October 25, 2019

At first, we thought the black liquid was oil, that we'd struck it rich and that we'd be able to retire and live in leisure. We actually started writing down all the ways we'd spend the money. Our first choice was to ride into town for a bath and shave. Maybe even buy some new clothes and eat a good meal before spending as much time as we could at Mabel's. I never mentioned this to Gus, but I wanted to buy something nice for the young blonde one I'd been with last - Bess or Beth - I couldn't remember her name, I just remembered taking a liking to her. As the evil oil continue to spurt and ooze from the earth, our notions of how to spend became a bit more practical. A home. A good young horse. Some land. All the comforts we'd wished we'd had since we were kids. It was around the time that our minds had latched onto the idea of travelling, of seeing big cities and foreign countries, that we noticed the change. First, it was the smell. We'd heard about wells turning, how the smell of rotten eggs meant something wasn't right. They called it "sour gas." But Gus was pretty sure the oil could still work, that we could get the smell out. So we wore pieces of the old blanket wrapped around our faces to keep out the smell. After awhile, it didn't smell like rotten eggs. It smelt worse. It reminded me of the time I found the old shack up in the hills. I was only 12 and the idea of discovering a place I could call my own hunting cabin was all the excitement I needed to barge right on in. I smelled him before I saw him, the old man. It was the first time I saw a dead body. And that smell stuck with me. I didn't mention that to Gus though. He was hell bent on being rich and there was nothing going to keep him from that. It wasn't until the derrick jammed and we had to pull everything apart that he began to question things too. When we finally got the sucker rod up and out of the well, there was hair everywhere.

Swipe Right, Exit Left

By now I've lost track of how many times I've done this.  Swipe right.  Wait and see how he handles being ignored for a little bit.  Start chatting.  Make meaningless small talk for a few days.  Meet up if he suggests it.  Know within the first five minutes what he's actually interested in.  Have an uncomfortably awkward time knowing I never want to see this guy ever again.  Thank him for the night.  "It was nice to meet you too."  Repeat.

I don't know why I keep doing it either; the endless swiping, texting, and meet-ups.  Maybe I've gone insane?  Didn't Einstein or someone say that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results?  Because that's me.  I do this stupid ritual over and over again and after all of these let downs and lapses in judgment and just plain dating nightmares, there is still this childish romantic fibre deep down within me that whispers, "Maybe this time?"  SHUT UP!!  You're wrong!!  But even after getting mad, the fury and embarrassment eventually subsides and here I am again, swiping.  "This time will be different."

+ + +

x

19:41

He's eleven minutes late.  I slide the phone back into my pocket, resisting the temptation to seclude myself from all the happy people outside enjoying the park.  Is this the 5th or 6th time I've met a guy at a park?  As pointless and pathetic as it would be, I'm sort of sad I haven't kept track of these "dates," or whatever they are.  The statistics of it all would be phenomenal.  Something like, 43% of first time meet-ups take place at a bar, 22% at a park -- it could be interesting, right?

"Are you Quinn?"

I nearly jump out of my skin - "Yes! Hi! How are you? I didn't see you com-- I didn't-- Hi."

Yes, this is going perfectly.  An excellent start I'm off to.

"Haha, sorry to startle you.  I'm Travis.  So, uh, do you want to go for a walk?"

My body consents and begins walking before I can even yelp out, "Sure!"

Things are not good.  I want a redo.  Why did I let myself sit there and stew about dating and all that crap before he got here?  He's actually pretty good looking.  What does he do again?  Was it engineering - no, that was what's his face Dillon, or Dylan - IT guy?  Nah, that doesn't seem right, he's more handsome than that.  Lawyer?  Plumb----  CRAP.  He's looking at me for an answer.

"Huh?"

"I asked how is your day going?"

"Oh - good!  Yup, it's been a good one.  How about yours?"

"Good too, thanks.  I love this park, it's where I come running in the mornings and like to..."

Oh great, another runner.  And let me guess, he travels around to do those stuck-up obstacle course races and likes to drink green juices.  Haha, and I bet he wears t-shirts that say stuff about being outside, wait, is that what he's wearing right now?  Oh good, it's a button-up.  This guy might be half decent, he put on a nice shirt.  Listen to him!  Shut up you idiot and listen!  Wait, where is he?

"Travis?"  Great, I now have a new record for the shortest date ever.  He has left me.  Oh, nope, still there looking at that crowd of people.  He must have stopped walking and I kept going?  Whatever.  What's with the crowd?

"Is anyone a doctor?!  Help, please!!"

Doctor?  Pfff, they wouldn't know what to do in a park with no machines and ---

"I'm a nurse!  Excuse me-- let me through--"

Middle aged man.  Looks like he was jogging.  That must be his wife.  Definitely an infarction--

"Has anyone called 911 yet?"

"Yes, I've also sent somebody to check the bank across the street for an AED."

He obviously knows what he's doing.  He must have been the one to get the guy down in that position.

"Thanks-- here's some water sir, just hang tight, help is on the----"

Oh man, there he goes, yup and she's screaming now.

"Excuse me ma'am-- can someone please move her away from here?"

He's started the compressions.  Finally I get to try out this new valve-mask on my key chain.  Stupid thing, unwrap!

"Twenty-five, twenty-six..."

Place it, get it ready, okay--- breath, breath.  Is it weird that I say that in my head while I do it?

"Two and three and four and five..."

This isn't his first rodeo.  He's pretty good.  Compressions would be pretty easy though with arms like those.  Was he working out too?  No, not dressed for it.  Must be walking home or something.  His hair is done pretty nice.  Not too shabby.

"Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!"

Breath, breath.  There's the siren.  He's really not that old.  Is he a paramedic?  He could be a nurse too.  Maybe a doctor?  They're here.

"He's on the third cycle of compressions."

"Good, we'll take over when he reaches thirty."

This dude is lucky he had that guy and I.  He'll probably be fine.

"Hey, thanks for the help.  You a nurse?"

"Yes, I work at Lois Hole General.  What are you?"

"Just wrapping up my residency - doctor.  By the way, I'm Nate."

Nice, that's a firm hand shake.  His eyes are so dark too.  And his voice is so deep!

"And you are?"

"Oh -- Quinn!  I'm Quinn."

"Nice to meet you.  You don't have any plans right now, do you?  Want to go grab a coffee?"

"Uh -- She's actually with me.  Quinn, that was fantastic!  You totally saved a guy's life!"

What the hell?  Who said that?  Oh-- Travis.  Oh, I'm on a date.

"Actually - sorry Travis.  I feel like a coffee after that.  I'll see you later."

Peppermint

He lived in a world of conveniences and ease, and it irritated him.  He knew it was foolish, even hypocritical, to disdain the things that brought him so much comfort, that saved him hours of time, that made him a modern man, but he did anyways.  And what frustrated him even more was that he didn't have the willpower to simply refuse such conveniences.  No one would understand why a young man his age didn't have a mobile phone or chose to wash his clothes by hand or sought all answers to his questions through the Dewey Decimal System.  Besides, he couldn't bring himself to abandon the technology in his life anyways.  Instead, he invested himself in making it painfully obvious to anyone in his path that he belonged in a different decade.

"Newsies called and they want their suspenders and hat back." Just another muffled insult hurled at him on the train.

By now he had grown accustomed to the stares, both curious and cantankerous.  He found that the elderly and young children adored his garb as it reminded them of better days or playing dress-up.  Middle aged business men glared at him for being so impractical.  Teenaged boys and young men liked to heckle him with outright or whispered mirth and toss scoffs his way like stones.  But the majority of girls and women seemed to get it.  He knew the era he longed for held a certain romance, perhaps that was what they grasped in his appearance.  Whatever it was, the teenaged girls stole shy, giggly glances at him while the matronly women often examined him for a long second proceeded by a hurried half grin before returning to their busy present.  Young women either dismissed him immediately or were intrigued.  Intrigue looked like a series of fleeting glances, aimed at his eyes rather than his clothes.  Unlike the many more obvious reactions he encountered, intrigue was what he noticed most and responded to.

She wasn't the first girl to peer at him over the top of a book, but she was the first to catch his undivided attention.  When he sensed a girl's curiosity, he figured it was gentlemanly to engage in a light conversation, whether it be asking about what she was reading, commenting on the weather, or paying her a simple compliment.  This he proceeded to do quite soon after noticing their attention.  But not today.  She was different.  Perhaps it was the Fitzgerald she was reading or the cat eye glasses she had on.  Whatever it was, he was frozen.  He knew beginning a conversation with her was imminent, but his sudden bout of nerves had him confused and his procrastination only made matters worse as nerves turned to panic.

What would he say?  Whatever it was, it needed to be quickly.  She could be getting off any minute.

"Heh hem.  Would you like a peppermint?" The nerves and panic melted away into what felt a lot like embarrassment.  Who offers a complete stranger a peppermint?  But it had felt right.  Peppermint made him think of commitment.  Unlike a piece of gum, peppermints demanded to be held onto and savoured.  And she made him think of peppermint.

x

SaveSave