Summer Soap, Part 12: A last conversation... a final confrontation

Sir Bran:

I draped my arms over the blonde doll. “Wow, would you look at that? Tell me kid, are you as smart as our girly here? Or just pretty? At the very least I’m glad you’re finally taking my advice, Alexis.”

I patted him on the chest before sliding back. Where did I leave my beer? “You should be asking pretty boys like our friend here, not the geriatric lot I keep catching you with.”

“You two, uh, have history? This your boyfriend?” the pretty boy said.

“No!” Alexis snapped, but I was already drifting away as she continued.

Along the wall I watched my friends ogling the three of us. I waved them off and mouthed I’ll be right back. It wouldn’t take long, I’d prove her wrong, get my closure, and be back in time to watch the match. She was infuriating. We should have had this conversation days - no, weeks ago, I reminded myself. I had been rash, gotten emotional. But she had overreacted, been too emotional. It wasn’t my fault.

“Bran!” Alexis repeated. “Are you even listening? This is not happening. Go back to your group of tools and leave me be. I was just finishing here anyways.”

“No.” Anger bubbled within me and I leaned forward once more to rest on the young man’s shoulder. “No. No. No. You’ve been pushing this off. I’m here, you’re here. Her eyes pierced through my own. I could tell she was strangling me in her mind. “And hey, we’re in a public place. Isn’t that what you wanted?” I laughed.

“Fine.” She said, to my shock. “Fine. You know what, this is a perfect time. I’m on a roll so let’s hear it. Prove me wrong, I know you were listening in, stalker.”

I blinked, stared at her for a moment. Blinked again. My vision was dancing but I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. “Great!” I clasped the young man in a hug from behind to numb the anxiety. “I won’t waste your time or my breath, let’s get to the point. You’re hideous.”

Her eyebrows shot into her hairline. “That’s your big point? That’s what you’ve been following me around all this time to say? What you’ve already told me a dozen times?”

“Ugh, come now, Alexis. Keep up. You’re nothing to look at, yet I love you.” I meant to put it in the past, but I couldn’t take back my words. I could only keep talking. “That doesn’t fit your paradigm. We would talk for hours and just like now, you would say that love starts with beauty and develops from there.”

I turned to the young man I still had squeezed. “See? You must get it, you’re pretty like me. This girl’s too obsessed with her own definitions and ‘research’. She just can’t accept that someone like you and me would be attracted to her. Well, how unfortunate, now she’s lost her chance.”

“Oh for f-” Alexis inhaled deeply, holding back. “Never mind, I take it back. Bran, can you go find literally anywhere else to exist. I agreed to talk about love, not us.”

“But doesn’t it all fit together?” I kept my gaze on the blonde, unable to look at her. His large, deer-like eyes beaded back into mine. “I found you repulsive, and yet when you spoke it was as though my mind was looking at some beautiful soul. Your ladder doesn’t fit.”

“Oh Bran.” Alexis jumped to her feet and only then did I look at her. She was putting her coat on, despite her glass only being half-empty. We’re not done, I only just started. “You are so damn pretentious.” She stepped around the blonde and put her hand on the flat of my back as I looked up at her. “You found me pretty enough before I rejected you.”

She let out a sigh and stepped toward the door.

“You’re just a sore loser. Don’t talk to me about love.”

I sputtered in response but she was already gone. The alcohol was fading in my bloodstream, awareness, frustration, anger, all rushing in. I could feel the bartender’s eyes on me. Could feel the blonde’s eyes darting between me and the closing door. I could feel her footsteps, one by one, carrying up the hill toward Miyazaki.

“Another one.” I snapped at the bartender. How dare he judge. “Now. And a round of Jameson for me and my friends.” Or should I leave? I could feel all their eyes, everyone in the room staring through me. Find somewhere else to watch the match. “Two for me.”

I hopped to my feet, and nearly fell. My mind was clearing but my body was still enthralled by the alcohol. I needed more. I needed to make my two parts even again. I needed to lose my care. That was it. I’d drink. And my friends would forget. And we wouldn’t talk about it. We’d watch the match on our phones, maybe walk into town and find a better pub to watch from. I’d tuck it all away and never have to think about love again.