Always a Friend

My cigarette smoldered in its tray as I gazed at the name and number scribbled on the back of the pack that I knew I’d never call. The porch acted as a kind of shelter from the bright blue night that was crashing down on me. Looking down the road, it could have been any other street. I glanced at my whiskey on ice. The ice had nearly melted and my shirt clung to my chest. Summer was over now, but you could hardly tell. 

A figure turned down the street. She kept her head down and walked with purpose. Her hair was flying in the early autumn wind, as I started to make out that it was a friend of mine. Maria. She had that look that she sometimes got in her eyes. Making a b-line for my house, she stumbled a bit on the curb and made a big show of collecting herself. 

She climbed up my front porch and crashed down next to me. I hardly looked over—only enough to notice she had a new nose ring. Her hair was roughly pulled back into a lazy bun and she smelt like she’d been out for a couple of nights. 

“New piercing?” I asked.

“Yeah, they’re still sore,” she said, holding her chest. 

“I meant your nose.”

Maria laughed and said she forgot about that one. She wouldn’t tell me about any other new piercings but did mention that she needed a drink. She normally drank Jameson and ginger, so I kept it even though ginger ale made me feel sick. 

When I came back out with her drink, she was smoking one of my cigarettes. She already smelt like smoke and gin, covered up by cheap peony perfume. No wonder she looked so thin, all she ate these days was whiskey and gin. I handed her the drink, and said, “Feel free to smoke all my cigarettes. Cheers.”

“To the lost souls,” she dramatically raised her glass to mine while examining the cigarette pack. “Who’s Maddie?”

“Doesn’t matter now.” I thought about what to say for a minute. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“It doesn’t feel that way, though.”

“Neil said you were doing ok.”

She laughed, “What does he know?”

“I guess he was wrong then?” I laughed at the question. She gave a half smile back at me to try and say she was doing alright but it wasn’t very convincing.

We sat there in silence drinking for a few minutes, both of our glasses sweating in the September heat. It had been a while since we’d talked. That’s usually how it went when one of us was seeing someone, and I suspected why she was here. Trying to confirm my suspicions, I broke down and asked why the Hell she was here?

Tears immediately streaked down Maria’s face, and I regretted asking. She tried to put her drink down but missed and the glass shattered. That was fine, I needed new ones anyway. I got up and hugged her while she used my shirt as a tissue. Maria tried to apologize, but I told her that she had nothing to be sorry for. Looking up, she told me that she’d broken up with her boyfriend, Jason. Her eyes were all I could see, while she smiled at me like a friend. 

“Can we go inside?” she asked.

My house was a mess and I was hoping to have avoided that but said yes anyway. The floor needed sweeping, at least. We walked past the living room with an old gray couch and through the dining room that didn’t have a table or chair and into the kitchen. She tossed her purse, which I happened to know she kept a knife and mace in, on my kitchen table. I offered her another drink.

“Yeah, Tanqueray and tonic this time.”

“Lime?”

“What do I need the lime for?”

“What do you need the tonic for?”

Maria laughed, “You’re right. I don’t need it but drinking gin by itself feels like a slippery slope. Doesn’t it?”

I nodded, making the drinks. She seemed happy enough with it. I almost asked what happened with Jason but thought better of it. This wasn’t the first time we’d gotten drunk after a breakup. It started back in high school and never really changed. Back then, we’d steal what we could get our hands on and go deep into the woods behind her parents’ house. Now, we just hung out in one of our kitchens, thinking about how much better it used to be. A couple of times back then I thought there might be a good time to try and kiss her, but never had the confidence. A lot of guys came around for her back then. I was a mess, but we were friends anyway. 

Maria was still dating the same kind of guy. She tended to like sketchy guys. This most recent guy wasn’t always that, but he was enough. I knew better than to ask what he did. At least one of the guys she’s dated ended up in jail. I think he was out for a while, but I heard he was back in. Something about weapons while he was still on parole. 

Her roots were showing. Right before we finished our undergrad she’d decided to go blond. It didn’t suit her, though. “Is wearing your hair like that comfortable?” I asked. 

“It’s fine.”

“Seems annoying.” 

I thought long hair must be annoying in general. The only time I’d bothered to try and have long hair was in middle school, but the nuns made me cut it the second it got to my collar. A ponytail seemed more comfortable than a bun. That’s how she used to wear it for track meets. Our meets were co-ed, so we’d run on the same track. I was never much of a runner, but the coaches never paid any attention to the throwers, which made it easy to sneak off and smoke pot before we’d throw the javelin. 

My mom used to joke that we were born for each other. A lot of people thought that, but it was always more sister and brother thing than anything else. For a while, people used to joke that we were dating but trying to keep it secret. The joke for why we were keeping it secret always changed, but the most common one was that we were really cousins. 

I hadn’t minded the jokes—not really, at least. A part of me had always wondered what it would be like if they’d been true, though not the bit about being cousins. Seeing her was always the best part of my day back then. In the mornings, I’d scan the horizon to see her in her dad’s awful red Sebring. It was the only thing exciting to happen before lunch on a given day. After school, I would walk her home before going to my place down the block. On days when it rained, she’d sing that pina colada song to me and I still order them every now and again, even though I hate coconut. 

One day, a bunch of us were able to steal a collection of beers from our parents and we ended up back at another friend’s house. His parents were out doing something for his dying grandmother. One thing led to another, and we ended up playing truth or dare—the way teenagers tend to do. That was when I kissed a girl for the first time. After a while someone got the idea to dare Maria and me to go into the bathroom and make out for some length of time. We got in, turned on the bathroom fan, and looked at each other. I remember my stomach turning over as we looked at each other. She burst out laughing. Leaning her head on my chest, Maria whispered that we should pretend we kissed instead. Nobody would know the difference. 

“Do you mind if I smoke in here?”

“Fuck it. Why not?” I said, pouring another drink for myself. Maria’s glass looked like she was fine for now. “Hey.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember back in high school when we played truth or dare?”

“Which time?”

“The first time. When they all thought it would be funny to make us do seven minutes in heaven on the toilet.”

She laughed, “Yeah, I do.”

“Do you remember what we talked about when I walked you home?”

“How Sara needed Chapstick, and you wished you flossed once in a while?”

“Not that. We made one of those stupid packs that if we were both single at thirty, then we should get married.”

Maria looked down at her drink, shaking the ice around. She remembered. My stomach was doing summersaults again. Why did I bring that up? We still had a couple of years to go. She’s going to think I’m coming onto her right after a breakup. “Well, maybe we should push it back to thirty-five,” I said.

She threw her head back and laughed, before having me make her another drink. I smiled, figuring I’d covered my ass pretty well. I told Maria that I was almost out of gin, and she made a joke that I’d have to run out for more because she wouldn’t be reduced to beer. 

“Do you know how many bad jokes of his that I made myself laugh at?”

“Nope. I really don’t.”

Take a guess,” she smiled and leaned towards me.

“A half dozen.”

She rolled her eyes, “I wish. He never stopped with these jokes about all the different things that I probably wanted to do because I’m a woman.”

“So a shopping spree won’t cheer you up? I’m going to have to change up our entire weekend plans.”

She laughed and I wondered if I should push her to talk more about him. Did she want me to shit on him? Did she just want an outlet to complain to? I’d probably be out of place to say something rude, but maybe she’d like that. If we talked about it too much, would it upset her or make things better?

Before I could decide what to say next Maria asked me, “Do you think I’m going back to him?” She looked at me desperately, like she needed to be told she was doing the right thing. 

“Probably.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m sure you feel that way now.”

“I do.”

“Good. Enjoy your freedom.” I hesitated, “So, why’d you ask?”

She sprung up and walked over to me. “To see what you’d say,” she giggled like a schoolgirl, close to my face. She grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me into the living room. 

“I can’t keep sitting around,” she said. “So…you’re gonna distract me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup,” she skimmed through my records, eventually deciding on A Moon Shaped Pool. It wouldn’t have been my first choice, but I hadn’t used the record player in months, so no music probably would have been my real first choice. My entire vinyl collection was from a few years ago when I was trying to create a kind of aesthetic for myself. 

Maria grabbed me by the wrists and started pulling on them to work me like a puppet. It didn’t take long for me to give in, and we started dancing this awkward kind of dance to Burn the Witch. I spun her. She spun me—I had to duck down to get under her outstretched arm. We went back and forth, tripping over our feet. I was getting drunk and knew she was too. Daydreaming came on. My hand was on her hip and my stomach turned over and over. Then, the world was cloaked in silence and we stopped dancing to stare into each other’s eyes. She was breathing heavy and I wasn’t breathing at all. Eventually, one of us surrendered and we kissed. 

“You know…I’ve loved you a long time,” I whispered a fraction of an inch from her mouth. She didn’t say anything, kissing me again. Longer and more aggressive. We fell on the couch. Leaning back, she propped her head up with the armrest and I hovered above her, using one arm to hold myself up. It’s impossible to say how long we stayed like that, suspended in time. I hesitated before reaching under her sweatshirt, looking to unclasp a bra that wasn’t there. She told me to wait and I pulled my hand back.

Maria pulled back and started to sit up. “Why’d you do that?”

“I just—”

“Why the fuck did you do that?”

“I—”

“It was just supposed to be a good time…a laugh. Why’d you have to make it real?”

I fell back and lay down on the ground, rubbing my eyes. “I don’t know what I did. Really, I thought we were gonna fool around a bit.”

“We were…just not that.”

It was quiet for a minute. We looked at each other and I could see her biting her lip. Neither of us knew who was going to speak next.

Finally, she broke down and said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” 

By now she was really crying. Normally, I’d try and comfort her but was holding back tears myself. Besides, it didn’t seem entirely appropriate, given the circumstances. She said, “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have any reason to be sorry.”

She nodded to say she understood. I tried to get up but fell over. Once I was able to get on my feet, I sat back down on the couch next to Maria. I reached for her hand, but she flinched. I told her, “You know, I do know you.”

“Oh, you know me?”

“Yeah…I think so.”

She checked her pockets for cigarettes, but she was out. I told her they were still in the kitchen and she got up to go grab them. I thought about what I’d say when she got back but had no idea. So, I didn’t. Hopefully, she’d say she should probably leave. But she didn’t. She came back and we quietly smoked together. Maria examined the filter while I watched the smoke stain my ceiling. Outside, the wind sounded like it was laughing. I glanced over at Maria and said, “Why are you so hard for me? Don’t answer that.”

“What?”

“Can we pretend tonight didn’t happen?”

“Is that how you handle problems? Pretending they didn’t—that they don’t exist?” she said with her eyebrow raised. “That’s good to know if we’re gonna be married.”

“Married?”

“Yeah. You said thirty-five, right? Well, we’re on our way.”

I laughed. There wasn’t anything left to do. Maria didn’t want to watch the TV, so I grabbed her a pillow and blanket. She said she didn’t need anything else to crash on my couch. I watched as she ripped her contacts out, throwing them on the floor. She’d survive one night without brushing her teeth, I’m sure she’d done it before. 

“Should I just leave?” she asked. I didn’t answer. 

I stumbled upstairs and went to my bed but as soon as I lay down the world turned upside down. Around and around again. I felt myself call out for Maria, but no noise came from my mouth. Instead, I fell out of bed and ran for the bathroom where I collapsed over the toilet and threw up the liquor I’d had. Looking up, I saw my pale face in the dusty mirror. Rubbing my scruffy double chin, I hardly believed it was me. I got sick again before crawling into the tub to sleep. 

By the time I woke up, she was gone. I was alone, wondering when we’d do this again. The only sign she’d been there was a neatly folded blanket on an old pillow. 

ABOUT

Dan Morrison is a college football writer for On3. In the past, his work has been published in journals like Zephyr Review, the Academy of Heart and Mind, and Zoetic Press’ NonBinary Review. He currently lives in Central Florida. You can find him on Twitter here.