Ice chomping

“Listen, I’m not bi-polar,” she said to me over lunch, tightening the tension in the air around us.

“Okay,” I said, because I knew that’s what needed to be said.

Her eyes didnt blink.  I just sipped my water and held her gaze.  Unspoken words and deflated dreams danced around, whispering in our ears,  begging for a fight.  Sometimes you just lift a finger, and fists will fly. But this time, I didn’t dance.  Too much at stake to speak my mind. 

“So what should we talk about then?”  I asked.  

“Lets talk about you, ” she replied.

I chomped on my ice. “Well, I’m not bi-polar either,”  I poked. 

“Jenny, you can be a real bitch sometimes.”

“Yeah.  That’s true,” I agreed.

Her laugh cracked the tension just a little.

“So, ” I asked her, “What about you?”  “What can you be sometimes?”

“Me? – I dont know.  I don’t know what I am,”  she said, her tone distinctly softer.  

“I guess that’s the truth then,”  I pondered.  “Maybe, you dont need to decide today.”

She finally blinked.  The waiter brought our food and refilled my glass.

“Wanna share my fries?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s been a long time since I had curly fries, she smiled.”

“Me too,” I exhaled.  “Me too.”

~ jrb

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