Monday, October 27, 2008

Aussie



“Why wash your hair?” He says. He who was raised by sexy Australian wolves in the outback, or as I like to imagine. “Shampoo takes the natural oils out and conditioner just puts fake oils back in. So I just skip the whole process.”  I want Aussie, but Aussie wants English (the curvy exchange student from London).

One Saturday night, the three of us are at a party. It is like all other college parties: drinking, smoking, people disappearing. Everyone, (except Aussie, English and I) disappear by 3 a.m. The apartment’s renters point to the foldout couch and to a couch that does not fold out. Then they leave to further entertain guests in their beds. While the flirting foreigners make the bed, I fold out onto the couch and anticipate awkwardness.

Once the lights are turned out, I lay desperately decoding and distinguishing every sheet shuffling sound. Are they just getting comfortable? I wonder. I am not comfortable. And then I hear it: the faintest and yet clearest indication of my current fear: a groan. For the next thirty seconds, I lay in a sweatied agony before jumping up. I know where my shoes are, I think, stumbling at the staircase. I feel around and find my bag. I then stumble toward the general direction of the front door and grab the knob. Outside in the florescent light of the apartment complex’s hallway, I put my shoes on and hurry for fresh air freedom.

 At the end of the parking lot, I realize I don’t really know where I am. All I know is taking a right will send me in the general direction of campus. A ways down the sidewalk, I hear my name and turn around. Under one of the streetlight spills, a shirtless Aussie runs toward me. “I thought you had a girlfriend.” I accuse when he reaches me. He apologizes and explains that his relationship isn’t working. Blah blah blah. I then attempt to hate him, but he is barefoot, shirtless and his hair looks like he has just pranced through the rain forest. I tell him I’m walking back to campus. I shouldn’t go alone, he says. It’s 4a.m now. He’ll walk me back. Oooooooh all right. If Aussie wants to protect me, Aussie can protect me. He’ll be right back. He tells me, leaving me alone with the quiet night. Two minutes later he returns with his boots, his torn plaid shirt and the embarrassed, slightly perturbed English.  This’ll be interesting.

All three of us turn and trek back to campus. For an hour, we stroll through our tired drunkenness and down the yellow lines of dark college streets where trees hang heavy with late Autumn leaves and eventually while the sun is busy splitting from the horizon, we three split from one other, staggering into our separate dorm buildings, wondering what. just. happened?.

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