Tonight's writing

It starts at Bocanova. That’s what Rene will tell you.

 

Before that he steers the Mini Cooper into the most reasonably priced parking lot at Jack London. Clash on the stereo, sunroof open to the starless sky. Hand over hand, the way he’s taught at fifteen, that kooky driving instructor. Dude used to bring a garter snake to lessons. Had it in a box everywhere, including the freeway. He thinks about telling this story to Sylvie until he realizes he already has.

 

That’s what happens in relationships. You learn everything twelve times over. Not just the stories either. Not just the details. The inflections, man. The way they tell the tale, the dramatic sighs, the strategic pauses. You hear them spinning it across the room at parties and you strike out for the bathroom, the backyard, the basement just to get the hell away. It’s hard to tilt your head and smile when the spoilers have spoiled, the drank drunk. Hard to feign anything when they know you well enough to know your personal brand of bullshit.