as usual

friday 13 may

As usual, I am nervous. I rush into the airport restroom and check my makeup. I have barely slept this week, and it shows. My face is pale and bloodless, and I have dark circles under my eyes. I try to hide the signs of my fatigue, but give up when I realize it is already 9:30.

The line for taxis is frustratingly long and slow, and then I get into a cab with the world’s oldest driver. We cruise along, and finally get into the city, where he calmly navigates the one-way streets at 20 miles per hour. Finally, we arrive.

I open Clerk’s door, and already a few guests are sitting around, drinking beers. I recognize W, the maniacal Southern gentleman, and A, one of the other law school pals. Clerk comes over to greet me, with a kiss. As usual, my heart flutters a little when I see him. He wears a faded blue T-shirt underneath a long-sleeved, striped dress shirt, and holds a beer.

I hide in his closet, changing and sending one final work e-mail. My computer is slow, and I am impatient, waiting for the messages to send. I am wearing a bra and jeans, pawing through my suitcase, when I look up and see him standing in the closet doorway, smiling at me.

Finally, I am changed and ready to emerge. Clerk stands outside his bedroom talking with a group of friends, and I excuse myself as I duck through their group. As I cross in front of him, Clerk reaches out and touches my hair, and I smile to myself.

I meet S, Clerk’s goofy freshman roommate, who is also staying with Clerk that night. I hug W and A, and we chat a bit. W and I talk for a bit, and somehow the subject of Clerk’s ex-girlfriend arises.

I whisper to him, “Apparently, I met her that weekend!”

“I know,” he says.

I complain, “I can’t remember her at all. W, you’ve gotta give me the story.”

“Oh, I will.” he promises, before turning to greet his own ex-girlfriend, a perky, trendy blond girl, who has just shown up.

A couple of my friends show up, including R, the friend who had stayed with me on New Year’s Eve. I am intensely curious about R’s opinion of Clerk. I can’t explain it, but I fear the two will not get along. R and I stand in the kitchen for a long time, catching up, and Clerk comes in and introduces himself. It is funny, watching the two of them. When I first met Clerk, I actually thought he looked a bit like R, on whom I had an intense, naïve, crush in college. Now, seeing the two of them together, I feel a little jittery seeing their particular similarities: coloring, features.

S, Clerk, and I start talking about S’s interest in a girl on the other side of the room, and S complains about the lack of women in Philadelphia. He turns to Clerk and asks, “Isn’t your girlfriend moving to Philadelphia?” and I feel my shoulders tense, as I give them both a skeptical look.

“Oh, I mean, that girl who’s your friend,” S corrects himself. I arch one eyebrow at Clerk, and walk away to get another beer.

Five hours and several beers later, I am much braver. Somehow, W and I start talking about Clerk’s ex-girlfriend again. As usual, I wish I had had fewer beers before such an important conversation.

W: “Well, we all think she’s terrible. The good thing is, Clerk knows what it’s like to date someone terrible.”

Me: “What do you mean by that?”

W: “Well, she started dating his roommate. My roommate, too. We all lived together.”

Me: “Well, why did Clerk date her, then?”

W: “She gets away with it because she’s haaaaaaaaaaaht.”

Me: I feel sick, when I hear this, but I slur, bravely, “Well, I’m not trying to compete on hot, so...”

W, ever the Southern gentleman, protests: “Oh, come on...”

The others yell at us to leave, so we put down our beers and file out of the apartment towards a nearby dive bar.

After a couple beers, the bar is closing and kicks us out. As we are leaving, I ask S why he hadn’t gone home with D, a pretty petite South Asian girl with whom he had been chatting. “Oh, it seemed weird to make out with someone that Clerk had gone out with,” S says. Even after six beers, this stops me in my tracks. “What?” I look at the S and Clerk. “We went on a few dates,” Clerk protests,” but I arch my eyebrow at him again, and then the three of us head home: S, Clerk, and me.