Feel free to give me some title suggestions, as well, I desperately need them!
The orange soda we drank that day wasn’t cold enough. I know how much she liked a nice, cold beverage, like that one time, in the Poconos, when we had gone skiing, and it was frigid outside. Our hands were transforming into icicles before our eyes but all she wanted was a tall, cold glass of Lemonade. Maybe if there was enough ice in it she would have stayed, and things would be different. I could've gotten her the ice, it wouldn't have been that difficult. She probably would've thanked more for being so gentlemen-y and getting her more ice. She might've even rewarded me with a kiss on the cheek. That would've been nice. Maybe her life wouldn’t be such a train wreck if I had gotten her that ice. I could have saved her, if only I asked the waiter for more ice.
Sarah and I sat on the patio of Patrizio’s, the trendiest restaurant that can happen in a place like Monningham, New Jersey. Sarah was wearing a pair of dramatic bumble bee sunglasses that overwhelmed her tiny, tanned frame. Long, cascading blond locks grew out of her scalp well passed her shoulder. In the winter her hair became darker, but it was always light and bright during the warm summer months when I spent the most time with her. She pulled the oversized glasses up on top of her head, pouted her luscious lips at me for a moment, and then said,
“I just think that if I had told Jenny that Gary was addicted to mushrooms last Tuesday, Lance wouldn’t be mad at me.”
“Lance is a gay name,” I said, “if you were dating a guy with a more masculine name I’d be he would be more understanding.”
“What, you mean like Eugene?” Sarah teased.
“Yes. And you don’t have to say Eugene like that. It’s a strong, family name!”
“Oh no you don’t,” Sarah scolded, “don’t act like you’re so proud of that name now when you make everyone call you Teddy, which isn’t even your middle name. And Lance is not a gay name, you’re just saying that because of Lance Bass. When I hear Lance I think a knight, like Lancelot, or a guy who really likes breeding fish.”
A lot of people didn’t understand the friendship that Sarah and I shared. We both got along great because we were… eccentric. Still, Sarah worked it. I did not. It didn’t really bother us that people were slightly puzzled by our closeness, we’d known each other forever. It didn’t even bother Sarah that I was insanely and undeniably in love with her.
“Why a guy who really likes breeding fish?” I inquired.
“Because, guys who breed fish always have good hair, it’s just… part of their being. And good hair is hot. And Lance is hot.” She explained whilst sipping on her orange soda.
“Do you seriously know that many fish breeders?”
“Yes, I dated that one when I worked at the pet store. Then I dated the other guy who worked at the pet store after I quit, except I wasn’t friends with him while I was working there.”
“I think you’re lying. I don’t think there is such a thing as a fish breeder. Is it really a profession to tell fish how to get it on? Fish seem pretty horny. I think they can manage it on their own.”
Sarah was what some would call a whore. Well, I mean, not a whore. She had only actually done it with two guys. However, that was probably only because most guys didn’t stay with her long enough for Sarah to take her clothes off. Still, she dated a lot of guys.
All this probably sounds strange from someone who claims to be in love with her, but that’s only because I’m her best friend. Her best "girl friend," I guess. A man who wreaks of so much testosterone and masculinity such as myself isn't necessarily proud of that title, but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. She only has a couple friends who are girls, and they always fight, so she just tells me everything. At first I didn’t like it, but I’d rather know than be left wondering about what’s really going on.
“Whatever, can we please get back to the important thing here?” asked Sarah, exasperated.
“And that would be…?”
“That Lance is mad at me because I didn’t tell Jenny about Gary being addicted to mushrooms. He says that I should have told her because she still thinks he’s straight edge and they were going to go visit her Grandma next Wednesday afternoon, which is a big deal, but now Jenny is going to be mad.”
Sarah had the ability to talk so fast. She could also wiggle her ears and say the alphabet backwards. Sometimes I forget that Sarah is so abnormal, and I set everyone up to her standard, but their uninteresting personalities and lack of interest in fish breeding never cease to bore me. She’s the kind of girl that lights up the room even when she isn’t wearing her day glow t-shirt she stole from her ex-boyfriend/ part time body builder, Stan, who used to work at the baseball stadium selling Cracker Jacks.
“I still don’t understand how any of this is your problem. Can we just go back to fish? I much prefer talking about that, and I didn’t even like talking about that very much.”
Sarah stared down at the ice that was melting in her orange soda under the hot August sun and poked it with her long black straw. We must have looked like a movie scene sitting elegantly on Main Street atop the cobblestone street, enveloped by a giant green umbrella… sipping orange soda.
“I just can’t understand why you can’t listen to my problems for just one minute of your life!” Sarah burst out.
“What? Come on! You know that I’m in love with you, and you always make me sit here through telling me about all your boyfriends and how much you love them. Well, guess what Sarah… They don't love you! They all break up with you! Even the freaky fish breeders!” It seems I had let my temper get the best of my once again. I didn't enjoy yelling at Sarah. It was just that, she did these things... these stupid, stupid things, and before my mind could put a stop to it, my mouth would spew out ugly words in frustration and anger.
Sarah pushed her movie star-esque sunglasses back onto her nose, lifted her drink, and allowed her cup of orange soda to cascade over head, then coolly strode off towards her car. The manner in which her arms fell at her sides and her long, elegant legs maneuvered gracefully down the street would not allow me to stay mad at her, it only made me fall even more in love with her. Most people would probably scream and yell and then stalk off crying. But not Sarah. She knew slowly walking off would bother me more, because it would give me more time to look at the ass that currently belonged to a man named Lance.
I pushed my wet hair up out of my face, left ten dollars on the table, and began the twelve mile walk back to my house… Sarah had given me a ride.
