Fork and Knife
I Know Not What I Do
The whole cab ride she was sitting on the left side of the cab backseat, leaning against the window bitting her nails just starring out the window. Every now and then I would try and steal a glance at her, praying that she didn’t notice. I was starring long enough to define just about every little detail about her, like the way her hair so easily swept over her right eye, that her regrowth was starting to slowly come though, she was a natural brunette. Or the way her ears used to have stretchers in them, similar to the younger 14 year old I once was. The cab took a turn to the left and she perked up realising that this was her stop, she didn’t look at me once, almost forgetting I was there… but that happens a lot.
We pulled up out front a nice white house, with a white picket fence, and even though it was about 3’oclock in the morning and I was as tired as fuck, it was still nice enough that I was able to appreciate it, how could someone so… slum? Be able to afford a home like this, and I didn’t take her as the kind to still live with her parents.
She searched around in her pockets to find some change, and pulled out a button, a lollipop stick and a scrunched up 5 dollar bill. Again, how is this person living in this house? That was probably a bit too harsh, so I decided that the stingy ‘rock n roll’ star would lend a hand, I pulled out my wallet as she blushed and stared at the ground in shame. I gave the cabbie his twenty ninety five and we made our way up to the house. I followed along behind her as she made her way up to the house and as soon as the cabbie had sped away she changed her angle and walked straight past the front door to the back garden, she kept walking just looking down until she got to the back fence, from there she jumped it and stopped. She turned back to face me
“Well are you coming or not?” She asked shakily in a slight snappy tone and the fear of rejection, I had come this far, what was she worried about all of a sudden now?
“But, isn’t this your house… Why are you climbing the fence?” She looked around uneasily, avoiding my question.
“What are you doing? People living there will hear you and come out, with those paper thin walls. Look at it, its walls are caving, the lawn hasn’t been mowed in years, and god knows what that smell is, just come back, please.” I asked tiredly, why I had to give a description of the obviously destroyed house, that no one in the right mind would be living in, I don’t know. I just seem to analyse and over exaggerate things when I’m tired and grumpy.
She looked back at me with eyes like glass, as the just shoved her hands in her pockets and kicked the dirt as she turned and walked closer to the house.
“Wait, Hannah what are you doing?” I asked as I jogged after her and climbed the fence, tearing my shirt, great.
I ran up behind her as she was ignoring me, and gently tugged on her arm to turn to face me, but as soon as she did those eyes, that were as shinny as glass, stared back at me, a river of guilt washed through me and I had to look down. I don’t know why she was crying, but when girls cried it always made me feel uneasy. My mother had always told me that a woman is like the crystal vase aunt Selma gave her when I was 8. That they were to be treated like a God. Take good care of the vase, otherwise it will get dirty and dusty and forgotten about, be careful with it, breaking a vase, is like breaking a women’s heart, every time you slip up and crack the vase, she will remember it and that crack will be there forever, and no amount of pasty glue could ever change that. Always give it attention, cleaning it regularly, to make sure it stays in top condition, and never forget about it.
“Ryan, let go of me, I’m going home” She replied shakily looking down. “What do you mean…” I asked like some dumbfuck from a cliché movie, hopping she would say what I knew she would say. “Im going home, that old broken down shack, with the paper thin walls, the un mowed grass, and the dog shit is my house you ignorant jerk!” She yelled tugging herself free from my grasp. Oh yeah, she said what I was hopping she wouldn’t. She shoved her hands into her jacket and stormed over to the front door, fumbling with the key, and then trying to budge open the shitty excuse for a door. I came over to help her, trying the least bit a stick, ignorant jerk, like myself could. “Hannah I’m sorry I-” she groand and stopped trying to open the door and turned to look up at me, even with her boots on, she was so petite, and so fragile. “Just don’t call me Hannah, Ok?’ She asked sounding pissed off “Okay, im sorry…”
She sighed and went back to shoving the door. We finally managed to open it, both stumbling into the room. I had actually landed on some dirty laundry and I jumped a little freaked out and backed up closer to the wall. She rolled her eyes, and took off her jacket and turned back to face me. “So… If I don’t call you Hannah, what do I call you?” I asked looking her straight in the eye for once. “You don’t. You did a very nice thing at the hospital and all, but this is where it ends Ryan. Were just two strangers, and now you can walk out of my life forever, I wont be seeing you again.”
I looked at her a little shocked, not really wanting to walk out of her life, and definitely not have her walk out of my life. I started to get a lot more hot, from the embarrassment of her rejection, and took of my hoodie, and threw it over the back of one of the few dinning room seats. I awkwardly put my hands in my pocket and nodded, coming closer to her, feeling bolder “Yeah well, I don’t have any cab money left… and it doesn’t look like you a phone, and im not big on walking at this time of night, soo… I guess Ryan will have to crash here for the night.” She rolled her eyes and pushed me out the door and slammed it in my face. Okay, not so smooth. I walked next door, and knocked on number ‘27’ to a house of the similar ‘conditions’ and was not so greeted by a large, tired and extremely pissed off women with curlers hanging form her head and starring my up and down with a snarl on her face.
“Uh, I’m sorry to bother you at the time of night ma’am, but I was just, ‘in the neighbourhood’ and don’t have a phone, to call a cab company I was just wond-” She growled and stepped aside allowing me through “Just hurry it up, it’s 3 o’clock in the morning young man!” I blushed from being yelled at this huge intimidating women, that could quite easily snap me, and hurried over to the phone to dial the cab company, for the third time this night. I guess I would just have to bail, seeing as I really was out of money. I thanked the cab company, hung up the phone, thanked the growling old lady, and sprinted out the door to wait outside.
The cab pulled around, and I was just about ready to pass out, thank god we weren’t playing any shows for the next three days. I got up off the cold wet, dewy ground and make my way over to the cab and slumped into the back.
We were about 12 minutes away from ‘Hannah’s’ house, when I realised I had left behind my hoodie, and Pete really only lent it to me, and would be super pissed if I was to come back empty handed.
“Ahh, sorry man, but I left my jacket back at the house I was at, and uh, it has my money in it.” I lied. He sighed and replied in his strong Italian accent “okay Buddy but you gonna have to pay me double, capiche?” I rolled my eyes and leaned back into my seat, not like I was going to be paying him in the first place.
“capiche.”
We pulled up out front a nice white house, with a white picket fence, and even though it was about 3’oclock in the morning and I was as tired as fuck, it was still nice enough that I was able to appreciate it, how could someone so… slum? Be able to afford a home like this, and I didn’t take her as the kind to still live with her parents.
She searched around in her pockets to find some change, and pulled out a button, a lollipop stick and a scrunched up 5 dollar bill. Again, how is this person living in this house? That was probably a bit too harsh, so I decided that the stingy ‘rock n roll’ star would lend a hand, I pulled out my wallet as she blushed and stared at the ground in shame. I gave the cabbie his twenty ninety five and we made our way up to the house. I followed along behind her as she made her way up to the house and as soon as the cabbie had sped away she changed her angle and walked straight past the front door to the back garden, she kept walking just looking down until she got to the back fence, from there she jumped it and stopped. She turned back to face me
“Well are you coming or not?” She asked shakily in a slight snappy tone and the fear of rejection, I had come this far, what was she worried about all of a sudden now?
“But, isn’t this your house… Why are you climbing the fence?” She looked around uneasily, avoiding my question.
“What are you doing? People living there will hear you and come out, with those paper thin walls. Look at it, its walls are caving, the lawn hasn’t been mowed in years, and god knows what that smell is, just come back, please.” I asked tiredly, why I had to give a description of the obviously destroyed house, that no one in the right mind would be living in, I don’t know. I just seem to analyse and over exaggerate things when I’m tired and grumpy.
She looked back at me with eyes like glass, as the just shoved her hands in her pockets and kicked the dirt as she turned and walked closer to the house.
“Wait, Hannah what are you doing?” I asked as I jogged after her and climbed the fence, tearing my shirt, great.
I ran up behind her as she was ignoring me, and gently tugged on her arm to turn to face me, but as soon as she did those eyes, that were as shinny as glass, stared back at me, a river of guilt washed through me and I had to look down. I don’t know why she was crying, but when girls cried it always made me feel uneasy. My mother had always told me that a woman is like the crystal vase aunt Selma gave her when I was 8. That they were to be treated like a God. Take good care of the vase, otherwise it will get dirty and dusty and forgotten about, be careful with it, breaking a vase, is like breaking a women’s heart, every time you slip up and crack the vase, she will remember it and that crack will be there forever, and no amount of pasty glue could ever change that. Always give it attention, cleaning it regularly, to make sure it stays in top condition, and never forget about it.
“Ryan, let go of me, I’m going home” She replied shakily looking down. “What do you mean…” I asked like some dumbfuck from a cliché movie, hopping she would say what I knew she would say. “Im going home, that old broken down shack, with the paper thin walls, the un mowed grass, and the dog shit is my house you ignorant jerk!” She yelled tugging herself free from my grasp. Oh yeah, she said what I was hopping she wouldn’t. She shoved her hands into her jacket and stormed over to the front door, fumbling with the key, and then trying to budge open the shitty excuse for a door. I came over to help her, trying the least bit a stick, ignorant jerk, like myself could. “Hannah I’m sorry I-” she groand and stopped trying to open the door and turned to look up at me, even with her boots on, she was so petite, and so fragile. “Just don’t call me Hannah, Ok?’ She asked sounding pissed off “Okay, im sorry…”
She sighed and went back to shoving the door. We finally managed to open it, both stumbling into the room. I had actually landed on some dirty laundry and I jumped a little freaked out and backed up closer to the wall. She rolled her eyes, and took off her jacket and turned back to face me. “So… If I don’t call you Hannah, what do I call you?” I asked looking her straight in the eye for once. “You don’t. You did a very nice thing at the hospital and all, but this is where it ends Ryan. Were just two strangers, and now you can walk out of my life forever, I wont be seeing you again.”
I looked at her a little shocked, not really wanting to walk out of her life, and definitely not have her walk out of my life. I started to get a lot more hot, from the embarrassment of her rejection, and took of my hoodie, and threw it over the back of one of the few dinning room seats. I awkwardly put my hands in my pocket and nodded, coming closer to her, feeling bolder “Yeah well, I don’t have any cab money left… and it doesn’t look like you a phone, and im not big on walking at this time of night, soo… I guess Ryan will have to crash here for the night.” She rolled her eyes and pushed me out the door and slammed it in my face. Okay, not so smooth. I walked next door, and knocked on number ‘27’ to a house of the similar ‘conditions’ and was not so greeted by a large, tired and extremely pissed off women with curlers hanging form her head and starring my up and down with a snarl on her face.
“Uh, I’m sorry to bother you at the time of night ma’am, but I was just, ‘in the neighbourhood’ and don’t have a phone, to call a cab company I was just wond-” She growled and stepped aside allowing me through “Just hurry it up, it’s 3 o’clock in the morning young man!” I blushed from being yelled at this huge intimidating women, that could quite easily snap me, and hurried over to the phone to dial the cab company, for the third time this night. I guess I would just have to bail, seeing as I really was out of money. I thanked the cab company, hung up the phone, thanked the growling old lady, and sprinted out the door to wait outside.
The cab pulled around, and I was just about ready to pass out, thank god we weren’t playing any shows for the next three days. I got up off the cold wet, dewy ground and make my way over to the cab and slumped into the back.
We were about 12 minutes away from ‘Hannah’s’ house, when I realised I had left behind my hoodie, and Pete really only lent it to me, and would be super pissed if I was to come back empty handed.
“Ahh, sorry man, but I left my jacket back at the house I was at, and uh, it has my money in it.” I lied. He sighed and replied in his strong Italian accent “okay Buddy but you gonna have to pay me double, capiche?” I rolled my eyes and leaned back into my seat, not like I was going to be paying him in the first place.
“capiche.”