08 Jun A Short Story: Suddenly

*This story is entirely a work of fiction*

I looked over at her and said, “What do you think about this?

Why you being so all of a sudden on me?

Like all of a sudden at the Olive Garden there’s $9.99 unlimited menu items and all of a sudden you eyeing up the filet mignon like you speak French all of a sudden.

You getting all of a sudden on me…

All of a sudden you an experienced shopper with no coupons all of a sudden on me,

And all of a sudden you’ve got dealerships suddenly on your browsing history all of a sudden on me,

And all of a sudden you don’t know how to act good, all of a sudden, on me

And all of a sudden you mistaken my kindness for weakness all of a sudden,

And all of a sudden you know how to pronounce words like escrow, on me, all of a sudden,

You getting all of a sudden on me…

And all of a sudden you’ve got an acquired taste for exquisite on me all of a sudden,

All of a sudden on me, huh?

And all of a sudden your memory forgot how to say thank you, all of a sudden on me

Why you was getting wishy-washy with me all of a sudden,

I wish you would all of a sudden on me.

And all of a sudden you acting brand new,

And all of a sudden you behave this way towards me because you know you’ll get attention from me,

All of a sudden you’re like that with me, huh”

She immediately laughed and said, “Tell me how you really feel. And I like it, there’s some parts that are good and some parts that I think you could write better.”

I responded with a sense of relief, “That’s good to hear. I wanted to see if you could tell the difference between the characters I create as an artist and then who I am as a person. I wanted to see if you trusted me, as an artist and if you understood my integrity.”

She seemed to be in a heightened joyous mood and said, “I’m an artist myself… so naturally I understand the difference. What you wrote was funny because of the way you said it, so I think if you didn’t say it that way… some people might take it the wrong way.”

I smiled and said, “Well that’s the issue with writing poetry, or any words that are meant to be read… because I want to be abstractly poetical, but at the same time I want to eliminate people’s subjective interpretation. I think when that’s achieved… that’s the rawest form of art there is; objective observation. That’s also the fundamental basis of entertainment. ”

She closed her eyes for a few moments while she took a few breaths (which seemed like she was sort of anxious) and then she said to me, “So… ever since I met you I’ve been feeling really different.”

I don’t hear that that often, so I was certainly intrigued and then I responded with, “Yeah? In a good way or a bad way?”

She stood up and walked around (again appearing to be slightly anxious) and then said with a sweet tone of voice, “In a really good way. It’s difficult to explain. And I’m going to say this again… you’re fucked up.”

I quickly responded, “So why was you so interested in giving me a compliment? And I’m definitely interested in hearing compliments from you.”

She abruptly laughed, some people just have a really nice laugh and she is definitely one of them and then she said, “Don’t get used to it. And it still surprises me how you’re able to phrase sentences so stupidly yet they are incredibly potent.”

I stood up so I could look her in the eyes and then I said, “Okay now I see you’re interest today is in delivering me compliments. Must be my lucky day.”

She turned her face away from me as she blushed and then said, “I am kind of angry with you though…”

I responded promptly, “And why is that?”

She responded with a flirtatiously sweet tone of voice, “You haven’t wrote me any poems yet…”

I looked over at all of my notebooks that she had stacked next to her and before I had a second to respond she continued to say, “Those you already wrote, you haven’t wrote me a new one.”

Then I said, “I thought you didn’t like poems that much?”

Then she said, “Yeah, I never thought I did before…”

Then there was an awkward silence between us, the type of awkward silence where we both knew that the conversation could easily turn sensual, but we both wanted to be slightly hesitant. This is the development of physical and psychological attraction as one might say.  

I broke the silence and said, “Well, I guess I’ll start working on writing you a poem right now then…” and I reached for one of my notepads and began to write.

She seemed relatively amused with my decision and then she said, “Despite the hate you get from certain places, there’s actually a healthy amount of people that are starting to respect you, especially screenwriters, for they appreciate your viewpoint and approach to writing dialogues; which is the bread and butter of any good storytelling. That’s just what I heard, I could be wrong though.”

 I took a seat on the couch and she then walked over and sat down next to me. I looked at her and with a sense of urgent sincerity I said, “I’m flattered. I think within a year or so I’ll start getting to where I want…”

She smiled brightly different and then said, “I look forward to that day. I’ll wait for you.”

Then I tried to be nonchalant and said, “Why is you looking so beautiful today… everyday. And I see you trying to butter me up so you can get a good poem from me; it’ll be worth a lot of money, I promise.”

She got serious and said, “I don’t really care about the monetary value that much, I’m more interested in reading how you look at me… from the inside-out. I haven’t had much of that before.”

I again tried to be nonchalant with my response and said, “Yeah I’m definitely trying to get inside you… thanks for the permission.”

She radiantly laughed, the type of laugh where I could tell her anxiousness dissipated and then she said, “Do I look that easy to you?”

I responded quickly, “You know how that’s not what I was saying, what I was saying was that I’m just trying to explore… you, know what I mean?” She rolled her eyes while taking a deep breath and then said, “Better start writing that poem then.”