Strawberries
Her Name Is Rory.
The next day at work, my heart is still breaking inside. I'm distracted and can't seem to get into character.
"Jonas, what's wrong with you today?" the director finally asks after I forget my line again and everyone on the set groans. All eyes are suddenly turned to me.
"Something happened last night and I'm just kind of distracted," I say quietly, not wanting to think about you again. It's all because of you.
"Well, try to snap out of it," he looks at me somewhat sympathetically and claps his hand after a breif silence. "Okay, we need to start over! Don't screw up, Nick." he walks off the set while holding his hand up and yelling at the camera operators. We have a deadline and I can't be dawdling.
***
I force myself to put my angst into my role and I wind up screaming my lines and giving myself a headache. When we finally finish the scene, the director says we can take a break. I stumble off the set with my hands over my eyes, scrambling towards the water cooler. I sigh deeply as I rip one of the paper cone cups out of the tube and fill it with water, gulping it down slowly.
"Nick, you sure you're alright?" one of my co-stars puts his hand on my shoulder. I can't tell him about you, obviously. I just nod a little, not giving any verbal response. He tilts his head sympathetically. "Okay. You sure? You seem really down today," he asks.
"I'm okay," I manage to sputter out.
I don't know if I really am or not.
-------------------------------------
You’re gone again tonight. From snooping through your phone earlier, I found out that the girl’s name is Rory.
I threw your phone down on the counter, ashamed. Not ashamed of myself for snooping, mind you - ashamed of you. And I’m ashamed of myself for not being enough for you. I should just learn to expect nothing but heartbreak from now on, shouldn’t I?
What’s Rory like, Joe? Is she pretty? I bet she’s prettier than me. Is she nice and sweet? I’ve never seen her, but I’m sure she’s much better than I am in every way. Am I right? Of course I am.
-------------------------------------
“I’ll be back lateish, or in the morning. Order some takeout.” You slide a twenty into my hand as you kiss my lips gently. “Don’t give me that look,” you say quietly, pushing a curl out of my face as I look at you sadly. “You know I don’t love her. But I have to date girls so people won’t find out about us.”
Sure, Joe, sure.
“Have a good time,” is all I can manage to say as I take the money from you. You kiss my cheek before you leave the house and I’m alone again.
I take your advice and have Chinese food again. You never make dinner when you are home, and you never leave anything when you’re not home, so my diet consists mainly of pizza and takeout.
I receive the food pay the deliverer. I’m not even that hungry. I just need something to get my mind off the feeling of hurt left by you.
***
Rory seems to be your new favorite person. Almost every time I look at the calendar on your phone, the important event will say ‘Date with Rory’. You’ve never had a girlfriend last this long – two weeks. Most of them last you about three days before you get bored and need to move on. So many girlfriends and boyfriends you’ve had, that the press has given up on keeping track of you. Even one of our former fans could probably get into bed with you.
What’s special about her? You don’t normally date girls for this long.
-------------------------------
A monotonic buzzing noise interrupts the movie. I look down at my jeans pocket, and then over at yours. You have a stupid text message. With a smirk on your face, you slide open the phone. The blue light illuminates your face as your eyes flick over the screen, and then you get to work tapping out a message. I rest my elbow on the couch arm and rest my head in my palm, wondering what the message could have said. There’s no doubt of whom it’s from. I hear you snap your phone shut and you go back to cuddling with me, bunching up next to me. I’m not in the mood anymore, but I don’t push you away.
After a matter of minutes, your phone vibrates again. I watch intently as you pull it out, trying to get a glimpse of the message, but you hold it so I can’t see it as you type your response, giggling under your breath.
“Can you please put the phone away?” I finally ask. You give me an annoyed glare and groan, but you type something out and close the cell. I swallow and sigh. I’m not interested in the movie anymore. You killed it.
"Jonas, what's wrong with you today?" the director finally asks after I forget my line again and everyone on the set groans. All eyes are suddenly turned to me.
"Something happened last night and I'm just kind of distracted," I say quietly, not wanting to think about you again. It's all because of you.
"Well, try to snap out of it," he looks at me somewhat sympathetically and claps his hand after a breif silence. "Okay, we need to start over! Don't screw up, Nick." he walks off the set while holding his hand up and yelling at the camera operators. We have a deadline and I can't be dawdling.
***
I force myself to put my angst into my role and I wind up screaming my lines and giving myself a headache. When we finally finish the scene, the director says we can take a break. I stumble off the set with my hands over my eyes, scrambling towards the water cooler. I sigh deeply as I rip one of the paper cone cups out of the tube and fill it with water, gulping it down slowly.
"Nick, you sure you're alright?" one of my co-stars puts his hand on my shoulder. I can't tell him about you, obviously. I just nod a little, not giving any verbal response. He tilts his head sympathetically. "Okay. You sure? You seem really down today," he asks.
"I'm okay," I manage to sputter out.
I don't know if I really am or not.
-------------------------------------
You’re gone again tonight. From snooping through your phone earlier, I found out that the girl’s name is Rory.
I threw your phone down on the counter, ashamed. Not ashamed of myself for snooping, mind you - ashamed of you. And I’m ashamed of myself for not being enough for you. I should just learn to expect nothing but heartbreak from now on, shouldn’t I?
What’s Rory like, Joe? Is she pretty? I bet she’s prettier than me. Is she nice and sweet? I’ve never seen her, but I’m sure she’s much better than I am in every way. Am I right? Of course I am.
-------------------------------------
“I’ll be back lateish, or in the morning. Order some takeout.” You slide a twenty into my hand as you kiss my lips gently. “Don’t give me that look,” you say quietly, pushing a curl out of my face as I look at you sadly. “You know I don’t love her. But I have to date girls so people won’t find out about us.”
Sure, Joe, sure.
“Have a good time,” is all I can manage to say as I take the money from you. You kiss my cheek before you leave the house and I’m alone again.
I take your advice and have Chinese food again. You never make dinner when you are home, and you never leave anything when you’re not home, so my diet consists mainly of pizza and takeout.
I receive the food pay the deliverer. I’m not even that hungry. I just need something to get my mind off the feeling of hurt left by you.
***
Rory seems to be your new favorite person. Almost every time I look at the calendar on your phone, the important event will say ‘Date with Rory’. You’ve never had a girlfriend last this long – two weeks. Most of them last you about three days before you get bored and need to move on. So many girlfriends and boyfriends you’ve had, that the press has given up on keeping track of you. Even one of our former fans could probably get into bed with you.
What’s special about her? You don’t normally date girls for this long.
-------------------------------
A monotonic buzzing noise interrupts the movie. I look down at my jeans pocket, and then over at yours. You have a stupid text message. With a smirk on your face, you slide open the phone. The blue light illuminates your face as your eyes flick over the screen, and then you get to work tapping out a message. I rest my elbow on the couch arm and rest my head in my palm, wondering what the message could have said. There’s no doubt of whom it’s from. I hear you snap your phone shut and you go back to cuddling with me, bunching up next to me. I’m not in the mood anymore, but I don’t push you away.
After a matter of minutes, your phone vibrates again. I watch intently as you pull it out, trying to get a glimpse of the message, but you hold it so I can’t see it as you type your response, giggling under your breath.
“Can you please put the phone away?” I finally ask. You give me an annoyed glare and groan, but you type something out and close the cell. I swallow and sigh. I’m not interested in the movie anymore. You killed it.