wrangled and wrinkled.

Sunday, October 17, 2004

Secrets though, lend themselves to be strange bed fellows. One moment you're glad to have kept yourself so pure. Not tainting them with a stranger's opinion and heresy. I'd be a good cowboy. It's was not to talk to anyone. All you have is cattle and they listen to you in silence. Not Constance.

In fact, just the name Constance leads you to believe, and this just by hearing the name: That she is better than you. Or she can do something better than you. Like in first grade, if you and her we in those reading groups, she'd be a blue bird reading at 3rd grade level and you were still trying to pronounce simple words. She'd play it off, though. Demeaning herself if ever she got a better grade than you.

"Gosh, I really thought I was going to fail this test. Geez. So how did you do?"
"I got a 62."
"Oh, I'm really sorry, but really, I didn't study at all. It must be some fluke."

This heavenly girl could also be conniving. Not in the usual woman head game thing, but because she could think 4 moves ahead, she'd get you.

Just then, she barged in on Tim and I.

"Oh, how are you doing?" This greeting wasn't directed to anyone in general. It was to show us she didn't favor one over the other. Evading all conflict, she gave us a "cover-all" hello, and it was just subtle enough for us to accept it as a kind gesture. She often wore herself thin being everything to everyone. People loved and adored her though. Every single time she saw you it was like you had been locked away for a quarter of a century.

"So what are you doing tonight?" Addressing the two of us, not making eye contact, but focusing her gaze upon the single poster in my room: One of the latest pop star, of course hung in jest, but none the less a guilty pleasure of mine.

"I will probably bum around." Tim explained, as if Constance and I or his other friends weren't good enough to make some sort of commitment or arrangement to hang out. "I've been pretty tired lately, and really diving into my work. I can't imagine me being anyone's idea of good company."

Cutting him off in mid-stream she gave some encouragement. "Tim, you know no one thinks that!"

This is what made his and hers relationship a special one. Tim needed affirmation frequently, and Constance, the patron saint of everything good and nice was more than welcome to buffer his fragile ego. I'd like to think Con had a heart of gold, but even her words seemed light on sincerity. She, like Tim hated any sort of commitment.

No comments: