It was twilight; the sun was a bold orb and washed the neighbourhood in a bright orange. Red, blue and purple clouds blanketed the sky and the shadows of trees wrapped around buildings like fingers, trying to grasp and hold the city in darkness. This would be the perfect time to take her out into the country, he thought. The mid July day had been so hot that it melted candles in the apartment, and it wasn’t going to get any cooler in the evening. Guy Lapointe’s t-shirt clung to the heavy layer of sweat on his back. He looked out of his living room window anxiously, checking his cell phone every five minutes, just in case he didn’t hear it chime and missed a text message from her.
The sweltering living room consisted of a chair that sat by the window with cigarette burns and beer stains on it. There was a couch in the middle of the room, with a fat guy on it; three fans ran at the same time, trying to cool the temperature down to a bearable level. His roommate John sat on the couch, wearing nothing but shorts; he said that it was too hot for a shirt today. John was big, he had a belly of rock and arms of stone, and his chest was covered in hair, as well as shoulders and tufts that grew out of his ears. Guy often told John that he thought the reason he was so hairy was because he was the shunned offspring of some wookie tribe.
John had a white head set glued to his ear and a videogame controller in his hands. On the television screen in front of him he was playing a shooter game and killing anyone that stepped into his scope. Guy saw someone running across the screen and watched as John led the guy with his crosshairs, there was a bang and the guy fell to the ground in a spray of blood.
“Holy shit dude,” He cried.
“Pshhh, that ain’t nothin’,” John said laughing.
It was true; Guy had seen John make some really good shots while sitting in his chair watching as his hairy friend drank Dr. Pepper and ate Cheetos as hey played videogames. John was paid to play videogames; he was part of this team that went out to tournaments where he would stand on a platform covered in neon lights while slaughtering kids from different teams on fifty foot screens.
Guy checked his phone again and John looked over and snorted at him.
“Dude, relax. She said she’d text you before coming over, so she’ll fuckin’ text you.” John said.
“Yeah I know, but she hasn’t texted me all day, I sent her a message this morning and nothing. She always takes forever to respond,” Guy whined.
“Dude,” John said looking at the television set and picking off another unfortunate soul online. “Like I said, relax. You’re acting like a lost little puppy right now.” He got up on his knees and brought his hands to his chest bending them at the wrists, and panted like a dog. “Hey, when are you coming back huh? Huh? Can I come with you? HUH? HUH? Girls don’t want that shit man.”
Guy laughed. How would you know what girls want, all you do is play videogames all day long and smoke weed and drink every night, he thought but would never say.
“Okay, I get it…but I think I’m starting to like her though,” Guy said not able to look his friend in the eye.
“You’ve only been out on one date, and that was to a movie, and she had to go home right after. Dude, I’m going to say it again, relax.” John said. “FUCK ME!” he screamed ass a little kid with shaggy hair somewhere in Edmonton Alberta, picked him off.
*
Often he found his thoughts on the night they first met, He was out with John and a couple of friends at a bar doing a pub quiz, if you answer all the questions right you won a pitcher of beer. As they walked into their drinking hole, a drunken girl staggered by with a pitcher and four pint glasses, she sat at a table with four other girls shrieking laughter. John looked over and tipped a chubby blonde girl a wink.
The bar was a maze of people, and Guy found himself doing crazy dance moves just to get by them all, he came upon a tall guy with tattoos all over his neck and arms, he tried the right and there was a girl with dread locks dancing to Boston’s, More than a feeling as it rolled out of the speakers. He tried the left and a bouncer was standing in front of a drunken dude who large wet stain down the front of his pants. John put a hand on Guy’s shoulder and stood behind the big guy with the tattoos.
He tapped him on the shoulder, “Hey man,” he said patting the big guy on the back, “Mind if we get through?”
The big guy broke into a big smile as soon as he saw that it was John and moved aside and let them through.
They walked out onto the patio; people were crammed into the tables that were sporadically placed around the large patio. However there was one seat left, it was right next to the back door of the patio, the door the bouncers threw people out of every once and awhile. They grabbed a piece of paper and sat down.
Usually they only won a single pitcher of beer a night, but that night was going well, they were three pitchers ahead by the time they decided to leave. John went back to the chubby blonde girl’s house and Guy headed off home.
He was walking down the street, his head swimming and his body vibrating I’m drunk. He thought. No, I’m hammered. “No I jumped into a catapult and hurled myself way past hammered. I’m fucked up,” he said aloud as two girls walked by him giggling. He took his hat off as they passed him and he shouted. “Merry Christmas,”
He didn’t remember the walk being this long, he bobbed and weaved down the sidewalk, stopped and wobbled at the curb, and he made sure there were no cars coming and ran across in a jagged dash. There was a trail that Guy and John used to take home. When he came to the entrance, he stopped scared, he wasn’t scared of monsters or crazy people that might live in there during the night, what he was afraid of was the black that started as the orange of the street light ended. He looked down the path and at the end of the ink black trail he could see a faint orange glow of the street light that waited on the other side of the path, something inside him screamed this is fucking scary dude. He laughed at himself for being childish and he entered the trail and the darkness consumed him.
As he went deeper into the trail the light on the other end grew brighter and brighter, he raised his hand to his face and wiggled his fingers, he felt the tiny tufts of wind against his face but could see nothing. His heart started to quicken, he heard wind blowing and a twig snapping and jumped. Buddy, it was probably just a squirrel or something. To which another replied. Squirrels come out in the day jerk off, not at night!
“Oh man,” he cried and started to pick up his pace, at the halfway point, the trees grew thinner and the moonlight shone brightening the path a little bit. Something in his stomach lurched and his mouth began to fill with iron tasting water and he spat it out as he walked. He placed his hands on his head and tried to will the vomit that threatened to spew forth down. He thought he had it licked, and then he gagged and up came the Kraft Dinner he had for supper, the moonlight bounced off half digested wieners. He puked again, and just when he thought it was over he was sick once more. He stood up and wiped his mouth with forearm and in the middle of the path stood a girl; she stopped in a patch of moonlight with a frown on her face.
“I puked,” he said.
“I saw,” she said, the moon illuminated her golden curls he lips were full and her eyes shined and twinkled silver in the moonlight. He had never seen silver eyes before must be contacts he thought. He felt his knees unhinge and before he knew it he was looking up at her.
“Oh dear, you’re a mess, how far are you from home?” she asked.
“Five mishushts,” he slurred.
She bent over, grabbed him under the arm pit and hoisted him onto his feet; she was surprisingly strong for such a small girl.
“I won the three pitchers of beer tonight,” he said proudly.
“Yeah and you just puked two of em’ up in that ditch over there.”
“My name is Guy,” he said leaning on her shoulder.
“Gertrude,” she said.
“That’s different idn’t it?” he asked
She laughed. “You’re wasted, Guy.”
The rest was a blur, he remembered her standing with him at the front of the apartment, and he remembered hearing the fluttering of a moth’s wings against the street lamp above. And he remembered John’s voice in his head screaming at him to ask for her number, but she he did all that came out was mumbling, “canihasf…number?”
She smiled and reached into her purse and produced a pad of paper and a pen, wrote down her digits, gave them to Guy and told him to call her any time.
Guy examined the number for a couple of seconds, “Well good night,” he said and turned around, opened up the apartment door and slipped inside. He was so drunk that he didn’t even notice the blood on her shirt.
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