She turns up later that night with a dozen jello shots, a sketchbook under one arm, and a box of cock-shaped popsicles against an ice pack in her backpack.]
I brought party games, since we're apparently redoing our twenties!
"I'm a hippie," he teases. "Everything I do has some hidden meaning to it. Otherwise what's the point? I couldn't be wise and mysterious and people couldn't tease me about it otherwise."
"I'll tease you about whatever I want," she counters, and offers him a jello shot.
"Sara made 'em. They're safe, except the proof rating. And mine have jalapeno juice in them, I guess. But let's see your receipts: what've you been drawing?"
"I wanted to do something more complicated - a bowline or a half hitch or something, but. I'm not that good." She's back to the dandelion again, though she couldn't say why.
"Dandelions are considered weeds because they grow so fast, and their roots are hard to pull up. But every part of them is useful - edible or medicinal - and bees love them," she explains. "And there's the wishing, the good luck. Sun and wind and earth all together."
"I like them because they spread so far. I like the thought that when they die, they live on in a hundred places far from where they fell." It's all he's wanted, really. To matter in a dozen places, even if he never belonged to a single place or person in his life.
~~~> Spam ]
She turns up later that night with a dozen jello shots, a sketchbook under one arm, and a box of cock-shaped popsicles against an ice pack in her backpack.]
I brought party games, since we're apparently redoing our twenties!
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I was going for something thought out and deliberate but impulsive and drunken works, too.
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"You got something thought out and deliberate hidden behind asking me to do something crazy?"
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"Sara made 'em. They're safe, except the proof rating. And mine have jalapeno juice in them, I guess. But let's see your receipts: what've you been drawing?"
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He has a few pages now, flowers on one and birds on another. A praying mantis on one, a dandelion gone to seed on the last.
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"Oh my god," she groans as she looks at them, because: "You are such a hippie."
But she's smiling, tracing a finger over the dandelion. He drew these thinking of her. She knows a page of love when she sees one.
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He's going to have another Jell-o shot. They're delicious.
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There are a lot of smiley faces, a 90's diamond S in 3D. A Kilroy was here looking over a line from nowhere.
More seriously, on another page, a simplified compass. A rudimentary set of joined hands. A square knot.
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"I like this," he says, tracing the square knot with a finger.
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"I wanted to do something more complicated - a bowline or a half hitch or something, but. I'm not that good." She's back to the dandelion again, though she couldn't say why.
"What's your favorite superstition, J?"
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That's an easy answer. "Friday the 13th. 13 is a lucky number as often as it's unlucky, so every Friday the 13th felt special. I always celebrated."
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"We should, next time," she offers.
"Dandelions are considered weeds because they grow so fast, and their roots are hard to pull up. But every part of them is useful - edible or medicinal - and bees love them," she explains. "And there's the wishing, the good luck. Sun and wind and earth all together."
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"I like that they're so simple, but they never, ever slip or quit. They just get tighter the more you pull on them."
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"Let's combine them," she decides. "Keep it simple, but make the stems the knot."
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He's just going to grab a popsicle for himself, because yeah, it's pretty funny.
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"Here what do you think - like this -" She fills in the center, four intersecting lines, two dandelion heads, one in each opposite corner.
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"Where are you going to put it?"
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"They're matching tattoos, right?"
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"I can meet you in the city tomorrow after shift," she offers. Then she grins: "Or we can go now. We have a fucking car."
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"Hot tub it is."
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