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Two girls sat across from one another at a small table drinking coffee and discussing various topics concerning their lives. A blonde, Liz; and a brunette, Sylvie. The two had known each other since the second grade and seemingly knew each other inside and out; from favorite shirts, to their secret stashes of stinky perfumes that ex-boyfriends had given them (and never worn). The latter was usually offered to the other in hopes that they wouldn't be caught in their near vicinity whilst sporting it.
As Liz sat drinking dark coffee across from Sylvie (who had been nervously staring into her sickeningly sweet milk-and-Hershey's-chocolate-syrup-diluted coffee cup, or Hot-Chocolate-Bang! As Liz referred to it.), the room became a bit too quiet for Sylvie's drastically important thinking, that was truly quite stagnant and lacked input.
"Can I ask you a hypothetical question, Liz?" Sylvie asked, rather timidly, though not for fear of Liz's response as for her reaction to the indirect confession she was making. Liz was most definitely the most open-minded among their group-- the only one to accept Sylvie's rash decision-making and irresponsible behavior without question.
"Yeah," Liz replied, dawning an exasperated grimace-- Sylvie was up to her usual havoc-wreaking, which often left Liz prone to being the object of authority. "Go ahead."
"Well, let's pretend for a second that you're bisexual," Sylvie gulped. She was renowned for her totally-open sexuality, which often was the root of her problems. "And that you've got a lovely boyfriend, who you love quite a bit."
"You're not dating any men..." Liz interjected, bringing her grass-green mug to her lips and nearly inhaling the caffeine that was needed in order to continue the present conversation.
"Just let me finish. Anyway, so your boyfriend leaves town for a week, right? And you're feeling really lonely and dejected and shit like that. If you go out with another woman... would that be cheating on him? I mean, he's straight... if that makes any difference."
"It doesn't," Liz stated firmly.
Sylvie rapped her knuckles against the side of her coffee mug, thinking this over thoroughly. "So it's cheating?"
"You don't have a boyfriend, Sylvie... unless you've been hiding something from me." Liz raised an eyebrow, causing Sylvie to sigh and place her chin in her palms.
"No. I'm the little slut she cheated on him with; and I'm feeling pretty bad... Mostly because I already KNEW she was dating somebody, but I didn't care..." she mainly said this last part for herself than for Liz, almost admitting to herself that she had been instantly "twitter-pated", and was now suffering through being enamored.
"Well, she's the one that'll have to deal with consequences... and you're not gonna try and mess with her again are you?" Another long gulp of caffeine, ricocheting with a slight buzz.
"No, not really." Sylvie began fidgeting: tightening her fingers around the tablecloth and tugging slightly.
"Not really? What does that mean?" Sylvie hesitated before answering, prompted by Liz's stern voice, "Sylvie..."
"It means I'll probably see her again, but I won't SEE her again." She dropped the white lace for a moment, but then grabbed hold once more, twisting the trim in her fingers and kneading in thought.
"She's not a co-worker is she? Because that'll screw up your working relationship..."
"No, she's not. She works at Rave... so you know, if I go there again--WHEN I go there again, I'll see her." Letting one hand drop from the fabric and clasp her warm mug, Sylvie brought it to her mouth and soaked in the sensation of Hot-Chocolate-Bang! Choking a little on the overwhelming sweetness.
"What happened?"
"We didn't have sex, if that's what you're asking." She set the cup down and bit on a few strands of hair that had evaded into her mouth.
"I'm asking you what happened." Liz clarified.
She brushed the hair out of her mouth, "Well... we were at the bar, and she was talking about her boyfriend, and how he's always off shooting different movies... and how she misses him all the time. And I was empathizing, telling her how I wish I could help. And she said, 'you CAN help,' and she kissed me really hard... and I lost it... but we just made out a lot... no sex." Sylvie assured, Liz sat back in her chair and thought this over a bit.
"That's not too bad, I don't think."
"You should've seen how worried she looked after we were done... she looked so guilty... she'll probably blame it on me, and send her boyfriend to kick my ass." She began tugging at the tablecloth once more, but Liz reached across the small table and slapped her hand, which became neatly folded into her lap.
"Who IS her boyfriend?"
"An actor... I don't remember who she said, but apparently he's pretty famous." Her fingers felt the lace again, picking nervously with her fingernails; Liz noticed this and shot her a glare from across the table, Sylvie's hand immediately dropped to her lap again.
"You'd better hope it's not Arnold Schwartzenegger." Liz said jokingly, taking a severely large mouthful of coffee.
"I'll get nailed by the terminator!" She dodged under the table in faux-fear.
"Hasta la vista, baby," Liz giggled.
"Do you think I should talk to her?" Sylvie asked, her head resurfacing.
"Who? The Terminator?"
"No! Kaylie!" Another sip of Hot-Chocolate-Bang!
"Who the hell is that?"
"The girl I was cheating with..." Sylvie's voice trailed off, but Liz didn't notice.
"Oh! God, I was way off track!" She set the mug down rather hard, causing slops of coffee to slosh up the insides of the mug and splatter onto the tabletop.
"I don't wanna know who you were thinking about." Sylvie joked.
"Yeah, you should probably talk to her." Liz agreed, not taking heed of her friend's previous comment.
"If we're still on speaking terms..."
"You'll have to find out."
Sylvie looked down at her blue and white cloud pajamas, and straightened the top as though Kaylie could waltz in at any second. The morning continued as any other, Liz drowned another cup of coffee; but Sylvie barely touched her Hot-Chocolate-Bang! Which was pretty unusual by her standards, though that was really the only obscure thing.
Saturday had been almost completely devoted to studies, so Sunday was their play-day. Sylvie had been pulled to the mall -- a bit reluctantly, by Liz who's heart was set on buying a denim skirt. Bumping through a few too many alumni for Sylvie's liking, she was able to slip away from Liz-and-friends, and spot Rave...
Unfortunately for Sylvie, there was no Kaylie to be seen -- but on the bright side, she made the best $12.00 investment of her life, on a coat that wasn't too practical, but fit great and Sylvie adored it. She also ended up buying a jangly bracelet that the sales girl insisted on because, "it brings out the color of your eyes so well! Plus it adds to the jacket..." Though how exactly something on her wrist that wasn't even remotely Schweppes-ginger-ale-can-green (as Sylvie reffered to them), could bring out the color of her eyes, was beyond her -- the key thing, was that it looked great with the jacket. So that was that.
Liz caught up with Sylvie quickly after this (Sylvie had turned around and found Liz standing in the doorframe, arms folded and smirking), and the two had killed some more time before Sylvie got drug down by some more old friends and Liz had gotten bored and gone home. Three-hundred-and-forty-eight terrible elephant jokes, and four Dr Peppers later, she excused herself from the group and pretended to run off to a bathroom; Sylvie had been blessed with a rather large bladder and made a mad-dash for the bus stop, arriving home twenty-three minutes later.
Their apartment was pretty 'unique' by all standards, designed in the 70's, it had all sorts of quirky little things; such as bright orange and pink walls that they weren't allowed to paint over, clashing with blue and yellow polka-dot carpeting that was also permanent. Their landlord was a tall, string-beaned hippie, who always reminded Liz of Andy Dick; his name was Steve.
Grabbing a bag of Doritos and plopping herself down in front of the TV, Sylvie managed to become rather entranced with 'Gone With The Wind', which happened to be playing on HBO. By the time it was over, she was in tears, mopping her face with tissues and absently moaning, "Rhett, no! Come back!"
After thinking over her sad situation, Sylvie realized exactly what she had been doing all day: Stalling. Not that there was anything to stall... right? After all, she had made a mistake and what's done is done... can't change the past; but Sylvie was very able to change the future -- whether for the better or worse, was still inconclusive. The main thing was that Sylvie was lonely, she hadn't been lonely when she'd been with Kaylie, and this light of hope was enough for her mind to bubble with possibilities. All corny of course, fantasies of midnight-meetings and kisses in the rain.
Of course, Sylvie's brain wasn't all tatooed with "I-Love-You" 's, she still had her wits about her; and come that evening, Liz still hadn't returned. 'Probably off on some sexcapade...' Sylvie mused. Though she was really just putting off picking up the receiver and dialing the Rave's number... she wasn't even sure if Kaylie would be working that night; however, by some power of the gods, a familiar voice did pick up.
"Rave, this is Kaylie, how may I help you?"
Sylvie took a deep breath, "Hi Kaylie. This is Sylvie..."
The conversation turned out smoother than Sylvie had expected, and by the time she got off the phone she bore a mile-wide grin and giggled slightly before twirling off to bed. If Sylvie had known real love before, she would have dismissed this feeling as pure giddiness; for in truth she was merely infatuated and nothing more. However, within this state, Sylvie could have easily turned thirteen years old again: filling page-upon-page of notebook paper with small hearts surrounding curly-Q's of 'K + S = LOVE'...
Alas, Sylvie was not thirteen years old anymore -- and instead dug through her closet and extracted a bent and crinkled copy of Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet'. Skimming through to the romance scenes and changing the names, before rehearsing the scenes aloud in front of her mirror; reminiscing in her mental picture of Kaylie hanging up glittered jeans on racks. After closing hours of course, when Kaylie was beginning to lock up... they would spot each other through the window: Sylvie indulging in an Orange Julius, Kaylie folding a pink rhinestone kitty shirt. The items would drop carelessly, and figures would clash at the door; Kaylie fumbling with keys, both shaking with anticipation...
Sylvie fell asleep on the floor, the book lying next to her curled body; breathing deeply into the blue and yellow polka-dotted carpet. The last chorus of Lightning Seed's song 'Pure' continuously skipping:
"Look at me with starry eyes,
push me up to starry skies.
There's stardust in my head,
pure and simple every time.
Fresh and deep as oceans new,
shiver at the sight of you.
I'll sing a softer tune,
pure and simple over you;
pure and simple just for you."
