So the Season's Changed Your Face
Act III, Scene I
December 31, 2001
“Come on, Mike,” I said impatiently, sitting on his bed and twiddling my thumbs. “Just pick a damn shirt.”
“I want to look nice,” he replied, pulling a shirt off of a hanger. He turned to face me, holding up a light blue button down shirt. “What about this?”
“That’s lovely, Mike,” I responded sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “Would you just put it on so we can go? We’re already an hour late and I have a curfew.”
“Okay, okay,” Mike obliged, waving for me to get out of his room. “Go start the car.”
I stared in disbelief at him. “Don’t make me wait, Carden.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he shooed me away again. “Get out.”
I’ve been going to this guy’s swimming tournaments every year since ninth grade and yet he still makes me get out of his room when he changes. I’ve seen him in a Speedo – not something I ever want to see again, by the way – and yet he still gets self-conscious when he takes off his shirt.
I wish I understood him.
My mom decided to stay home and drink tonight and seeing as I didn’t want to be around that, I went to Mike’s. Mike’s parents, it transpires, were out at a New Year’s Eve party, however, and Lucas was spending the night at a friend’s, leaving Mike and I with unlimited possibilities. We chose to go a party that a girl in our grade was holding, even though Mike strongly suggested we put a frozen pizza in the oven and play Mario Kart instead.
And this is precisely why we are running an hour late – after I had beat Mike down (which was not an easy feat, might I add – he’s about as stubborn as I am), he decided he needed to shower before he attended any parties. Needless to say, I did end up playing Mario Kart for a bit while he got ready.
Little Jack barked at me as I made my way to the front door. I controlled my instinct to kick him to high hell and headed to my car to start it up, as Mike had directed.
I was willing the heater to kick in when Mike got into the car. “You sure you want to drive in this?”
Not surprisingly, it was snowing. When we moved here from Arizona, I was so excited for my first winter in Chicago. I thought it would be just like being in New York again. Now that I drive, however, I’m not a fan of the snow and the sleet and the black ice.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I said. “Sure, this will be the first time driving in snow, but I think I can manage.”
Not surprisingly, he didn’t look too reassured. “Just…don’t kill me, okay?”
“Mike, would I really do that?” I asked, smiling.
Mike contemplated me and sighed. “I’m going to die. I am going to die.”
I chuckled and pulled out of his driveway, secretly thinking that he might be right.
Don’t ask me how, but I am currently in a basement and playing Spin the Bottle with a bunch people I hardly recognize (granted, it’s a bit dark and I’m little bit drunk) and I am not having any fun, because let’s face it – I have to live with my mom who has Borderline Personality Disorder and spends half of her time slopping wine down her shirt and Mike’s spinning the empty beer bottle but it hasn’t landed on me a single damn time.
There is one person in this room I would like to kiss and that person also happens to be the only person in this room I have not kissed.
And I have kissed Becky twice and she has a fucking snaggletooth!
But this is just the alcohol talking, right?
Because I’m not actually attracted to Mike. I mean, he’s my best friend. I’ve known him since ninth grade. I knew him when he was on the chess team, for God’s sake. I mean, I like Mike, but I don’t want to be with Mike.
So why am I so jealous of the girl he is currently kissing?
It’s just a game. A harmless, little game. We’re all drunk so it doesn’t really count, right? I mean, this isn’t going to mean anything in the morning. I’ll just go back to being Mike’s best friend and I won’t remember having these scary feelings about him.
Right?
It was my turn to spin the bottle, and despite myself, I hoped with all of my might that the bottle would land on Mike. That way, I could get it over with and leave the circle without it being impolite, then I could find another drink to down and I could numb the pain I was currently feeling.
Also because then I would get to kiss Mike in a totally commitment-free sort of way – a way in which he couldn’t hold it against because, well, it’s Spin the god damn Bottle.
As fate would have it, however, the bottle landed on the person sitting next to Mike. I believe his name is Sean and I believe I have History with him. I have kissed him once tonight and I must admit that it was not unenjoyable and perhaps it’s just the alcohol clouding my mind, but I was up for another kiss. And then, I would leave the circle in search for another drink.
I leaned over Mike to connect my lips to Sean’s (if that is his name – I’m not too sure, he doesn’t really look like a Sean), and after the smooch was over, I lost my balance and fell into Mike’s lap. It wasn’t even a cute sort of fall – it was actually quite graceless and I bumped my teeth into his knee.
I laughed raucously, gingerly patting my teeth to make sure I hadn’t chipped one. I sat up and smiled at Mike. “S-s-sorry, Mike.”
“Okay, Vivi,” Mike said conclusively, standing up. “I think we should get you home.”
He helped me stand up. It was only then when I realized how drunk I actually was. I thought I was only a bit little bit drunk, but seeing as there were two Mikes before me…
I was forced to clutch onto Mike to keep my balance. “Mike, you can’t drive me home,” I slurred, a great, big smile plastered on my face. “You’re drunk!”
“Not nearly as drunk as you are,” he murmured, trying to hold me up.
“What?” I asked, not able to hear him properly over the noise. “Did you say something?”
“I said, ‘Let’s get you upstairs’,” he said loudly, trying to lead me toward the basement stairs.
“What are we going to do upstairs?” I questioned impertinently. “You can’t take me home, Mike, we’ll die and I don’t think we have enough money for a cab.”
“I don’t know, Vivi,” Mike sighed. “Maybe we’ll walk home.”
“Mike, we can’t walk!” I stated, thinking this was all very amusing. “It’s s-s-snowing!”
“Fuck, I don’t know how we’re going to get home,” he said very loudly, his nostrils flared. “But let’s go upstairs to figure something out.”
“Are you mad?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. “Is this because I kissed Sean twice?”
Mike closed his eyes and sighed. “No, this is not because you kissed Sean.”
“Is it because I liked it?”
Mike pursed his lips and nodded very slightly. “No, it’s not that. Let’s just – I think we should go, Vivi.”
“Mike, don’t lie to me,” I giggled. “I can always tell when you’re lying. You say things differently and you kinda square your jaw.”
“Vivi, I’m not lying, okay?” he said, suddenly tense and his jaw very much squared. “I just really think we should get you home so you don’t miss your curfew.”
“Come on, Mike,” I said impatiently, sitting on his bed and twiddling my thumbs. “Just pick a damn shirt.”
“I want to look nice,” he replied, pulling a shirt off of a hanger. He turned to face me, holding up a light blue button down shirt. “What about this?”
“That’s lovely, Mike,” I responded sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “Would you just put it on so we can go? We’re already an hour late and I have a curfew.”
“Okay, okay,” Mike obliged, waving for me to get out of his room. “Go start the car.”
I stared in disbelief at him. “Don’t make me wait, Carden.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he shooed me away again. “Get out.”
I’ve been going to this guy’s swimming tournaments every year since ninth grade and yet he still makes me get out of his room when he changes. I’ve seen him in a Speedo – not something I ever want to see again, by the way – and yet he still gets self-conscious when he takes off his shirt.
I wish I understood him.
My mom decided to stay home and drink tonight and seeing as I didn’t want to be around that, I went to Mike’s. Mike’s parents, it transpires, were out at a New Year’s Eve party, however, and Lucas was spending the night at a friend’s, leaving Mike and I with unlimited possibilities. We chose to go a party that a girl in our grade was holding, even though Mike strongly suggested we put a frozen pizza in the oven and play Mario Kart instead.
And this is precisely why we are running an hour late – after I had beat Mike down (which was not an easy feat, might I add – he’s about as stubborn as I am), he decided he needed to shower before he attended any parties. Needless to say, I did end up playing Mario Kart for a bit while he got ready.
Little Jack barked at me as I made my way to the front door. I controlled my instinct to kick him to high hell and headed to my car to start it up, as Mike had directed.
I was willing the heater to kick in when Mike got into the car. “You sure you want to drive in this?”
Not surprisingly, it was snowing. When we moved here from Arizona, I was so excited for my first winter in Chicago. I thought it would be just like being in New York again. Now that I drive, however, I’m not a fan of the snow and the sleet and the black ice.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I said. “Sure, this will be the first time driving in snow, but I think I can manage.”
Not surprisingly, he didn’t look too reassured. “Just…don’t kill me, okay?”
“Mike, would I really do that?” I asked, smiling.
Mike contemplated me and sighed. “I’m going to die. I am going to die.”
I chuckled and pulled out of his driveway, secretly thinking that he might be right.
--------------------
Don’t ask me how, but I am currently in a basement and playing Spin the Bottle with a bunch people I hardly recognize (granted, it’s a bit dark and I’m little bit drunk) and I am not having any fun, because let’s face it – I have to live with my mom who has Borderline Personality Disorder and spends half of her time slopping wine down her shirt and Mike’s spinning the empty beer bottle but it hasn’t landed on me a single damn time.
There is one person in this room I would like to kiss and that person also happens to be the only person in this room I have not kissed.
And I have kissed Becky twice and she has a fucking snaggletooth!
But this is just the alcohol talking, right?
Because I’m not actually attracted to Mike. I mean, he’s my best friend. I’ve known him since ninth grade. I knew him when he was on the chess team, for God’s sake. I mean, I like Mike, but I don’t want to be with Mike.
So why am I so jealous of the girl he is currently kissing?
It’s just a game. A harmless, little game. We’re all drunk so it doesn’t really count, right? I mean, this isn’t going to mean anything in the morning. I’ll just go back to being Mike’s best friend and I won’t remember having these scary feelings about him.
Right?
It was my turn to spin the bottle, and despite myself, I hoped with all of my might that the bottle would land on Mike. That way, I could get it over with and leave the circle without it being impolite, then I could find another drink to down and I could numb the pain I was currently feeling.
Also because then I would get to kiss Mike in a totally commitment-free sort of way – a way in which he couldn’t hold it against because, well, it’s Spin the god damn Bottle.
As fate would have it, however, the bottle landed on the person sitting next to Mike. I believe his name is Sean and I believe I have History with him. I have kissed him once tonight and I must admit that it was not unenjoyable and perhaps it’s just the alcohol clouding my mind, but I was up for another kiss. And then, I would leave the circle in search for another drink.
I leaned over Mike to connect my lips to Sean’s (if that is his name – I’m not too sure, he doesn’t really look like a Sean), and after the smooch was over, I lost my balance and fell into Mike’s lap. It wasn’t even a cute sort of fall – it was actually quite graceless and I bumped my teeth into his knee.
I laughed raucously, gingerly patting my teeth to make sure I hadn’t chipped one. I sat up and smiled at Mike. “S-s-sorry, Mike.”
“Okay, Vivi,” Mike said conclusively, standing up. “I think we should get you home.”
He helped me stand up. It was only then when I realized how drunk I actually was. I thought I was only a bit little bit drunk, but seeing as there were two Mikes before me…
I was forced to clutch onto Mike to keep my balance. “Mike, you can’t drive me home,” I slurred, a great, big smile plastered on my face. “You’re drunk!”
“Not nearly as drunk as you are,” he murmured, trying to hold me up.
“What?” I asked, not able to hear him properly over the noise. “Did you say something?”
“I said, ‘Let’s get you upstairs’,” he said loudly, trying to lead me toward the basement stairs.
“What are we going to do upstairs?” I questioned impertinently. “You can’t take me home, Mike, we’ll die and I don’t think we have enough money for a cab.”
“I don’t know, Vivi,” Mike sighed. “Maybe we’ll walk home.”
“Mike, we can’t walk!” I stated, thinking this was all very amusing. “It’s s-s-snowing!”
“Fuck, I don’t know how we’re going to get home,” he said very loudly, his nostrils flared. “But let’s go upstairs to figure something out.”
“Are you mad?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. “Is this because I kissed Sean twice?”
Mike closed his eyes and sighed. “No, this is not because you kissed Sean.”
“Is it because I liked it?”
Mike pursed his lips and nodded very slightly. “No, it’s not that. Let’s just – I think we should go, Vivi.”
“Mike, don’t lie to me,” I giggled. “I can always tell when you’re lying. You say things differently and you kinda square your jaw.”
“Vivi, I’m not lying, okay?” he said, suddenly tense and his jaw very much squared. “I just really think we should get you home so you don’t miss your curfew.”