In the game of Life

I's goes first

public and showy

like I want

I need

I do

as the affirmative

Then it's me's turn

as in me too

in private

a second's guessing's

and then, it's you

you, you, you....

as in you fool

you idiot,

how could you?

I told you!

me and you--

but it wasn't me

f*k you

and you is the voice

in the rear of the head

in that most secret purview.

07.07.2024

The game of life challenge @dctezcan

“When am I ever not at a party?” At first I’d been a bit pleased that Bram had called–because I’m a narcissist that likes attention. And because it’s unlike him to have gone so many days without checking in, considering the circumstances. But now he’s kind of pissing me off. As usual.

I’m standing in the corner of Castle of Stuff, shaking my head at Jamie, who’s at a stuffing station just a few feet away. He’s holding the fabric exterior of a goose against the end of a tube, watching the cotton-candy colored, glitter-infused stuffing churn through the clear pipes that fill the ceiling of the warehouse-like building. He keeps pointing and grinning at me as he watches his goose get filled from the inside. It’s really the kind of stuff only serial killers should enjoy.

“Are there kids there?” Bram sounds more than a little surprised.

I turn towards the wall, attempting to use my body as a sound shield, but shrieking kids run by with their own stuffed animals. And to imagine that Eve has a little brat like these. What a horrible thing to have to look after. “Maybe,” I reply darkly. It's Eve's fault for having her birthday at place clearly designed for people a fifth of our age.

There’s silence on the line, and I sigh deeply. “So. What do you actually want?” I ask him, eyes catching on Eve. She’s standing beside Jamie, looking as young and pretty as she was in college, nailing a simple-but-elegant style but still able to pull off hip, almost-in-your eye, dark bangs. She looks like the world’s most picturesque mother as she smiles and hugs her daughter to her side. There’s no way she’s really that happy to have to take care of a tiny carbon copy of herself, right?

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised; we never liked the same things.

Eve, by her own making, was my best friend in college. We had no similar interests, no overlapping classes, and completely different home lives. Eve went to church every week, I went day drinking; Eve studied calculus and linear algebra, I slept in during my english literature classes; Eve visited her parents and three siblings often, I made any excuse to not see my mother. But she’d been determined to befriend me, so eventually I gave in. Somehow we were roommates for three years.

And now our lives have branched in even more opposing directions, if possible. She married a nice, if boring, nurse. They have a kid and two dogs. They live in a little affordable house in Minnesota. Every year on her birthday I get to hear how fucking happy she is. It’s sickening. I don’t know why she puts up with me.

“Hello?” I’ve completely zoned out, but Bram still hasn’t said anything. What is wrong with this man?

He makes a “hm” kind of noise then says, “Sorry, Masie. I’ve gotta go.” I stare at Jamie’s finished goose, which he’s holding up like Simba, as the line goes dead.

How utterly rude. He calls me, and for what?

I stomp back over to Jamie and Eve and Mini Eve. Mini Eve looks at me through her matchy-matchy dark bangs and points at my pink combat boots. “I like your shoes.”

I am spared from making conversation with the child because Eve asks me, “What is it? Work?” She’s looking at me all doe-eyed, which is how she used to get me to do things in college with her. The worst part is she’s not being manipulative, that’s literally just what her eyes are like. She’s probably half deer.

“Yes,” I say distractedly, since at the same time Jamie is trying to hand me the limp body of the unfinished tiger I’d picked out.

“Was it Bram? How is he?”

I’m holding the tiger by its back leg, letting it dangle in front of me. I can’t help that my eyebrows raise as I look back at Eve. How is Bram? As if I would know. As if she should care? It takes me a second to think of something to say. “He’s really great. He’s doing just fine. Loving life. Just like you and mini-you.” My voice comes out bitter.

Jamie steps on my foot. He really must’ve put some force behind it because I feel it through the boot. This is why I hate hanging out with Eve, it makes me feel like a small dog yapping at a big one for no reason.

“Oh.” Eve gives me a thin smile; she’s not stupid. She takes her daughter by the hand. “We’ll be by the glitter tornado.”

As soon as her back is turned Jamie throws his newly-birthed goose at my head. I’m too slow to dodge, and it bounces off the side of my face. “What the hell?”

He holds up a pointer finger. “There are children around here.”

“Ok. What the fu–”

“You haven’t said a single nice thing to her all day! You begrudgingly said ‘happy birthday’. The first thing you said when you saw her was ‘have you had work done?’” Jamie’s finger is now pointed accusingly at me.

“Oh, right, because you weren’t thinking the same thing?” I fold my arms.

“We see her once a year, Masie.”

“Yeah, exactly. Once a year, so what’s the point? I don’t even know her anymore, and she definitely doesn’t know me. Why bother?”

“Because that’s what friends do. She’s making an effort.”

I laugh. “Making an effort to what? She gets to see me once a year and go, wow, thank god I’m not like this crazy bitch. I’m probably just entertainment for her cute little family, just a reminder of how great she’s got it.”

Jamie’s nostrils are flared, which only happens when he’s really mad because he thinks he looks like a bull when it happens and he tries his best to avoid doing it. “You’re literally so self-centered, Masie. This is her birthday. The world doesn’t revolve around you. I’m your friend, right? I make an effort too. I call you even when you haven’t talked to me in forever, I invite you out when I know you need someone to go with. I let you talk about yourself for hours even though you never ask if I have anything new or different or hard going on. Everyone else has their own life, how can you not see that? And if you don’t want to make an effort, then fine. We won’t either.”

I’m so shocked I literally drop my tiger carcass on the ground. Jamie and I have fought, but not like this. “Is this about something I said last night? Because I was drunk and I don’t really–”

Jamie shakes his head. I think there are tears in his eyes. “No, Masie. But speaking of, when you find a new friend, you should try apologizing to them and not just giving excuses.” He juts his chin into the air. “Now, Hank Featherford and I are going.”

“Hank–?” He swipes his goose off the ground. It's probably a better friend than I am. “Wait. Hey, I’m sorry, Jamie. I–”

He turns on his heel, Hank Featherford clutched against his chest. He’s definitely crying. “I’ll be at the confetti waterfall. Please don’t follow me.” He sniffs.

I scoff, then cringe at myself. Be nice, be nice. “Hey, wait. Is this about us or is this about Eve? Because, honestly, I wasn’t really that mean to her. But we can sort this out!” He’s not listening. And really, I don’t want to go any closer to the confetti waterfall anyway. So I pick up my sad tiger and take a few breaths. I’m not gonna fucking cry when there’s a seven-year-old two feet away, clutching a bright blue dinosaur body and waiting for the stuffing station.

I try miserably to smile at him, and then wander away.

--

(previous chapter)

pt 21: https://www.theprose.com/post/816609/contradictions

she is a

sunflower.

standing tall,

towering above

the torment of

the world.

she wears

a crown

of butter

yellow,

radiant,

almost glowing.

she is full

of

seeds.

seeds of wisdom,

seeds of hope,

seeds of

possibility.

her stalk

can support

anything,

so go

ahead

and throw

it at her.

murders

of crows,

drought,

weedkiller.

she will

remain.

but like

a sunflower

one day

she will

wither

away

&

die.