Snapshots ii

NANTES

3.  Café crème.

The first time I met him was at one of his parties, when he poured the entire contents of my bottle of shitty seven-euro Bourgogne down the drain, holding it melodramatically vertical upside-down above his head as the brickred liquid dropped through several feet of empty space and splashed wildly into the kitchen sink – five or six of us sitting looking on; me staring with mouth in open o; he pompously but with youthful charm declaring Ça, c’est de la merde!  Je vais te goûter du bon vin. He then proceeding to decant a near-third of another bottle, one of his bottles, into my glass. Down the hatch: bewilderment, pride, and a much tastier inebriant.

*             *             *             *             *             *             *             *

4.  Pernod with water.

Months later, after we’d become somewhat involved, he left me screaming and cursing and kicking at the tires of parked cars as I trudged back across three miles of night-darkened city in pitch-forking rain. He had stood me up as only a handsome and charismatic nineteen-year-old French boy could. I had paced for over an hour on the wide concrete steps of Theâtre Graslin, dolled up under my coat, absent-mindedly watching the little Peugeots circle the Place, punching again and again his number on the keypad of my mobile, getting only dial tones and static and occasional inaudible blips of his voice. The minutes on my SIMcard withered. My adrenaline coursed. I was spiked through with aloneness, with bitter disappointment. As I tromped up to and past le Château des ducs de Bretagne, the sky (as opaque and closed as a tupperware lid) seemed to be dumping acid onto the earth, an acid which got inside me somehow, and stoked the leaping tongues of anger into further territories of fury. Upon reaching home I climbed the four stories to my attic room, silently so as not to disturb the sleep of host parents, and lay sopping and shaking on the sailboats of the tiny bedspread, set to implode with the magnitude of my outlet-less rage.

~ by kingzoko on January 14, 2013.

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