Maybe
The party was like a snake, slowly wrapping around the guests until they could no longer move - the dance floor empty, the balconies sparse. Maybelle let her sandals dangle off one finger, tired and unwilling to move.
Cassidy, Taylor, and Daysha were still gathered around a cocktail table, empty glasses pushed to the side to make room for a tarot card reading. Maybelle had gone to the bathroom then decided to wait here, near the doors, instead of making her way back over. Her feet hurt and her head felt muddied a little as she leaned against a pillar and admired the ballroom.
It had been a surprise that her friend group had even been invited. Chelsea and Brian had gotten engaged, which had been the absolute talk of campus, for the seniors at least. Maybelle couldn't imagine being engaged; hell, she'd never even had a romantic partner before. And then they'd thrown the most grand engagement party their college had ever seen, thanks to Chelsea's family fortune. Campus was small, and pretty much all the seniors knew each other, but Maybelle still hadn't expected the little champagne-accompanied invitation at her apartment door. Maybe Chelsea left one at everyone's door.
The party was held in a historical building just off campus, only a ten minute walk for Maybelle and her friends, but they'd never been inside before today. It was once a grand hotel, according to the plaques, and standing inside it now, Maybelle wished she could time travel back and see it in its full, bustling glory.
She imagined butlers holding leather suitcases in their gloved hands, trolleying them up to the rooms that now held snack tables and offices. Women wearing pearls and little hats would walk into the ballroom, short heels clicking on the marble floor. They'd watch the men at the bar across the way, adjust their lipstick and pretend they didn't notice when the men watched them back.
Maybelle looked up into the sparkling chandeliers, across at the staircase winding up to the balcony, watching two people she vaguely knew flirt with each other, bumping shoulders and suppressing smiles. The ballroom was almost empty now, just a scattering of people at its edges, hidden partially by the large flower arrangements - pink roses and massive fern leaves. Chelsea and Brian were long gone now, and the warm lighting was dim, the pop music replaced by generic Muzak drifting faintly through the room.
"Still here, Maybe?"
Calvin stood just on the other side of the pillar she was leaning against. She was surprised he hadn't brought his friends around with him. They'd been lingering around her table all evening, making jokes while the rest of them rolled their eyes. At one point Maybelle had to pull Taylor away from body-slamming Seb, who kept telling her that her red dress made her look like a crab.
"Still don't know how to tie a tie?" she quipped automatically, peering around the pillar at him. He'd shown up with a knotted tie that, while maybe technically correct, looked horribly uneven. Now it hung over his neck completely undone, pulling her eyes to the unbuttoned button on his dress shirt.
She moved at the same time he did, and they ended up toe-to-toe, looking at each other. Maybelle didn't like that she was close enough to see the beginning of stubble on a face she considered to be always cleanly shaven. "I didn't realize you'd care so much," he said, looking down at their feet. His were in worn tennis shoes, despite the rest of his outfit being formal, and hers were bare. "Forgot how to wear shoes?"
"If you keep staring I'll assume you have a fetish," she told him. "At least I tried." Maybelle held her small pastel pink sandals in between them, brushing them against his stomach and causing Calvin to take a step back.
He narrows his eyes, a familiar expression to her. "Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" She knew he was referring to the fetish comment, but she didn't engage. Boys were predictable, and predictably, he trailed after her when she said nothing and walked around him.
When she reached her table of friends, he was just a step behind. What she hadn't noticed was Seb had squeezed himself between Taylor and Daysha, and Cassidy was explaining his tarot cards to him.
"Basically it means you're gonna die," Taylor interjected melodramatically.
Daysha laughed, and Cassidy shook her head. "No, it doesn't." Cassidy's long fingers splayed over the Three of Swords, and she directed her intense gaze on Seb. "It means heartbreak; you think you've found what you're looking for but it falls through your fingers, lost, leaving you feeling isolated. Not necessarily over a person, even."
"Heartbreak over something other than a person? Sounds like Seb. He'll probably lose his last save in a video game or something," Calvin laughed.
Seb held both index fingers up in front of him. "Whoa, man. As if you have any more game than I do. All that Magic the Gathering is like girl-repellant."
"I'm actually extremely sought-after," Calvin tried to say, but Taylor drowned him out with, "At least he's actually nice to people sometimes." Even though she was a foot shorter than Seb, she was still the most intimidating person Maybelle knew. Luckily for Seb, they were all well aware that Taylor would actually rather sleep with him than strangle him, despite the way she acted.
The rest of them let Taylor and Seb argue, and Cassidy spun her arms around, her long, bat-winged sleeves almost knocking over an empty glass. "Calvin! Your turn for a reading."
He picked up a card suspiciously, moving in towards the table, brushing up against Maybelle's side. "I don't think so."
Cassidy deftly took the card back and shuffled the deck. "If you play something called Magic then I'm sure you'll survive this," she told him breezily.
He made a grim but thoughtful expression, and Maybelle laughed into her hand. He turned at the sound, pinning her with eyes like a hawk. "Fine." Lower, he said to Maybelle, "But put those away, or I'll be too distracted to pay attention." He glanced under the table at her feet, and she huffed.
"Yeah, right. You could make an effort to just not look at me at all, how about that?"
Calvin snorted. "Easily." And Maybelle accidentally caught Daysha wiggling her eyebrows at her. Cassidy had a more subtle satisfied smile on her face. Her friends thought that Calvin and Maybelle's bickering actually meant something, but Maybelle was less convinced.
Calvin was an ever-present distraction, Maybelle knew that. They shared three classes this semester, and each one felt like another opportunity for him to show her up. He was stupidly smart and wildly good at debating, whereas Maybelle was good on paper and couldn't speak when other people looked at her. She'd endured his presence since freshman year, when they'd gotten to know each other during a group debate in a philosophy class. Despite being on the same side of the debate, he had successfully humiliated her by writing out an argument for her to say. It had been riddled with nonsensical and pretentious phrasing, and when she stumbled over her words he'd swooped in like a savior. She wished for every moment after that that she had just broken from his script, but her mind always went blank in moments where she most needed it.
From there Maybelle had poured all of her energy into what she was good at: thinking ahead. She let him have his debates, but she aced every written test and paper. They continued to play this game in their classes today - the two of them consistently had the highest grades in every one of their classes. She knew there was a good chance he liked her, but now that the end of senior year was approaching, what was the point? And besides that, did she like him?
Cassidy was beckoning Calvin close, whispering something as he bent across the table to hear it. Maybelle was jostled by Taylor, who had come around to the other side of the table after calling Seb a dickweed. Maybelle had completely zoned out and missed Calvin's reading, and was beginning to feel the full weight of the night. It was late.
She saw the cards on the table: Seven of Cups for the past, a reversed Eight of Wands for the present, and The Lovers for the future. Maybelle didn't have any of the meanings memorized, but the last one felt self-explanatory. She pushed away from the table, fairly sure Cassidy was in control of the cards, not that she'd ever accuse her friend of that to her face. But in this case it seemed likely.
Taylor took this opportunity to pull her to the side, nearly poking them both in the eye with ferns. "How does my makeup look?" She peered through the leaves back at the table, now a few feet away.
Maybelle did a once-over of her friend. "You literally look like you did at the beginning of the night. Still stunning." It was true, not even a hair was out of place on her blonde head. She must've used a lot of hairspray. Taylor waved a hand. "So my face isn't red or anything? Seb's such a bastard."
After a sigh, Maybelle said, "Yeah, you always say that."
Crossing her arms, Taylor looked at Maybelle. "Alright, Sassy. I hear you complain about Calvin all the time so I don't wanna hear it. Speaking of, why didn't you dance with him?"
Now Maybelle frowned over at the rest of the group. Calvin was still talking to Cassidy, pointing at his cards. His hair was kind of mussed. "He never asked."
Taylor let out a prolonged groan. "This isn't the fifties. You guys have rom-com levels of sexual tension. You could have asked him."
Scrunching up her nose, Maybelle turned back to Taylor. "I don't think that's accurate. And what about you and Seb?" Immediately Taylor's chin jutted into the air, but she said nothing, which was a telling sign. "Taylor? Did something happen?" It would be a relief.
"I might be going to his place tonight. Maybe."
Maybelle internally squealed and externally couldn't stop a grin. "Oh my god, finally."
Taylor was two inch shorter than Maybelle even with her heels on, but she managed to still give the impression of looming over her. "Not a word. It's totally casual, but just, feels right."
Daysha was calling their names, so Maybelle just nodded back, grin still in place. Taylor smiled a little too, contrasting it by saying, "But I might not. Just maybe."
"Maybe, maybe, maybe." The rest of the group was wandering over, minus Cassidy, who was putting her cards away. But it was Calvin, who was behind Daysha and Seb, who had spoken. 'Maybe,' his nickname for Maybelle.
Her eyes skimmed over him, but she then pointedly ignored him. When Cassidy joined them, Maybelle noticed how quiet the ballroom had become. Nearly empty, as it was probably approaching 2 AM. When they opened the hotel's large front doors, a gust of cold night air hit them, sending goosebumps down Maybelle's bare arms.
Maybelle watched Taylor mutter something to Seb, who had to bend down to hear her, then they parted, Seb going left and Taylor going right. Daysha and Cassidy turned right and called goodbye to the boys. Maybelle was last to descend the hotel's stairs, and she watched Calvin, tie almost lifted off his shoulders by the wind, turn left with the barest wave of his hand. Without saying goodbye, he walked away.
Her bare feet hit the cold sidewalk, damp from a little rain, and she turned right to follow her friends back. But she did turn back once, just to look, but he was just a shadow in the night by then.
When It’s winter
There's something about winter
When it snows
When the sky turns red and cobalt blue
The silence it brings
Its like every breath condensation is saying something
Speaking the unspoken
When the outside is so cold
That the soul starts warming up
from the memories and feelings
I walk outside
The crowded places as quiet as ever
I can hear the snowflakes landing on my dress
The cold burn of wind hitting my face
The sound of my boots walking on snow
I can feel it all
I tilt my head upwards
Snowflakes are now landing on my face
Gently
With care
The Cohabitation of Silver and Bone
If you remove my bones piece by piece
And replace them all with silver rods,
At what point do you begin to create?
At what point do I become a fraud?
I must consider, I must not forget
The glorious nature of human error.
The unique grace of knicks and bumps,
These imperfections lessen my terror.
Now I have no problem if you needed some help,
Consulted an engineer to make a design to begin.
The stylistic vices of structure and form
Are harder for some to dip their toe in.
But if I find out that your “creation”
Was solely constructed by mechanical chops,
Well then, my friend, it seems that, in fact,
Against silver, the organic has already lost.
One Sentence Descriptions of Guys I’ve Dated
1. Unemployed treehouse architect and amateur comedian
2. Toothless southern troubadour/roofer with a drug problem
3. Troubled Seattle poet who could drink his weight in Evan Williams
4. Extra large Italian laborer with Tony Soprano aspirations
5. Pint sized pseudo anarchist/lothario with a penchant for spousal abuse
6. Globe-trekking foppish Australian with near crippling ADHD
7. Insecure bike messenger who ghosted me after I saw his micro penis
8. Tax-avoiding Israeli who hated America but really loved her women
9. Towering blond lawyer with a love of the Beach Boys and being creepy
10. Honorable mention: guy who drunkenly peed on my floor, so I sold his Dreamcast for $50 to get some extra beer money
to never underestimate the power of words
my life's too easy
to feel so listless
i'm always asking the page to tell me something new:
the next words,
the next step,
the next thing to believe
is that what i am, just empty-headed?
a monster of society's making, pinched into
shape by the people standing nearby to me?
glass towers never looked so empty,
even when they shimmer like crystal
take my words, spin them like silk into scarves
lay them at eye-level and tell me something
i don't know
bare my chest
my neck, my shoulders, my thighs
touch this skin
but you're incapable of seeing
what's just inside
i'm afraid of being seen but you
don't see it
you may force these words
from my lips or from the page
and still
they drop meaninglessly into your palms,
my lifeblood, my pain and love and sorrow -
my entire reality, in pieces, at your
fingertips and it all means nothing to you
you, who have not the keys to unlock them
you, who has not the courage to ask what it is
you, who has taken what i do not give
you, who still does not understand the power words hold
the power that i wield
and forget
for it and many other things have been used against me
and you are too blind
and i am too cowardly
and words rise and fall between us like the beating heart
dec 2 24
