Margaritas (Story by Risa Peris)

It’s a horrible experiment. The one I am conducting with my heart. You see, I’ve decided not to attach myself to anyone. It’s easier than you think. In the movies, there’s always some guy or girl who secretly pines for you but acts rough and indifferent. They are hoping you will come to your senses. See them. Love them. 

I am lacking. A hollow heart. Oh, silliness. No. There is something in my brain that is lacking. Absent. A hole somewhere? A tumor? It’s not like I can go to a neurologist and explain to him or her that I do not feel appropriately. That I act with numbness. They would refer me to a therapist. I reject that. Mostly because I don’t want to change. I just want the diagnosis. For my catalog of depravities. 

Adrian was at the door. Flowers in hand. “It’s soon to be Spring,” he said. I smiled. Yes, I forced it. 

“How lovely.” I set them on the kitchen counter. I had no vase. Flowers were silly. Why bring something into your house that will just die in a few days and then you are left with as mess of hardened petals?

“Let’s get dinner.” Adrian was smiling widely. 

“I don’t do dinners.”

“You never eat dinner?”

“Only by myself.

“Come on.” Adrian pleaded. I shook my head. 

“Do you like me?”

I shook my head. “Look it’s just sex.”

Adrian walked slowly out of my apartment. I then made a pitcher of margaritas, got some chips and salsa, and watched Grace & Frankie. It was Saturday night. I was content. But as I watched the show I wondered. Deep wondering. Do I want to spend my whole life alone? Maybe I can start a new experiment. A closeness experiment. I don’t know how that works but I suppose I could call Adrian and offer him a margarita. That would be friendly, right? I just hope he doesn’t want to talk. I try to talk to as few people as possible on the weekend.

I texted. Adrian come back. I have margaritas. I added a smiley face. That’s what normal people do right?

THE END

 

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