postcard mouths | j. t. kiszka

8. things that scare me

memories of our crossing paths paraded in my mind, suddenly very quiet and tranquil.

i thought of the night we met, how he'd saved my ass from some sleazy oil-clad hick, and drove me home out of the goodness of his heart. come to think of it, climbing into a stranger's car in the middle of the night was a stupid, stupid move, but i supposed that was the beauty of whiskey. and luck. definitely luck.

we'd flirted back and forth across the dinner table the next night. talking about pirates and velvet and hard liquor as we bit our lips and let our eyes say what our mouths wouldn't. i could remember that much. and how close we'd gotten under the dim light of the dive we'd found ourselves in later on that night, eager to hear each other's voice over the music. he smelled woodsy, and fresh, but there was this musk to him that was almost magnetic. i'd imagined burying my nose in the crook of his neck, tangling my fingers in his long hair, and breathing him in until my lungs were about to explode.

vague images—memories—flashed in my head. my hands on his chest. on his jaw. the bottom of his face inches from my own, distorted slightly by perspective and booze and copious amounts of weed. feeble light. forest green sheets. smoke so thick you almost couldn't breathe.

i blinked. then i frowned to myself. whether or not i could trust the authenticity of my mental souvenirs was beyond me. it was all so foggy, clouded by intoxication.

after feeling around for my phone on my bed, i pulled up my conversation with jake. i hadn't responded to his text the night before. partially because i wanted to make him wait for me, just to see if he would, but mostly because i didn't know what to say. he wanted to see me again... i wanted to see him again... the feeling was mutual—very much so—and i should have been glad about it, but instead there was this tension simmering at the bottom of my gut, and i didn't know how to turn it off.

jake: so when can i see you again?

i stared at the message for a long time, then scrolled up to stare at the photo of him in his en suite mirror for even longer.

"hellooooo! earth to valerie!"

i startled, clutching my chest with a gasp after fumbling with my phone in the air. "jesus christ, dude!" i huffed. "you scared the shit out of me!"

tegan and i looked at each other for a moment. the dark, outgrown roots of her otherwise burgundy hair were wet with what i could only assume to be rain, the shoulders of her fitted grey t-shirt darkened with moisture, too. she leaned against my doorframe with a lazy hand, half-clad in long, striped fingerless gloves, on her hip.

we'd lived together for nearly two years. desperate to escape the confines of my childhood home, i'd clicked on the first ad i'd stumbled across: a lease takeover on a one storey home near campus, one roommate, $550 a month, available immediately. initially, we'd clashed a lot, too caught up in our own perceptions and opinions to see each other for who we really were. once i got to know her, i couldn't believe i'd gone my whole life not knowing her and having no choice but to be okay with it. i often wondered how much different my life would have been had i met her earlier on. part of me believes i would have been happier. i'd always had layla around, and of course she'd made me happy, but she didn't get me the way tegan did. tegan was honest. sometimes painfully so. but i admired that about her. she was kind and generous and caring, and she didn't hesitate to tell you what she thought because she always knew it was for your own good. i'd needed someone like her in my life. someone to keep things real. i'd had enough sugarcoating for one lifetime.

tegan grinned just then. she drew her eyebrows together, made devil horns on her hands and bobbed her head to alice in chains' "dirt." by the sarcastic expression on her face as she lip-synced, it was obvious that she was being a dick about the volume, but i knew she was just fooling around. i rolled my eyes at her and tried not to give her the satisfaction of my amusement. but i couldn't help from chuckling. i slipped past her to turn down the music on the stereo.