Peter & Scarlett A Story by Jens and Suzye

As we rushed outside, Claire didn’t even look at me. I was still reeling from the whole experience inside the café that I didn’t mind much, but I made a mental note that I would have to make it up to her somehow. We walked down the street in silence, and I was grateful for it.

I didn’t think there was a way I could explain myself to Claire then; in all honesty, I couldn’t even explain it to myself. The world moved slowly as I contemplated my feelings for Scarlett, jumbled as they were. I don’t know how she could have commanded such a hold on me, even though we had only met once, well, twice now.

We came to the bus stop and Claire turned to me, “Peter, why don’t you catch the next one…” she hesitated, “I need some time”.

I looked at her, but could not read anything from her face. I told her that was fine, and then muttered I’m sorry. I felt terrible for acting as I had, especially since Claire had been there.

I said goodbye and left the bus stop. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but I let my feet find their own way.

After a while, I found myself outside of my bank and realized that Claire was right; I did not have a strong backing in funds. I entered the bank and walked up to one of the cashiers. If I had not had my mind on Scarlett and the day’s events, I might have noticed that my cashier was very pretty. She asked me if I knew my account number, and I told her I didn’t and asked if she could look up my name. After a little work on her computer she pulled up my balance and told me, I had three hundred and seven dollars in my account. I asked for a withdrawal slip and filled it out. She took it back and after more work on her computer opened her cash drawer. She handed me two hundred dollar bills and a twenty. I thanked her and left.

As I went outside as breeze caught me surprise. It simultaneously made me feel cold and hopeful, as if some heated shamefulness came away with the wind.

I walked around some more, in a rather aimless sort of way. I came to a park and walked through it, staring at my feet and the path ahead the entire time. I couldn’t bring myself to look up and potentially interact with anyone. I continued my lonesome march and decided I needed something to clear my head.

I chose not to take the bus anywhere because I didn’t want to be close to anyone, so I walked all the way back to my neighborhood and found myself walking again with no aim. I told myself I would need to find some sort of obtainable goal to give me some purpose because I was losing myself a little bit.

I decided I could use a drink, even though it was only noon, my head was muddled, and I thought that I should muddle it a little more. I didn’t want to go home now though, Claire didn’t deserve to put up with me yet, and I didn’t want to have to explain myself to her. Not that I didn’t trust her, but I didn’t really trust myself at this point; I was still confused by my own actions earlier in the morning.

I walked myself over to “The Flying Fish” to find that it was closed. Disappointed, I slumped forward against the door and felt a sudden sense of fatigue roll over me. I didn’t know how I had gotten myself in this situation; even farther from my mind was how I would get out of it. I tried to tell myself that Scarlett was just a girl, one who I had only met once and during that meeting had tried her best to belittle me. I tried telling myself that the people who had seen me in the little café were people who I would never have to face again. I tried to tell myself many things, but in the end, I realized that I would have to face them again, I would have to deal with this, and that I had become crazy for Scarlett.

Suddenly the door flew open behind me and I found myself on the floor looking up at Allison.

She picked me up and said, “Are you really that desperate for a drink”?

“Um,” I said, and then thought about it for a second, “Yeah, I really am.”

She looked me up and down and then said, “Oh honey, come talk to your friendly local bartender.”

She took me up to the bar and told me to tell her my problems.

“Well,” I said, “it all started when I was waiting for the bus.”