"1,913 - Encounter (2)

*From my book "1,913

Sometime in late July, I had started smoking. I think it was mostly because my hands had become bored with the state of things and Thomas was always willing to share his early death.
One night I was choking down a cigarette with Thomas outside of his store when we spotted Nathan walking up. He was wearing the same nice shoes, belt, and expensive watch as the night before, but his hair seemed more perfectly messy. As He drew closer I was struck by his smile.
“Hey guys, how are you two?”

He had a styrofoam cup in his hand with an anarchy symbol drawn on it. I thought it was a bit out of place for such a civilized young man. I raised an eyebrow and pointed at it.
“I was feeling a bit anarchical tonight.”

I don’t know what it was, but the way He said it so matter-of-a-factly amused me. That symbol juxtaposed with him seemed clearly out of place for a boy I thought so innocent and naïve. Yet when confronted with it, his answer was smooth and natural as if that simple statement was the absolute last word on the matter. How could I possibly ask another question?

Thomas had been right, there was something about him. I felt like I had lost a battle, and in a way I had. I told myself I would not be fond, interested, intrigued, or any other state that could possibly lead to emotions down the line, but I was taken by Nathan.

“Thomas, why did you make me meet this guy?! Life has conditioned me to know there isn’t any way this will have a productive outcome. But it’s too late now, I’m interested.”

“What, you’re not ready for a voyage of deception and half-truths? Just face it the way you would after a bottle of Goldschlagger, ‘Does it feels right now?’.”

So in the following weeks I became the greatest consumer of fountain drinks there will ever be. I took every opportunity to drive Thomas to work, and successfully ran into Nathan a few times. We had short, casual conversations.

I learned that He had been married and had a child. Although it was never spoken to me, I later pieced together that He and his wife had separated because He had renounced their Mormon faith. He’d gone on a mission to Brazil and spoke fluent Portuguese. As if that were not enough, He thought himself an artist and played bass in a band that was significantly influenced by one of my favorite bands. Coincidentally, He was moving to a neighboring town the same weekend Thomas and I were moving out of our apartment.