Gauche

I was now conscious, and saw red; nothing but a luminous red. I turned onto my side, groaning with each movement. Slowly, I opened my eyes and I flinched at the sting that came to them when my pupils came in direct contact with the light of the blaring sun. I stared for a moment, out the window, wishing I could stay in bed all day. I looked at the clock; only 8:46. I can rest my eyes for another 15 minutes. I pulled the covers up to my throat, and closed my eyes.

I woke up again at 10:32. So much for an early start. I rolled over, onto my back, and stared at the fan hanging from the ceiling. I studied all the curves and grooves that I've memorized over the past few months. It looked very dirty when motionless. How long has it been since I'd cleaned it?

Oh, yeah. Never.

My eyes widened a bit when I felt someone turn next to me. Slowly, I rolled my head over and looked to my right and saw that I was sharing a bed with someone. "Fucking great," I sighed as I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands. I froze that way for a moment. "Why do I keep doing this?" I asked myself. I dropped my hands to my sides, took one last look at the ceiling fan, and got out of bed.

I used the hallway bathroom so as not to wake up my special guest. The floor felt cold under my bare feet, and it made me jump a bit. I moved a pile of dirty clothes that were on the floor in front of the sink and used it as a rug. I looked in the mirror; such a mess. My hair was all over the place and my makeup looked horrid! I washed my face with warm water and took off all the eyeliner and mascara, and then I brushed my hair out and put it in a ponytail. Al natural. My eyes wandered lower at my reflection. I had a bruise on my upper, left thigh. "Where did that come from?" I wondered. I picked up some old jeans from the pile on the floor and put them on.

I walked out of the bathroom and looked in the direction of the bedroom, and I could see through the doorway that my special friend was out of bed. I continued into the kitchen and looked in the fridge. Nothing. Just a carton of milk that was probably expired, beer, some left-over Chinese food, and lots of condiment packets from several restaurants. There's never anything to eat in this damn icebox. Frustrated, I pulled out a beer from the fridge and shut the door. I leaned against the counter and thought about the stranger who slept on my sheets. What the hell am I going to say to this one? I hope he'll be just as uncomfortable as I am and leave.

"Um... 'Lo."
"Hey," I said. He wasn't bad looking at all. Nothing special about him; he was just your average Joe, but he wasn't bad. "Sleep well?"
"Uh, yeah," he said as he began to blush.

We just stood there, in silence. He looked around as though he was admiring the decor, but I could tell he was uncomfortable by the way he stood, his right arm across his chest as he gripped his left arm, and his inability to make eye-contact. Maybe I should say something. "You want a beer?"

"Oh, no actually. I've gotta go. I just remembered I've got to be somewhere in about a half hour, so..." he trailed off.
"Oh, I understand. Don't sweat it," I said with a shrug and a smile of relief. "I had fun...... um....."
"David. My name is David."
"Right! David. I knew that," I said with a chuckle. Of course, that was a complete lie. He could have been Alfred, or Joseph, or even Nancy for all I knew.

Another long pause.

"Well," he said with an awkward smile, "I'll see you 'round."
"Yeah, take care."
And then he was gone.

I walked to the window and peeked out from behind the curtains. He was walking down the walkway, scratching the back of his head as he looked around in complete confusion. I could tell that he had no idea what happened last night, and he had no clue as to where he was. He didn't hesitate a moment in getting into his old, black Corvette and driving away.

I rested my head and shoulder against the wall as I felt and studied the material of the heavy, red curtain. I wonder if I'll ever see him again. If I did, would I even recognize him? Would I be able to point him out in a crowd? What does it matter, anyway. He was nobody to me, and I was probably equally as significant to him. He's just another notch on the bed post.

I walked over to the giant, overstuffed couch and flopped myself down. The smell of dust that rose from the old thing was all too familiar now after living here for what felt like too long. The place was dark; only a few rays of light shone between the thick curtains that hung over the windows. I sat there for a moment, listening to the ticking of the clock and breathing slowly in unison. My eyes slowly rolled down to view the glass coffee table that was full of old magazines, music sheets, and other miscellaneous things. There, next to the ash tray, was a line left from last night. I leaned forward and picked up the razor, cleaned it up, and snorted the bit that was left.

A perfect start to a perfect day.