Familiar Patterns on the Table Cloth

Familiar Patterns on the Table Cloth

Ashley’s mind seemed filled with cryptic sand-figures waiting for the waves of pleasure to wash her away. She thought of sadness sometimes when she drank her anesthetizing wine and smoked mind-numbing marijuana, sitting on her porch, with music playing softly against her sensitive ears. What was it like then? To cry? To feel sorrow for something dark and strange—but for now, I’m happy, and I am about to fly away with him carrying me. We will go to the beach, together, now that I’m in shape again, looking good. Maybe I will flirt with some other guys, just to make him jealous, crawling up my sleeve to hide away from the envy he felt inside his cataract-soul. She took a hit of weed, holding the smoke deep within her lungs. She felt it; the feeling of leaving for a while. I will never feel sorrow again.
Chemicals and mind-numbing depressants held her up to the oceanic waves; they were coming. She could feel her patterns in her life, waiting to be forgotten for all time—to be soaked in the thoughts of her new pageantry of this life, so rich with maturity.
The phone would ring soon. It always did. She was never lonely anymore. Someone was always calling her, to go out, to do something. She wanted to do something for good. To get so high that she would never touch ground again. Her friends were of the gregarious type. Socialites and party-goers, always ready for the next good time. Riding in cars, smoking cigarettes, singing along to Dave Mathews Band, going to concerts, and movies. Eating more and more, while their stomach shrank from diet pills. Speeding along in cars. Never dreaming. Awake. Never sullen sleepers, they would parade around the town, shouting to boys and asking for directions to the next big get together.
After the parties, they would go to get coffee; eating like bovine fools; hearing the Musak and smiling with each lounge act singing their way into oblivion. They would always be remembered. They were ageless, young and proud, never giving in to any thoughts of reaching into time. Never giving in to the threat of aging.
She sat on her porch and waited some more. Putting down the bowl and lighting up a Camel Light. Maybe she would give him a call; maybe she would wait until tomorrow, make him shiver in complexity—he had a tendency to do that. Always wanting to know where she was, what she was doing, wrapped up in his complex web of attaching his spider-wire anchors to her. Nah, hell with him, she thought, tonight I’ll light up the town—feeling the grip of another boy’s tender hands around her waist; that made her feel even better now. I wonder what that ripped thing that works at that restaurant is doing tonight, he was my waiter a few days ago—I wonder what he feels like inside me. I wonder what it would feel like to fall asleep with him inside me? That would be so sexy.
Oh, hell, I’ll give my boy a call. He is at least good for something. She picked up her new cell phone and called Allen, the guy that she met a few weeks ago, decided to use him as her boyfriend.
“Hello?”
“Hey, honey,” she said in with a smile displaying the unctuous affectation of her cracking veneer.
There was the sound of a girl laughing, “Hey, how’s it going?”
“And who is that?” she said, angrily for the reason of being defeated.
“That’s Sarah, she’s a good friend of mine.”
“How long ago did you meet her?”
She could tell that he was smiling, having the one-up on her now, pinning her down to the mat of sexual ponderings. “Oh, about four days ago,” and she could feel him laughing. That made it the worst. Just the feeling of him giggling about his new found girlfriend.
“Um….is she just a friend? Or is she more than that,” she said, in a forced-light hearted tone.
She could hear in the distance, “Sarah” laughing and asking him to come back to her and have another beer in the kitchen, or something like that. She was imagining more all of the scenarios going on over at Allen’s place. They both being naked. They both clothed and ready to tear one another’s pants off. They both holding shot glasses and toasting to the death of Ashley as his girlfriend.
“She’s, well, you know….a new friend, that’s all. There is nothing going on between us.”
For a second she believed his sincerity. Not many guys ever put her down, she did have really nice tits and a great ass and a pretty face to go along with her beautiful assets. And she thought she had a good personality too. She could be wrong, but that didn’t happen too often. She couldn’t remember the last time someone cheated on her. It was always her being the clever fidelity-smasher.
“Right, well, I guess I’ll go and leave you two alone,” she said, hoping for that quick response of giving in to her again, of saying ‘ok, why don’t we meet up.’ But she didn’t get it.
“Cool, talk to you what, tomorrow?”
Exact type of thing she didn’t want to hear. “Damn you, Allen. I thought you really did like me? We had a great time the other night, didn’t we? You said that you loved the way that I kissed you and the way that I felt in your arms.” She was seeking sympathy, not empathy. She wanted him to fall down at her metaphysical knees and say something like ‘yeah, you are hotter than this girl.’ But maybe she wasn’t. That frightened her. She felt for sure that she was the best that he could do. She poured herself another glass of wine, thinking that the conversation would last a little longer, maybe drawn out for another half an hour, maybe hearing some begging on both sides of the field. “I’m sorry, baby, if I hurt you feelings the other night,” she said, “Is that what is going on, it is all about that little comment I made to Sue about you being “dim witted” or whatever, you know that I was kidding right?”
“Yeah, I know, and I forgive you.”
She knew that this forgiveness was a sign of him saying “goodbye” for good. “No you don’t. You are mad at me.” She was hoping now for some sentiment, any sort of feelings exhibited by him.
“I’m not mad at all, bye.”
“Hey, why don’t you just…” but he ended the call before she could say, “go to hell.”
So, she put down the phone, and felt weird. Not bad, just weird; she wasn’t defeated, not by a long shot, in fact, she thought, I’ve still got him tied around my finger—I bet he can still feel my tongue doing that thing that only I know how to do well. She took a sip of her wine and lit up another cigarette, just then reminded that she should really get some more teeth whitener, maybe even the real expensive kind that got her teeth sparkling in a few hours. That was always convenient. But her heart started to beat faster; that must be the diet pills. It couldn’t really be that feeling that I got when I was fourteen, could it, the feeling of loss? I always have more joy to extract from this world once a supply went bad, tainted, empty—and I still have all this weed, right? I should be getting a call here anytime soon, maybe from Joy, or Liz. Maybe that guy that I gave my number to last week will give me a call. We were both drunk, but didn’t he say that I was really cute or something. They all say that, whatever.
The phone rang.
“Hey Joy,” she said, looking at her caller ID.
“Hey, how’s it going sweetie?”
“Not bad, think that Allen just dumped me, though.”
“You?” No way.”
“Yeah, I really think that he thinks he can do better than me.”
She could her Joy taking another sip of beer. “It’s Friday night, I’m sure that there will be plenty of guys walking around holding up a sign saying, “I want you, Ashley, I need you to suck my dick.”
“Come on, I’m serious.”
“Oh, shit, girl—you know that I’m just trying to make you feel better. Anyway, you are always the one that makes other people feel good. You really do, you make me feel really happy when I’m down. You have that quality.”
Ashley felt a sudden boost, like an endorphin rush. She always got that jolt of energy from a compliment. She loved to be complimented more than anything else, well, aside from good sex with a ripped dude.
“Thanks,” she said, “Now why don’t you get over here and we’ll smoke some pot?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I was just calling you to ask you if you had that twenty bucks that I lent you the other day.”
“Yeah, come over here and get it; you can stay and chat with me,” she was starting to feel rejected again—no she wasn’t, this was just a little scratch in the record.
“Can’t you meet me somewhere? Tonight? How about…”
“How about at Players? We can all meet up there, have a few drinks?”
“Nah, I don’t think that I want to go out.”
“Well, then I’ll come over there.”
“No, you can’t.”
“What the hell are you talking about, ‘I can’t.’ We’re like best friends and everything, right,” she said, taking a good drag off of her favorite brand of cigarette followed by gulp of wine.
“There is someone coming over. You know who I’m talking about. It starts with a V.”
“Vicky Shuster? Fuck her. I hate her, and why the hell are you hanging out with her in the first place? I thought we were like the bestest of friends and everything.”
“You know that I like you both, I just want to see her for the night, she is having guy problems.”
“So AM I! Don’t you remember?”
“Yeah, but you can always do fine by yourself. You know that. You are prettier than she is, and she never has a boyfriend. You always have someone up your sleeve to call.”
Ashley was really feeling kind of down, so she lit up the bowl and tried to alleviate the feeling. This was new to her. Feeling low. It felt kind of good anyway. Yeah, that’s what it feels like, she thought, it feels good. Everything feels good.
“Well, ok, I guess I’ll just hang out here by myself.”
“You will not, you know that. Trish wants to do something anyway.”
“I thought that she was hooking up with that guy tonight?”
“Seth?”
“Yeah.”
“Probably not, he is giving her the cold shoulder.”
Ashley thought….hmmmm…I bet I could fuck him tonight, if I really wanted to. Why not? Sharing, isn’t that what friends are for?”
Ashley smiled and said, “What is his number?”
“You got to be kidding me,” Joy said.
“No, I’m not, give it to me.”
“How in the hell do you think that I know it?”
“Because he gave it to you the other night at the party.”
“How do you remember these things?”
“Because I’m smarter than you are and have a better memory.”
“Right,” Joy said irritated, “Ok, here it is, ready?”
“Yeah,”
“883-1498”
“Thanks, got to go.”
“I’m going to tell Trish all about this, you know.”
“No you won’t.”
Joy took another drink of beer, “why’s that?”
“Because you love me, dear.”
“Sure, sure, sure I do. I’m actually kind of sick of you.”
“Come on.”
“I’m serious, you are kind of selfish. Egocentric.”
“Oooooh, big word coming from ‘miss I can’t pass history 1 better give Ashley a call.”
“Got to go. Bye.” And the connection was cut.
“Fuck you,” Ashley said to the fuzzy sound of rejection emitted by her cell.
I don’t need her anyway, she thought, I think I WILL give Seth a call. Actually, I think that I’ll go take a shower first, get all ready for him. I bet he’ll come over in a second if I ask him too.
She stood up, put out her cigarette, and walked inside her apartment. She stood there for a second, just to catch her balance. She was feeling pretty good right now. High and drunk. At least that was certain. Everything else wasn’t so clear anymore. At least not tonight.
She walked to the shower, took her clothes off, unstrapped her bra, took off her panties, and turned on the water. She waited until it felt just right. Then she smiled as she looked in the mirror and saw the beauty that she had become. And as she walked into the shower, she felt the cryptic patterns of her life, her addled sand-sculpture wash away into the pleasure saturated utopia of her early twenties.