Hypocrite

“How did it go with Gerard last night?”

“Alright, I guess,” I hummed, stirring my bowl of soggy cereal while I held the phone to my ear using my shoulder. Terra’s own grunt of disapproval reached my ears through the speaker, and I could hear her own spoon clanking against the bowl.

“I thought you two hit it off. He seems like a nice guy. You both do artsy-fartsy stuff, right? That’s a match made in heaven. You two can be broody artists together.”

“It takes a bit more than that to win me over, Toots. You know me. If they have more baggage than I do, it probably won’t work.”

“You have baggage, Iris. You just pretend to pretend that you do, just so people buy your art.”

“I’m not a fixer, and I’m certainly not a helper. I could tell just from last night that he’s damaged goods. Sure, he’s good looking, but I don’t know if that outweighs the fact that he practically mugged me around the side of the bar to get to the joint I had in my purse,” I grumbled, reaching over to my ashtray and picking up my cigarette that had burned down to the filter. With a futile puff on it, I made a grimace at the taste.

“Ouch, that does sound iffy, Iris. What are you going to do? Did he ask you out again?”

“I gave him my number,” I paused, flicking the cigarette back in the tray and taking a mouthful of shredded wheat - forcing it down with some difficulty. I ran out of Fruit Loops.

“That’s an open invitation; you can’t back out now, Iris. He might complain to Frank, and Frank might get mad at me. If Gerard wants to take you out, you better say yes. Don’t fuck up my fledgling relationship with Frank, just because you don’t want to potentially deal with a potential guy’s potential baggage.”

“Yes, Mother. I’ve got some work that needs to be finished. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Let me know as soon as Gerard asks you out!” Hastily, I agreed and hung up on her. As nice as Gerard was, I didn’t particularly want anything to do with him. He was nice to do self-destructive habits with, but other than that I didn’t think we would click. I didn’t want a relationship based on drugs, and that seems like the only thing that would hold us together.

Speaking of drugs, I slipped two pills in my mouth and swallowed them dry. With my rough sketches in hand, I began to work on the dark and foreboding piece that some trust-fund college student wanted for their fully-paid dorm room. Probably to make them seem more deep and complicated. I didn’t really care - they were paying me a hefty sum, and if they were willing to pay that much to look less shallow, I couldn’t complain.



This girl was unbelievable. She obviously knew nothing about art or its technique, but here she was talking about brush strokes and the quality of the products I used. My thoughts were cut short when she finally handed over the four-digit sum of money and left my apartment with her two little moving men. My latest masterpiece went with her.

After a quick stop at my savings jar, I jammed a hundred dollar bill in my pocket and went out to treat myself to breakfast. A girl’s gotta eat, right? My destination was the coffee shop two blocks down the road. It had the best muffins in the world, in my opinion.

I got one and a black coffee, and settled into a booth in the corner. All the window seats were full, so I would have to settle for observing the people inside the restaurant. Businessmen and college kids abound, chatting loudly on their phones and to each other, respectively. It was times like these that I wished I actually had someone to talk to, but then I remembered that I got rid of that a long time ago. Hard to be a brooding and moody artist if you’ve got a group of friends surrounding you, isn’t it?

Doesn’t sound very nice, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good. That’s why I sucked up my displeasure when I saw that Gerard Something-or-Other slid easily into the booth across from me, wearing a small smile.

“Didn’t know you came here.”

“I don’t anymore,” I supplied easily, shoving a bite of muffin in my mouth to stop the conversation. He seemed to take the hint, and I found myself hoping that he wasn’t hurt by my snaky comment. I wasn’t trying to be mean, but I really didn’t want anything to do with this guy. Sure, Terra wanted me to hook up with him, but if I was mean and angry all the time, he’d lose interest and hopefully leave me be.

“You got anything to do today?” No such luck. I held back a sigh and set my half-eaten baked good back onto the table, its wrapper crinkling quietly as I did so. This guy just didn’t take a hint, did he?

“I’ve got a lot of work backed up, so I’ll be painting and shit all day,” I really didn’t. I was actually ahead of schedule, and was enjoying my leisure time. Terra wanted to come over tonight so we could watch movies, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. He might invite himself.

Gerard seemed a bit off-put by my answer, but he didn’t seem to let that stop him, “You said we could see each other again, yeah? Were you planning on keeping your word?”

“I guess so. I figured you would have called me if you planned on asking me out again,” I was being honest this time. I wasn’t going to call him begging for a date; that was his job, not mine. Especially when I wasn’t keen on the idea in the first place. Gerard seemed a bit thoughtful, before tapping his index finger on the table a few times.

“You like Batman?”

“Fucking love Batman,” I mumbled around my muffin, trying not to spit crumbs at him. Not that I would care, or anything. No, definitely not. My mother taught me manners, is all.

“You wanna go see the new one tomorrow? Frank doesn’t want to go, and Mikey has exams to study for.”

“I guess,” I trailed off, unsure. I really wanted to go see Batman, but I didn’t particularly want to do it with Gerard. That damnTerra wouldn’t want to go either, and I didn’t want to look like a loser going to the movie theater by myself. Gerard’s small smile returned, and he reached for his jacket.

“Great, I’ll call you later to figure out what time you want to go. I’m free all day, so it’s all up to you. I’ll see you later?” His last sentence was hopeful, and I couldn’t bring myself to be a Debbie-downer.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later.”