On the Other Side of Nowhere

Dick was very apologetic after Dylan called the Sheriff to come pick him up. “I’m sorry,” he slurred, leaning in close, the stench of bourbon wafting from his mouth. I put my hands on his chest to keep him at bay in case he tried to make up for everything with a kiss.

“It’s okay,” I assured him, leaning away slightly. We were sitting on the curb outside the pub, our feet in the gutter with the broken bottles and cigarette butts. Dylan was on Dick’s other side, patiently holding a bucket in case my date couldn’t keep his stomach down.

“You’re a doll, Ava.” Dick smiled slackly before pointing a finger at Dylan. “An’ you – I dunno you, but you’re a great guy!”

“Uh, thanks,” Dylan murmured uncomfortably, scratching behind his ear. His eyes met mine over Dick’s shoulder for a second before-

“Aw, hell, Richardson!” The Sheriff had finally arrived in full uniform. He stared disapprovingly at Dick (sans sunglasses for once) as Dylan attempted to help him to his feet. “Let’s get you home, you drunk idiot.”

Dick teetered and swayed as Dylan and the Sheriff tried to manoeuvre him to the patrol car. They’d finally managed to get him over there, and the passenger door open, when he turned and flung his arms around me. “Bye, Ava.” I didn’t get a chance to say anything in response before his mouth had swallowed mine and I was treated to a sloppy tongue bath. Of the few kisses I’d endured in my lifetime, this one was the worst. The only pro was that it was brief. Dick relinquished me and threw his arms around Dylan. The bartender patted his back awkwardly before something happened which made him freeze.

Dick kissed him, too.

Dylan’s eyes shot wide open, clearly unaccustomed to having a member of the same sex attack him with their mouth. He was too shocked to even push Dick away, and the Sheriff was forced to grab his officer’s collar and toss him into the back of the cruiser. Dylan stood, stock-still, with a stunned expression on his face. He glanced at me and his ears went up in flames. “He just – I was just-”

“Don’t worry,” the Sheriff interjected from the driver’s seat, window wound down, “Dick won’t remember a thing in the morning.”

“He won’t, but I will,” Dylan grumbled as the police car drove away with Dick curled up in the backseat. Now that we were alone, Dylan and I stood shyly beside one another, neither of us sure what to do next. “I might go wash my mouth out,” he said at long last, poking his tongue against his teeth as if to dislodge a stubborn piece of spinach.

“I’m going to head home,” I responded, thinking privately that I might wash my mouth out, too.

“Just gimme a minute to grab my jacket and I’ll walk you.”

I looked uncertainly to the drug store down the street. “It’s barely two hundred feet away.”

“Exactly – it’s quite a walk. I’ll be back soon, wait here.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh as he bounded back inside the pub. Nor did I know whether he was really coming back as I stood on the sidewalk, hugging my arms to preserve the little warmth left in them. Tonight was the first in over a week without rain, but the weather was still cold and the stars were kept hidden behind thick clouds. My calves were growing numb by the time Dylan returned, brown cardigan draped loosely over his t-shirt.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked me, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. I nodded and we turned to leave when a voice called Dylan’s name behind us.

Dylan’s boss was a stocky man whose arms refused to lay flat against his sides. Rumour had it he’d won the pub in a game of Rochambeau back in the eighties. I’d been told he had an iron stomach, but from where I stood it looked doughy. “Return this for me while you’re out, would you?” In his hand he proffered a video case. I only glanced at it briefly, not needing to stare at the bare flesh on the cover for long to ascertain exactly what kind of film Dylan’s boss needed him to return.

Dylan’s eyes flickered to me and back to his boss. “Bob, I was gonna walk-”

“I can’t get anymore late fees, Dyl. Bernie’s gonna revoke my membership if I do.”

Next to me, Dylan hesitated, sighed, and finally took the video from Bob. “You owe me.”

“I know, I know.” Bob rolled his eyes, grinning. “You’re a good kid, Dyl.” He disappeared back inside the pub to man the bar while Dylan was on his break. We were alone again and I was suddenly very aware of my appearance. Did my hair look okay? Why did it have to be so brown? Was my dress on straight? Could he see the bourbon stain on my cardigan? Could he smell it?

“Do you believe me now?”

“Huh?”

“About this?” He held up the video in his hand.

“Oh! Yes, I believe you.” I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, trying to hide the split ends because I hadn’t had a haircut in almost a year. We were nearly halfway to the drug store already and I was stuck in a bind. On one hand, I wanted to get there as soon as possible so that my pulse would no longer race and I wouldn’t feel like such an idiot every time I spoke. On the other hand, I knew as soon as I was there, I’d wish I wasn’t. It was a lose-lose situation. “Does your boss watch a lot of, um, porn?” I cringed at my own words.

“You have no idea,” Dylan answered, cringing also, though for an entirely different reason. “The worst part about it is that the wall between our rooms is paper thin.”

I wasn’t sure why I laughed at that. Maybe it was because I was barely an adult and a childish part of me still found those things funny, or maybe it was because I always got a little giggly and nervous around cute boys. Either way, I couldn’t help myself. It started as a small chuckle and eventually grew until I had to cover my mouth, trying to make it less obvious. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh.”

“It’s okay. I get it, you find my pain funny.”

“No – it’s not – I mean – I pity you-”

“You pity me? Oh, that’s so much better.”

Becoming flustered, I stammered, “That’s not what I – I don’t-” I stopped because Dylan’s mouth had curved into a strange S-shape, as if half of it was smiling while he managed to restrain the other half. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

He shrugged, no longer bothering to restrain the other half of his mouth, allowing it to curve into a full grin. We were so close to the drug store now, only twenty feet away. A heaviness began to settle inside of me.

“So… your name is Ava?”

I bit my lip, clasping my hands behind my back like a shy little schoolgirl. “Yes.”

“It suits you much better.”

“Much better than what?”

He dipped his head and kicked a piece of gravel with his shoe. “Nothing, it’s stupid. I just had a name for you, that’s all.”

“You had a name for me?”

“Don’t sound so appalled,” he muttered, tugging at the hair above his ears. “You had a name for me, too.”

“I’m not appalled,” I defended. “And we have names for all the regulars. There’s you, Pancakes Extra Syrup, Easy Eggs, Coffee Two Sugars, and that’s just a few. What was your name for me?”

He shook his head, indicating that he wasn’t going to tell me. “It wasn’t very imaginative.”

“And French Toast is?”

Dylan's fingertips began drumming a rhythm like rain against the plastic video case in his hand, trying to decide whether to tell me or not. We were standing at my doorstep when he finally conceded. “Green Eyes.”

“What?”

“That was my name for you, because your eyes are green, kinda like broccoli, the nice dark part that looks like treetops and… that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever said.”

“I liked it… until you got to the part about broccoli.”

“Yeah, uh, can we forget I ever said that?”

“Forget what?”

“Exactly.”

The conversation lulled for a moment and it sunk in once and for all that we were both standing underneath the awning of the drug store. “This is where I live,” I said, rocking on my heels.

“I know. I see your light sometimes.”

I smiled, but didn’t tell him none of the light fixtures in my apartment worked. The light he saw came from the lamp of a Hawaiian hula girl which I plugged into the wall beside my mattress. “I should probably go inside.”

“I should probably deliver my boss’ video to The Rewind Store.” We continued to stand there, not meeting each other’s eyes, but not willing to part just yet. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“All day.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, then, same as always. ‘Night, Ava.” He gave a small wave, turned, and stepped out into the streetlight. I called goodnight behind him before racing upstairs to stand in the darkness of my apartment and watch him disappear down the street.

Maybe the date hadn’t been so terrible, after all.