Driftwood
Morgan says you’re different now. You tell her you don’t see it, but you know she’s right. She’s known you too long now and has seen you go through, in her opinion, too many of these situations. She can read you like a book, like a sad, self-loathing book. But you’re a good guy, through and through. She can see that. That’s why she sticks by your side. Morgan’s a good friend and you think that you’re lucky to have her around, putting up with your shit and knocking you back down when you need it and, when you need it, being there to tell you that it all works out in the end. She’s good and you’re still different.
Not really?
Yeah, you are. You’re just not you somehow.
I don’t know what I am right now.
You need to just get over it already.
I know I do.
So then do it.
It’s not that easy.
Yeah, but here’s the thing: it kind of is.
I really don’t want to get into this right now.
The car is still running and it’s dark now. There isn’t much light up there on the hill and cars don’t drive by very often. That’s why you go there to drink and do whatever else you want. Sauced now, and slowly falling into a state of indifference, the two of you buckle back up and head down the hill. Morgan is falling asleep. She truly is gorgeous but you can’t look at her in that way. She’s like a sister to you. The light from the street crosses her face every few seconds and you think maybe she’s the one. But again, you can’t do that to her, to your friendship. But maybe you’re vulnerable right now, and maybe you drive just a little bit slower to her house, to drop her off, just so that you can spend a few minutes more next to her.
Carson Street doesn’t wait and, regardless of whether you want to or not, you drop Morgan off at her house. She says thank you and you say you’ll talk to her tomorrow. When she gets out of your car you watch her walk to her door, just to make sure she gets in okay. She waves and then you drive off. Your buzzed still, if only a little, and not really wanting to go home just yet. So you drive around the block once, maybe twice, smoking a cigarette and thinking of the morning, waking up and having nothing to do. It’s a battle in itself, you think. They’re small and probably not worth mentioning, but they’re yours and they’re hard enough. You think of things you can do to pass the time: draw a picture, write, watch a movie. Is it ever to early to start drinking again? That’s a bad habit you don’t want to adopt.
Minutes go by and finally you decide it’s an appropriate time to go home. Lightheaded and tired you pull up to your apartment. It’s past three and a dog is barking. All you want to do is fall into bed, pass out, asleep without a thought, until the sun comes up. When you get inside you text Morgan. You say, I’m home. Really there’s no need to, but it’s comforting to you and maybe you think she’s not quite asleep just yet, that maybe she’ll text you back and you’ll talk for a while. That isn’t the case tonight and so you get undressed and you fall asleep.
You dream. You’re running through a jungle and the sun is out. It’s hot, but not hot enough, and the sky is the most beautiful blue you’ve seen. As you run a voice in the back of your head tells you not to stop. The brush is thick, the leaves are a deep green. Everything around is serene. You run still, faster and faster, as fast as your feet can carry you, but your destination is unknown. And then you stop. There’s a lake. It’s small and there’s a waterfall. It shines bright and you think you’re where you need to be. You sit down on a tree stump for a moment and think about why you’re there. Your grandfather is next to you. He’s talking about something, telling you some amazing story and you’re writing it down because you miss him and you don’t want to forget what he’s saying, because maybe you won’t get another chance. At the end he hugs you and says he’s proud. He loves you and you tell him you love him. Then he disappears and you’re left sitting in the sun. There’s no more running and it seems that the waterfall has stopped as well. This is where the dream ends.
The next morning you wake up. It’s almost noon and the heat in your room is what tears you from sleep. Morgan has called. You call her back.
What are you doing?
I just woke up. What are you doing?
Nothing. You want to get lunch?
Okay. Sounds good. Give me a few to get ready.
Pick me up?
That’s fine.
Okay. See you in a bit.
Bye, Morgan.
You get dressed but don’t shower. It’s a chore and you don’t smell. You’re a clean guy and, really, it’s only Morgan. When you go to pick her up she’s wearing a sun dress. You think maybe she’s too dressed up and it doesn’t make sense. She says she just felt like wearing it. It drives you crazy but you try not to think of it. Sundresses, god damn. You’re a weak man and her hair is long, but you resist and the two of you drive to get lunch.
Sleep well?
Yeah. I passed out after you dropped me off.
I had a good time.
Me too.
I drove around a bit more after.
Why?
I don’t know. I didn’t want to go home.
Weren’t you tired.
Yeah, but I didn’t want to sleep.
You’re crazy.
Probably.
Well maybe you should get more sleep.
Like they say, sleep when you’re dead.
Gonna come sooner than you think, at your rate.
Where are we going?
There’s a Chipotle you go to. You both love burritos and they make some really good burritos. You sit outside. It’s an amazing day and the two of you talk about random things. She’s a “New Hope” girl, you an “Empire” man. There always seems to be discussion on which is better. It never fails. You talk and argue and it’s fun, but neither one concedes to the other. That’s okay, though, because really it doesn’t even matter. After lunch Morgan has the idea to go to the beach. You agree and, with nothing else to do, the two of you drive to the beach. In the car she plays Talking Heads. She asks you if you called your ex when you got home.
I didn’t.
That’s good. I was worried you might.
I dream of the day when I don’t think of her anymore.
That’s kind of sad.
It’s all I can do.
Would you erase her?
I might, on a whim, but probably not.
That’s good.
I’d be too scared.
I think you’d regret it. I would.
You’re right. But what can you do?
Easier every day.
Today is a nice day. I’m glad we’re hanging out.
Of course.
She smiles and you smile back. The freeway is jammed but only for a few miles. When you get to the beach you park in a residential area. Walking down to the shore you notice there’s nearly no one around. You didn’t really plan the trip so neither of you are dressed for the water but being in the sun, on the sand, it’s all you need. The two of you walk around, down the shore to the pier, and toward the end, to the ocean. The smell is refreshing, albeit a little fishy, but you love it. The two of you get shakes at the Ruby’s at the end of the pier and sit on a bench behind the building. You talk more about life. She’s gorgeous and you would love to be with her. Mostly you just need a distraction. She’d be more than that, but you can’t help to think of it, think of her.
Walking back to the car the two of you bump into each other. Seagulls fly overhead and you watch to make sure they don’t make their business on you. It’s a slight fear you’ve always had. They don’t, however, and the two of you get to the car cleanly. Morgan says she’s tired. You both are tired. On the way back she falls asleep and it’s all you can do to not fall asleep as well. Her sundress is driving you mad. You can’t stop thinking about it. For a moment you pick up your phone and think about texting your ex. You know it’s bad news, but mostly you just want some attention, but eventually you resist. The two of you get back to Morgan’s around six. You wonder where the time went. You didn’t think you were at the beach for so long. She invites you in and you accept. The two of you watch television for a bit before falling asleep on the sofa. A couple hours go by before you wake up. Morgan says she’s been awake for a bit and offers you a beer. You think about leaving but you stay and the two of you share a beer.
I don’t know what I’m doing, Morgan.
You and everybody else, man.
I think I love you.
I think you don’t.
You don’t know that.
Neither do you.
I do. I really think I do.
You love the idea. You don’t love me.
I want to.
Don’t be an asshole.
See, we’d be perfect together.
Maybe, but not now.
Because?
I don’t want to be your rebound.
You wouldn’t.
You’re funny.
I try.
What are we watching?
