is home because there is this fucking hick sitting next to me and hes got the remote and hes...I dont know, being a fucking hick and I need to have someone to look at when it gets too much for me to handle. Jesus, you wouldnt believe this fucking guy. He thinks pro wrestling is a sport. Jesus fucking christ. So hes flipping through the channels and stopping on commercials. But he keeps stopping on movie commercials so it isnt really bothering me, in fact there seems to be some sort of brat pack going on. Andrew McCarthy is in "Mullholland Falls", Emilio Estevez is in "Mission Impossible", I saw Ali Sheedys name in "The Hollywood Reporter", and Rob Lowe came into the store where I work the other day. Beyond that, and the thought of how cool it would be if "Prince" recorded a acoustic CD, the evening was a total washout. But then the phone rings. I answer the phone and Im pretty stoned because I dont really think about who was going to be on the other line. Its Cari and shes like "Hey, its not to soon to call is it?" This is a good thing.
"No, actually I was gonna call you earlier."
"Why didnt you?"
"I didnt want you to think...."
"Oh, yeah well, dont worry about that"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah"
"Do you wanna hang out?"
"Do you?"
"Why, you dont want to?"
"No, I thought you were just asking like you didnt want to."
"No I want to"
"Okay, than I want to"
"Okay, then we will"
"Okay"
"Okay then I'll see you then"
"Bye"
"Bye" I hung up the phone and I felt good and I went back into the living room and the hick was still there. What are you gonna do?

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