"The Sixes and The Sevens"

A slice of life.

“I have this thing about setting the scene for stuff that I write.”

She glanced at him before looking down into the plastic cup she held between her hands.

“Is that what we’re talking about, then?”

He chuckled. “Conceited, I guess, right?”

She shrugged. “No, no, not really.”

He stretched his legs out and laid back against the tile. “What I mean is, I never know where to begin the description.”

She tapped her fingers against the cup.

He continued. “Sometimes I have this really vague idea for something, and all I can think about is one or two really concrete things. Then when I can’t weave it all together into something coherent, I lose my drive.”

She downed the rest of her drink.

He said nothing, and instead laid down and looked up at the ceiling. They sat and laid in silence for a few moments before she stood and stretched.

“I’m heading downstairs. You should come. Ray brought shrooms.”

He shook his head. “I’m good. I wanna feel grounded. Besides, the last time he brought ‘em, they were pretty s****y.”

She laughed. “Oh yeah, those were awful.” She walked to the door, tossing the cup onto him as she left.

“Fingers crossed,” she said as she left.

“Sure,” came his reply.

*

The door to the room opened, allowing light and sound into the otherwise silent room.

“You’re still up here?”

He looked up from his position on the floor. Recognizing her silhouette and voice, he laid down his head and nodded to himself before replying.

“Well, that question’s kind of redundant, seeing as you can see me right here.”

She moved into the room, closing the door behind her. The sounds of the people below were cut off.

“Could be the shrooms, man,” she replied as she fell back onto the sparse bed.

They were silent for a while. Her eyes adjusted after a few minutes and she could see dark forms of the few pieces of furniture the room contained; desk, chair, dresser. All shabby, though you couldn’t tell in the dark. She thought it was nice; the darkness left much to the imagination.

“I didn’t take any, though.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I don’t like them on my pizza.”

“They’re not the same.”

She laughed. “F**k that, you know I’ve done s**t. I’m just not in a high kind of mood, y’know?”

“I suppose, yeah.”

He cleared his throat before speaking again: “Comfortable silence.”

The furniture in the darkness seemed to pulse when she crossed her eyes. She was about to bring this to his attention when he spoke:

“I’m tired.”

“Of?”

“This room,” he replied. He slowly got to his feet. “I’m heading out. Need a ride?”

She thought about it. “Hmm…”

He walked to the door and opened it, a sliver of light blooming between the door jamb and the outer edge of the door. “I’ll be outside, man.”

“Alright.”

*

At the foot of the stairs, she ran into Travis, who to her looked absolutely s**t-faced.

“Where y’ going?”
“Gotta get home. Got work tomorrow and stuff like that.”

He lurched into her heavily, trying to balance himself and she pushed him away. He spilled a bit off the drink he carried onto her bare arm in doing so, and the breeze from the open front door made the cold vodka all the more frigid.

“Dude, go sit down. Come on.” She gave him a hug goodbye.

“I’m sorry, sorry. I’m sorry.” He burped into his hand and averted his eyes, stumbling out of the foyer and into the adjacent room. A blender sounded from the kitchen, and judging from the milk and ice cream that was visible on the counter, milk shakes were being made.

She walked into the sitting room, using her toe to sift through the considerable pile of coats and jackets that had accumulated, all the while wondering how to best save on her groceries tomorrow.

Finding the jacket in question, she bent to pick it up. The vodka from Travis’ drink earlier had run down her arm and slicked her hands. Her light grip wasn’t enough to lift the thing, and it fell to the ground.

She picked up her jacket from where she dropped it. On a whim, she brought it to her nose and sniffed it. “Smells like Smirnoff, now.” She shrugged it on and walked out of the open door.

The night air enveloped her. The sounds of suburbia were strangely absent this evening. Then again, they usually were. She wondered why there were sounds associated with the suburbs if more often than not they were silent.

A car at the end of the cul-de-sac was slowly doing doughnuts, then suddenly turned and began coming down the road. She recognized his car and walked down the pathway to the sidewalk, reaching the edge as he did her.

“Need a lift, slick?” He clicked his tongue at her.

“Oh, definitely.” She laughed a little and moved around the front of his car to the passenger side.

*