| There's a group of us walking through town. I'm talking and laughing with my friend, Jeanie, and a gap has opened between us and everyone else. Our conversation slows for a natural pause, then she says: �Can I ask you something?� �Shoot!� �Well, is this leading anywhere? I mean, you and me � are we going anywhere here?� Woah! Did I hear that right? It totally throws me. I stop and look around, half expecting someone else to be there. But, of course, there's just us and she's talking to me. I look at my shoes, I look at our friends crossing the road up ahead, I look at the traffic. I look at my shoes again. I look anywhere except in her eyes because that would mean confronting the issue head on and I'm not sure I really want to do that. In fact, I'm pretty certain I don't want to do that. �Err,� I venture, scratching around in a mind suddenly vacant, unfurnished, available for rent. �You know, we've been friends for a while now and we get on really well. I really enjoy talking to you and� well, aren't you going to say something?� I stop looking around and I do it; I look her right in the eye. As I do it, the last trace of any ability to think takes a hike. God, I wish I smoked. I find myself wondering, for no apparent reason, what I'm supposed to do with my hands while I talk. I imagine myself pulling out a cigarette and nonchanently sparking up before coming out with a Bogart-cool reply. You know, a real classic that would show I truly care about her without committing myself to anything. It doesn't happen. �You're my best friend,� I try, shoving my hands deeper in my pockets. �I love the time I spend with you. I really enjoy talking to you and we have a laugh. I value that.� The ground is opening up under my feet and I fall in. I'm swimming in concrete. Well, my mind is and that's the same thing, isn't it? No. It isn't. Reality bites. Shit. I hate this stuff. What happened to going out and catching a movie? Having a few beers, having a laugh? Maybe going out on the beach and looking for shooting stars, talking about life, the universe and everything? Everything but this. We start moving forwards again, moving further down the road, not really catching up with the others but still in sight. �Why can't we just carry on as we are? Why does it have to get serious? I mean, does everything have to be right now?� This, to my mind, is at least getting a little closer to expressing what I'm feeling. She's thrown me a curve ball but now at least I'm swinging. �Well, Ann says we could make a great couple and�� Shit. Ann. She's put her up to this! What's she been saying? �What's Ann been saying?� �Please don't go and change the subject. It's got nothing to do with Ann!� �Sounds to me like it's got quite a lot to do with Ann!� I know I'm skating on thin ice here, but I'm counting on moving off before it cracks. I know Ann means well and I have a pretty good idea she likes me, but there are some things I just don't want to deal with at this time in my life and if I can avoid them, so much the better. Option B: single self-discovery and fun with friends, looks just great from where I'm standing. Why would I want to open Pandora's Box? Or let this particular Jeanie out of the bottle? Maybe I should ask for three wishes? Ha ha. I'm smiling and Jeanie smiles back at me, oblivious to my internal dialogue, although she'd probably smile at that too. I hope. �Look, I just want to know how you feel, okay? I mean, I know we're friends but is there a possibility of us becoming anything closer in the future? I feel like there's a possibility for something a bit deeper here. I want to know if you like me.� Of course I like her! What sort of dumb-ass comment is that? Of course, I realise that she's nervous and what she really wants is reassurance that she's not being a dumb-ass at all so I firmly resolve not to say 'dumb-ass' to her. While doing this, I filter out all her other questions because they are probably better dealt with in the morning, or tomorrow afternoon, or at the weekend. Maybe never if I can get away with it. �Who knows, Jeanie? Of course I like you. You're smart, you're funny, you're quick. You look after yourself and you care about things. I mean, really care about things. I love the way you describe things.� I realise I've said 'things' three times now and I know this is lame, so I regroup. �You have great talent and I'm not sure anyone ever tells you that, which is charming and lovely.� I realise I'm rambling so I stop. I wish for that mythically inspiring smoke again, in vain. �Look, Jeanie, I really don't know about this right now. I really value our friendship. You make me laugh and you make me smile. And talking to you always makes me feel good. Maybe I just need some time to think about it, okay? I mean it's not like I'm leaving the planet or anything. Let's just see how things go and keep enjoying each other's company.� �Oh,� I can see she looks upset. Just for that split second, then she pulls herself out of it. �Sure. Okay, I didn't mean to push anything. I like our friendship too. I just felt I should ask about the possibilities and open the subject up because my friends keep asking and maybe you were thinking about these things too and �� And she moves on to talking about her friends and then on to something completely different. And with that I know I'm off the hook. And before I know it, the radio alarm is going off and I'm woken up to the sound of rock music. And I foggily remember my friend through the haze and I smile, and then I remember what really happened. And I realise she didn't ask those questions, I did. And I think, 'Shit. What have I done? What haven't I done?' And the sun comes up just like it did yesterday, except today I seem to have turned into Nick Hornby, and whatever, it's not quite the same. � Keith Jefferies 2000 |
 |
| Thin Ice by Keith Jefferies |