A Much Needed Open Window

(Mar's story)

"Remember when I was little?" I asked my sister as we were on our way to take a pit stop at the house, "Remember how I use to walk back and forth in the parking lot, and that was my favorite thing to do."

"Yeah, I felt so sorry for you," my sister replied. For that second I could feel honesty crawling into my lungs admitting that I too, felt sorry for myself.

I use to walk back and forth in the parking lot of our old condo. It was in result of being the youngest out 6 children, and everyone wanting to play their hand as the disciplinary. After I realized that they took away my video games, my action figures, everything, I was tired of giving them that chance to take things away from me. I slept on the floor of the living room, I got yelled at when my mom tried to give me food, I was a pathetic boy in a pathetic world where everyone took everything I wanted, including all the bits of hope, away. It all resulted in me spending some of my best years as a child, in the parking lot, alone, thinking. My sister buys all these toys for her daughter, ultimately always reminding me that she wants to give her baby all the things that we never got as children.


* * * * * * *

On the map of California, you'd find me in Richmond today, a supposedly "okay" place to be. Without mobility and having my sister drive me everywhere, it's kind of like middle school. But, it's also kind of like better than real life. Staying here lets me keep hold of my sanity. It's basically rehabing. My sister and I agree on the same things at least some of the times, and being able to agree with someone gives me that sense of knowing that maybe I am doing something right. My sister and I being ten years apart, but being from the same home, kind of reconciles a well balance of differing generational interest and harboring a keen sense of comfort.

I tried to read Angel's Game at the nearest Barnes and Nobles. As soon as we got there, my sister with her baby were planning on sleeping in the SUV. I was by myself. I'm sure I burned through 2 sets by going direct and freaking them out. It goes to show, that meager compliments aren't always the way to go when attempting to satisfy someone's distinct willingness to be infatuated. Behind the cafe register stood two compellingly attractive women. One brunette, with an almost crooked yet adoring smile. The blonde, who's cleavage spoke of a glistening lustrous convection, stood politely encompassing boredom. Later there was also a brunette at Ross with adorable features worth mentioning. At every store there's that one amazing beauty, that girl you'd wish did porn, that girl you felt had no idea how incredibly delightful it is to be standing in her presence.

There's nothing to do in this city. I could feel my imperfections in the game eat at me. Why couldn't I do things correctly? Is it the direct opener, should I change my approach, what? Am I conveying the same type of fun, in your face, confidence. What?

There was a time a few months ago, when I walked into a Starbucks after finding a lack of social opportunity at the nearby bar. I never really gamed at Starbucks; the only time I gamed was when it fell right into my hand, either sitting next to each other, or being stuck in line with each other. I saw these two guys who I was acquainted with back in high school. When a girl with her, most probably gay, friend walked into the store, I made a bet that I could pick the girl up. The bet was on, I walked in, introduced myself to the gay friend, and told him that I felt that his friend is absolutely beautiful. Kino, cut, number, left walked out to find them still sitting on the patio furniture, amazed. Another girl walked in and one of the guys said, open that girl- it will entertain me. I went in, walked up to her, asked her if she was a Cancer, spinned words, twirled her, sat her down on another table out on the patio, wink winked at my betting adversaries, talked, waltz, twirled again, paper and number. Those were good days, burning confidence like it was second nature.

Today with my lips shuddering, my fingers shuddering, and my mind on several planes accomplishing absolutely nothing, my game just isn't what it use to be. I walked through the aisles, Angel's Game in my hand earning a severe reading disinterest. I passed by the sci fi section, ornamented with the suttle appearance of a blonde with her scarf and her black and white plaid rainboots. I walked by, the hindering voices of failure telling me to leave, do not approach, you suck.

"Nice boots," I said shivering like someone who hasn't done this over and over for the past 2 years. I kept my step walking, it wasn't because it's a technique used to display a lack of interest, but because I wanted to avoid losing at anything.

"Thanks," she replied steadily.

I was just about a step or two away from reapproachable distance, I was about to go. "Could I ask you, are you libra?"
"No," she said a hidden captivating interest bestowing in the borders of her irises.
"Oh, I kind of felt this libra.... like energy when I passed you." I could feel my feet tingling, moving away from her. Not technique, just instinct.
I felt her quietly gazing at me, wondering what I was going to say, or how I was going to explain myself. I was starting to feel stupid.
"I'm a scorpio...." Her eyes shaped. She hooked. I HOOKED! I fucking hooked her.

From those unpractical statements, everything pulled together. I took her hand, telling her what the length of her fingers meant to her organizing skills, leaving my eyes to bathe in hers. I pointed out the freckles on her neck, asking her that if I touched them, would I get infected; a suttle neg with an edgy intent to discover her with careful delicateness. My fingers gently touched the bumps on her neck, and slid across the bumps on her arms. I felt the permission to feel comfortable, but only because she was comfortable.

Her face awoke the same sentimental reflections dawned on past targets, Ava and Pais. The feeling that I could sit in a car for hours talking about nothings, just like Ava. The belief that I could do no wrong, just like Pais; before I did do wrong. The feeling that everything would eventually fall into itself, that same ease, that same feeling, I also inhaled from Mar. Her name was Mar. The way her eyes tilted when we talked, the way her lips gently pulled into a smile, all spoke the underlying blanket of friendship. It wasn't work, it wasn't push pull, it was just two people lucky enough to cross each other's paths and immediately find everything inside of each other leading to trust.

We glided from story to story. We talked about how I worked for porn, as a content writer, in the vibrant defining occupation of a writer. She worked for a publisher. I felt kind of weak, kind of dumbfounded, standing in front of the girl with a big girl job, and me talking all big about the exciting industry of porn. It's not a lie, I do or did work for porn before the website ran out of work for me to do. Eventually we talked about being intercepted in the Sci Fi section. She was looking for a Sci Fi book, I told her about my book, Angel's Game, and the imminent literature and crafting of words. She seemed less interested in what I was reading other than me.

"Okay, I need to ask you a devestating detrimental question which will determine whether or not this conversation can move forward," I asked.
"Ummm sure."
"Twilight, your opinion?"
".... no." she said indefinitely. I rolled my eyes away, curling my legs away from her, leaving her in the sci fi section alone, as she wondered what she said wrong.
"So last March..." I said coming back to her. I told her about how I auditioned for Twilight. Great DHV story. Although I lost a target which was a pretty sure thing, because of this gambit. That girl, Tricia, ended up disliking me and thinking that I was a total sci fi geek for saying so.

"I've seen the movie, but that's because my sister's totally in love with it," Mar said applying a ceasefire or some type of approval. "I more came just to, y'know, talk."
"Oh I so hate you," I replied with glossy eyes, "You're exactly the girl I came to the theatre with, she would not stop talking, every 3 minutes was 'why,' or 'sparkle sparkle." I could see a smile slowly manifesting as the story went on.

Our conversation was becoming evident that we couldn't just stand here enjoying each other's company. Mar had to leave to find the book she originally was looking for, before she was well intently vibrantly derailed. As we stood in front of the customer service, I could see my sister gesturing to me that we had to leave. My sister would rather prefer it if I didn't go off in the hopes to suggestively engage other women. I had to leave, I had to push conclusion. Hey we should make friends, I said talking out of my ass. She agreed happily, but after she left me her number, I made the mistake as to ask for her facebook too, deeming me needy. I pulled her arm in, reached under her other arm, and hugged her, leaving her with the customer service guy who didn't look all that interested, but evenly looked AFC.

I left, the keen outline of her face fading into the back of my mind; in a good way. I wasn't optimistic after that rigid number close. I could feel the dark blue thread drawing attention away from an almost perfect red silk.