Frankly Told: Happy Few
The music poured from the open windows in an infectious rhythm that caused those in its audience to groove along with the beat. The group had found comfort in seating around and on the hoods of the cars in the parking lot.
Intoxication claimed the weaker ones of the group and left them in a stupor either inside the cars or on the ground holding each other. It had become routine to make a home of the parking lot on Fridays for the group that consisted of agemates that used the time to catch up, outside the busy schedules they had.
An argument continued to simmer between one of the couples that were part of the group, leaving the rest, at least those sober enough to be conscious, in awkward eye contact with each other and making faces as jabs were thrown here and there. One of them had separated himself earlier on and some distance away from the group, he sat looking out at the landscapes and sky.
“Hey,” a voice pulled him back from his world.
“Uh hey,” he croaked up and embarrassingly cleared his throat.
“Mind if I… ?” she gestured to the space next to him on the retaining wall.
He simply nodded and looked off in the distance once more, readjusting himself back into his silence.
“Sip?” she offered a plastic cup.
He raise and shook the keys in his hand in respectful but wordless decline.
“Ah,” she exhaled and took a sip of her mystery drink.
There was a pause and whilst he seemed very comfortable in the silence, it seemed to itch her.
“This is nice,” she erupted.
He simply nodded.
“Nicer than back there,” she compared, looking back at the group of cars, parked in some haphazard line.
Again, he saved his words and slowly nodded.
“Do you not want to talk to me?” she finally asked, after allowing a beat of silence to wash over them.
“What’s there to say really? I agree with everything you’ve said. I didn’t think they needed words,” he curtly shut down her question.
“I mean, you could still just say something, you ding’oing’o,” she pushed him softly.
“What more could I possibly add that would make this any less short-lived?” he asked sarcastically. “Oh, Yes? Mhmm? Definitely.”
“You suck.” she stuck out her tongue.
“You know,” she started another train of thought. “I wish you would talk to me more… Like you used to.”
He sighed silently while her eyes were scanning the landscape, just as he was doing before she came. She looked over at him with this longing in her eyes he had since grown to resist.
“And what would that look like to you?” he asked, half hoping there wouldn’t be an answer.
“It would look like we were… I don’t know. Normal, I guess.” she shrugged.
“But we aren’t normal,” he shot.
“I know,” she hit back quickly before she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I know.”
“Aki tuna-sound like them,” she scoffed.
He looked back at the group finally. Half of them were on the ground and the other half found some energy to play some kind of game that looked so disorganized it was almost funny. He scoffed too.
He looked back to find her eyes already on him. Her head tilted ever so slightly.
“It’s so sad…” she said in a curious tone.
“What is?” he looked away as he asked.
“The happiness in your eyes…” she continued to reach out, hold his face and turn it to herself. “It always seems to disappear when you look at me.”
He let her hold his face until she was satisfied. His heart fluttered slightly, like a bird with broken wings, too weak to ever fly again. In her eyes, he could see all the memories and warmth but he didn’t have the urge to reach out this time.
“I wonder,” she leaned on his shoulder. “When was the last time you were happy?”
Time slowed down, on his heart resat the weight he thought he had grown strong enough to lift. His lips pursed. Why did she have to ask this now? He shouted in his head. It felt like his mind got scambled and words failed him.
“That’s a good question,” he pretended it wasn’t that deep.
“Mhm,” she affirmed.
“Do you see happiness as black and white or as a spectrum?” he babbled on. “Because if you see it as black and white then I think we can count the times when we are happy.”
She lifted her head and looked at him with drunk dissatisfaction.
“If we see it as a spectrum, then it is hard to remember the last time we were happy,” he argued out. “I mean, wouldn’t it mean that for everything we feel there is some happiness? No matter how small, it is always in the ratio.”
She placed her head back on his shoulder.
“If we saw it as a spectrum…” he said after a painfully long pause. “Maybe you’d have been part of it.”
He felt her fall into him with her full weight.
“You keep wanting us to be normal,” he exhaled. “Normal doesn’t come so easy. Normal can’t just be switched off and on.”
His hand itched to hold hers.
“When was the last time I felt happy?” he asked almost wistfully. “Probably the last time we felt normal. When I didn’t have to fake it to make it. When it felt real enough to smile. When happiness was a space we shared when everything felt like it was up in flames and it didn’t make sense.”
He looked at her. Her eyes closed ever so peacefully. Hope had him in a corner but lost the fight as soon as she breathed deeply. Fast asleep.
“Of course.” he smacked his lips.
“The last time I felt truly happy was in that space. The space for the happy few.” He said the words she’d never hear.
“With you.”
