I woke up in the early afternoon feeling kinda sick.
And it wasn’t just all the booze I drank the night before.
She had that look in her eyes again.
I didn’t stop to think I would wake her up. After all, she was only on the other side of the wall.
I didn’t stop to think at all.
Sure, I was only a disc jockey working an all night shift at the local country music station. And Pat had a gold album (which
he brought with him, framed and everything, in case some of us still hadn’t heard.)
But when he walked into the party it wasn’t the gold album that caught my attention.
It was the girl who walked into the room with him.
She looked a little wild. Almost feral, now that I come to think of it.
Maybe that was the appeal.
All I knew is that I was going to stay relatively conscious till everybody else in the room had passed out.
I knew I didn’t have to worry about the girl. I had a hunch she would be the last one on her feet.
Up until now I’ve been polite.
But there was nothing polite about what happened around five o’clock in the morning.
Pat was passed out on the couch by then , still wearing his buckskin jacket, the one with a mountain range on the back,
hand stitched from various pieces of colored leather.
His gold album was lying on the floor, like a discarded party favor.
The girl just looked at me. Like she knew it was going to happen. I probably mumbled something and that was it.
It was only later Dany told me she had been awake during the whole thing.
Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can still see the expression on her face.
And what has your subconscious been up to?