You Don't Know Me Anymore

They sat across from each other. She looked at the ceiling. He looked at the floor.

It was winter outside. They were both cold, but she was the only one to show it. Her arms wrapped around herself, hands clinging to elbows, fingers digging into sleeves.

He leaned forward, elbows on bended knees. A dark spot on the rug is what held his gaze.

A water spot on the ceiling is what held hers.

Neither of them knew why she was there. Him most of all. She probably knew why. Somewhere. Probably.

They didn't talk for a very long time.

They had been out in the snow. The flakes were enormous. They looked like cotton balls, that's how big they were. They looked like cotton balls floating quiety to the ground. A street lamp across the way showcased a swirling bubble of cotton balls, and if the two had looked around they would have seen it and they could have appreciated it. But he was busy looking at her and she was busy wishing he wouldn't.

She finally asked him to stop. That's when he decided to not speak. To not speak unless spoken to.

Why was she here?

They went inside slowly. It was colder inside than it was in the snow.

He didn't ask her if she wanted something to drink. He wasn't talking, remember? And he didn't care to be polite. She wasn't thirsty anyways. They went downstairs, because that's where they always went. He sat on the floor, 'cause that's where he always sat.

She sat in the big green chair. She used to sit on the floor, too. But this time she sat in the big green chair.

"It's cold," she said.

"Yeah," he said.

They were quiet again, but not for as long.

"Why am I here?" she asked herself outloud.

He looked up at her. She didn't look back, but she could feel him. She could feel his eyes on her. She wanted to yell at him, but she didn't know why.

"I don't know," he said.

She glanced at him for a second then looked away. "It's so fucking cold. Can I turn on the fire?"

"It's broken."

It wasn't.

"Can you hand me that blanket then?" she asked.

He tossed it at her.

She wrapped it around herself tight.

Two winters ago they had sat outside until they were so numb. They had been under the same blanket. They even held hands.

The winter after that, the winter just before this one, they never saw each other even once.

She breathed in through her teeth quickly, sucking in words she decided not to say at the very last second.

He stared at her harder. She wanted him to stop, but she was the one who had come here, remember? She had come here without any warning. Not even a phone call. She had just showed up, and he had been home, home all by himself, and she drove slowly into the driveway and stood outside until he saw her and his heart seized and he put on his boots and he went outside to meet her and she had said Hello and he had said Hello back and he had looked at her and she had asked him to stop. She was the mystery. He was just looking for clues.

"I'm sorry," she said, squeezing the blanket.

"For what?" he asked.

"I don't know why I'm here."

He looked at the dark spot again. "I still love you," he said.

"No you don't."

Silence.

"Why not?" he whispered.

"You don't even know me anymore."

"You don't know me either."

"You're right."

"I still love you."

"Then make it stop."

"How do I do that?"

Silence.

"I don't... I don't know."

"How did you stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Loving me."

"It just..." She was picking at her nail polish. Specks of dark red fell all over the blanket. "It just went away."

He shook his head.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"I don't fucking know." She left her nails alone and glared at him. "I have no fucking idea."

"Then leave, please."

"I don't know where to go."

He shook his head harder.

Outside, the snow stopped.

Slowly and quiety she lowered herself off the big green chair and onto the floor in front of him. "I'm going to kiss you, but you can't kiss me back."

"That's not fair."

"Those are the rules."

She leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. He didn't kiss her back. She pulled back and looked at him. He leaned forward. She didn't move. He looked at her in the eyes for a very long time.

Her heart seized.

"I want you to leave me alone," he said.

She stood up and left and he stayed on the floor.

She walked outside. It was dark. The street lamp had gone out. She walked to her car and almost slipped. She opened the door and got inside and started the engine and drove away. She rolled down her windows and turned the radio off and when she got home she went to bed but didn't fall asleep until the sun was coming in through her windows.

The next winter, the winter after this one, they didn't see each other even once.

Regrets And Some Words She Says

"Everyone liked that about you - your sense of humor. They'd tell me how lucky I was to be dating such a funny guy. I never got that. I mean, yeah, you always made me laugh, but I found you a different kind of funny. The kind of funny they'd talk about, you know, the sardonic comedian who is kind of a jackass... that's who you'd be around everyone else. You were that pretend funny guy around everyone else, but around me you could just be normal you. And I found that you entertaining. I remember you said that's what you liked about me. I never really liked the other you, and maybe that's why you eventually decided it wouldn't work. But that normal you, the real you, I loved him bad..."

Part 4 of 10 In New Ten Part Series: 100 Things I Want To Do Before I Die

31) Answer the door naked.

32) Destroy a hotel room.

33) Spend the night on a beach.

34) Egg the house of a nemesis.

35) Make the world's biggest snow fort.

36) Audition for "So You Think You Can Dance?"

37) Pee into the Grand Canyon.

38) Force myself to finally somersault.

39) Make a three piece suit for myself.

40) Pimp my ride.

Part 5 Coming Soon!!!

Part 3 of 10 In New Ten Part Series: 100 Things I Want To Do Before I Die

21) Hijack a scooter.

22) Visit a therapist for a month. I'm so curious about what they would say.

23) Poop in this toilet.

24) Master juggling.

25) Move far away and sustain myself on a farm for at least one year.

26) Hire a private investigator to follow someone I don't know.

27) Make a body puppet.

28) Fire a cannon.

29) Blackmail someone.

30) Grow a mustache.

Part 4 Coming Soon!!!

Marry Me?

Regina Spektor: Love will be the death of me.

Me: I know, right?

Part 2 of 10 In New Ten Part Series: 100 Things I Want To Do Before I Die

11) Punch someone in the face.

12) Stay at a 24 hour diner for 24 hours.

13) Road trip to every national landmark I can think of.

14) Become a YouTube superstar.

15) Learn how to play the guitar.

16) Spend a weekend as a street performer.

17) Get less fat.

18) Drive a van down the highway at obscene speeds and dump fully dressed mannequins on the side of the road.

19) Fart in a crowded elevator.

20) Build and live in a tree house for a summer.

Part 3 Coming Soon!!!

Part 1 of 10 In New Ten Part Series: 100 Things I Want To Do Before I Die

Dedicated to Andrew Johnson and his travel train to Albania for the next two whole years of our lives.

1) Own a potbellied pig and name it Junior.

2) Drop a bundle of $100 bills into a homeless person's cup.

3) Learn how to use a flamethrower.

4) Ride into a Ghost Town on a horse.

5) Burn down said Ghost Town with a flamethrower.

6) Live to be over 40.

7) Spend a night in each of these hotels.

8) Give the "birds and the bees" talk to a kid I don't know.

9) Pick up a hitch hiker and convince him that I'm a serial killer.

10) Fake my own death.

Part 2 Coming Soon!!!

So. You've Become That Guy, Eh?

It is late and raining lightly. He steps outside after grabbing his matches and a cigarette.

He heads onto the lawn and looks toward the water. It's quiet aside from the ocean washing up against the beach. He walks down onto the beach and sees his friend sitting up on the wharf holding a guitar. He treads barefoot along the rocks, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

"So, you've become that guy," he says pointing to the guitar.

His friend laughs and strikes a chord. "Yeah, I guess."

He grabs a match and lights a cigarette.

"Why are you up?" his friend asks.

"I don't really sleep anymore," he says.

"Yeah." His friend starts playing lightly again. "Me neither."

"Where'd you find that?"

"In the living room. It's really nice."

"I think it's my uncle's. He always plays it when he's here."

"He any good?"

"He's alright." Blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth, he looks up at the clouded sky.

"Can I bum a cigarette?"

"I left my pack in my room." Pause. "I can run and grab 'em."

"No, it's cool."

The moon pushes through the clouds in a blue, hazy half circle and the rain slowly ceases. The two sit in silence for a long while, he with his cigarette smoldering between two fingers and his friend with his uncle's guitar sitting quietly on one knee.

Suddenly, his friend looks down at his feet with a sharp inhale. "I don't think I love her anymore, man."

"What?" Pause. "What do you mean?"

"There's no double meaning, or anything. I don't think I love her anymore."

"What do you mean 'think'?"

"I don't know."

Silence again. He takes one last puff and smashes his cigarette between two rocks. His friend lets out an aggravated sigh.

"What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say to her?"

"Well, probably nothing until you know for sure."

"But isn't the fact I'm even doubting a bad enough sign?"

"Yes."

"Then I should break it off."

"Yeah. But not until you figure yourself out for sure first, so you don't sound like a complete dumb ass on top of breaking her heart out of the blue."

"It's not out of the blue. I've been thinking about it for a while now."

"With her?" His eyes are angry.

"No. In my head..." His friend grows visibly upset and coughs. "You're not allowed to make a move on her."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Don't."

"No, I mean like... really? You're going to sit there and tell me-- Like I've just been fucking waiting around to pounce?"

"I wasn't saying--"

"I'm going to bed. Put that guitar back where you found it when you come in. It's older than you are." He stands up. "Do you plan on staying here after you talk to her?"

Pause.

"I don't know. No. I guess I was going to see how it goes? I can just go stay with my dad or something."

"That's very sensitive of you."

"Fuck off."

"You're an asshole." He heads back inside. His friend sits alone for the next ten minutes staring down at nothing.

The next morning, over a cup of coffee and a bowl of Apple Jacks, they pretend the other isn't even there.

Strange Woman

Her face frowns.

Not just her mouth, but her entire face.

And it frowns at everything.

"Hullo," I says to her. She just looks at me and frowns. I am still part of everything, even though I says "Hullo."

I don't says anything else to her, but instead I look at my feet.

They are dirty.

Moments later I try again.

"How are you?" I says. She just frowns still.

Obviously she is not good, that is how she is. The frown tells me this. But I figure to myself "If I asks you how you is, you can says you are not good with your words, and not just your frowny face, Strange Woman."

Her stockings are black as the night in the countryside. The kind of night that is not lit up by tiny electric fires like in the city. But the kind of night that is black as the frown on her face because there are no fires to brighten it up.

She has an open seat next to her, but I do not sit down. She does not want a body in her general area of being. She would just like to frown.

She is little. She is a little old woman who frowns. Not the kind of little old woman who gives out good chocolates and smiles. To me, that is the best kind of old woman for I like any kinds of chocolates. Good and bad. I am also a fan of smiles, but smiles only make my heart happy and not my belly.

She has a large suitcase, for she has somewhere to be. Or one would assume so, at least. She could be dragging around all of her things she's ever owned in that large suitcase while she is just looking for somewhere to stay, but she is dressed too nicely and too cozy for me to assume she does have a place where she belongs.

Finally she says "I am fine." But this is a lie. Her body has already told me, in particular her frown, that she is not good. Nor is she fine.

She is neither of these things.

"That's good," I says. For it would be good. If it were not a lie.

Twenty two seconds go by before she says anything else.

"How are you?" she says.

Well I am delighted you ask, Strange Woman. "I am okay," I says.

"Grand," she says.

We are still and says no more.

She is confused as to why I says anything to her at all. I am also confused. We stay confused until the train stops at where I wants it to stop and I gets off.

Then the train goes away taking Strange Woman and her frown with it.

You Know What Word Will Always Make Me Laugh?

Poop.

Lies

"I don't miss you, if that's worth anything." He looks up from his drink to catch a reaction.

She's staring into her empty mug, expressionless.

"I just miss not being lonely."

The waitress walks up with a pot off decaf and offers a refill.

"No, thank you," she says, looking up. The light is dim, but her eyes flash a sadness. The waitress nods and looks away.

"I guess I just miss having someone--"

"I don't miss you either," she interrupts.

"Okay," he says quickly.

Silence.

"Do you smoke yet?" he asks reaching for cigarettes.

"No," she says. "Not yet."

He lights up and looks around. "Nice night."

"It's raining."

"I like the rain."

"I don't."

Silence.

"Well." He coughs. "It's been great seeing you."

"Definitely. Let's do this again sometime."

He blows a cloud of smoke to his side and frowns. "Are you mad at me?"

"No." She looks around and sighs. "This is just... weird."

"You," he mutters. "Called me."

"I know. Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I don't know. I guess I just figured you'd be over me by now."

"Why, that's awfully presumptuous."

"It. It. I meant it. Us. I figured you'd be over it by now."

"I said I don't miss you anymore."

"You were lying."

"So were you."

"No I wasn't."

"Then why call me?"

"I thought--"

"Fuck you."

Silence.

The waitress walks up with the check. "Here's your check. Pay whenever you're ready." She sets it on the table and walks off.

"You were lying," he says, picking up the bill.

"I have to go." She stands up and grabs her coat off the back of her chair. "Thank you for dinner."

"My pleasure."

She watches him as he reaches for his wallet. He looks up at her and smiles an ugly, painful smile.

She looks back.

They look at each other for a long moment and she leaves.

He waits until she is gone and stands up. He leaves a small tip and presses his cigarette into the ashtray before walking out into the rain.