Free Love Show by Audrey Bell

know. Isn’t this your
idea?”
    “You don’t know?” he laughed. “How
the hell am I supposed to know if you don’t know?”
    I shrugged. “I don’t know. Going
for a drive or something.”
    “A drive!” he laughed.
    “What?”             
    He shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s
go for a drive.”
    He followed me out of the apartment
and down the stairwell to the parking lot.
    I stole a look at Jack. He caught
me staring and smiled back.
    “So,” he said, as I got into his
car. “Where do you want to drive to?”
    I shrugged. “I don’t know. Around.
I could use ice cream.”
    He didn’t say anything about how
cold it was or how far we were from Ben & Jerry’s or how it was probably
too late to go anywhere. “I could do ice cream.”
    There was a long awkwardly silent stretch
of time, after which I demanded, “So, why did you want to talk to me anyways?”
    “Why did you kiss me in the parking
lot?” he asked playfully.
    “I told you. David dared me.”
    “Right. But then you said you chose
me. Why?”
    “I was drunk.”
    He laughed. “You weren’t that
drunk.”
    “Was that your only question?” I
asked. “Because, I can assure you that we have nothing in common. And I can
also assure you that whatever you’re looking for, you’re not going to find it
with me.”
    “You don’t know what I’m looking
for.”
    “Not this.”
    He stole a glance at me. “Okay, so,
what is this?”
    “It’s none of your business,
really,” I said. I ran a hand through my hair.
     “So, first you’re annoyed I only
have one question, and now I’m not allowed to ask questions.”
    “I’m not that uptight,” I said,
although I was certainly acting like it. “You’re allowed to ask questions. Just
not, okay, so what is this ? Because I really don’t know.”
    He laughed. “Fair enough.” He
looked over at me. “Why don’t you ask me a question?”
    “That’s okay.”
    “Oh, come on. Surely, there’s
something you want to know. You’re a reporter.”
    There were plenty of questions I
wanted to ask. But there were plenty of other things I could already tell from
looking at him. Only half of being a good reporter was asking the right
questions. The other half was noticing details, so you wouldn’t have to ask
them.
    “Okay,” I said. “What’s your mother
like?”
    He looked over at me quickly.
“Seriously?”
    I shrugged. “You don’t have to
answer it.” I turned my head and watched the road through the window.
    “No, um…” he thought for a moment
and cleared his throat. “She’s very warm. And….she worries a lot. She’s very
sweet about it. She seems vulnerable. She worries so much about me that I start
worrying about her.” He smiled, a little bit sadly.
    “Are you an only child?” I asked.
    “No. I have a brother. He’s older.
You?”
    “Yeah,” I said. “I mean, I’m an
only child.”
    “What’s that like?” he asked.                 
    “Not as bad as they told you.”
    “So, you’re not a lonely narcissist
who can’t get along with anyone?”
    “Oh, no, I’m definitely that,” I
said. “I just don’t fear independence.”
    He laughed. “I can tell.”
    “What’s your brother like?”
    “Perfect,” he said. “Totally,
completely, un-fucking-believably perfect. It makes me nauseous. Really.” He grinned
at me. “He never even beat me up. Perfect.”
    I laughed. “You must hate his
guts.”
    “Nah.” He shook his head. “I don’t
actually. Well, in high school a little bit. But not anymore.”
    I smiled.
    “He’s…serious. You’d like him.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “Well, you seem kind of serious,”
he said. “He’s a doctor for the Navy. He’s in Afghanistan now.” He rubbed his
chin.
    “God. How long as he been there?”
    “Not too long,” he said. “He went
to the Naval Academy and then to Harvard Medical School and now he’s a trauma
doctor over there. I think it’s been about a year