musings on a (not so) flat chested girl -- part five

Since Garrick was nice enough to let me borrow his big white whale of a car, "The Oldsmobuick" as I had dubbed it, I set off for Dakota's apartment in San Marcos. She left only slightly before me, but she tended to drive as if her life depended on traveling at a speed normally reserved for cars on a circular track so I was on my own. I put together a case of my favorite Cd's but I only ended up needing one, Spoon's A Series of Sneaks. It was a fitting album to listen to; the rapid pace and driving rhythms of songs like "30 Gallon Tank" and "Car Radio" seemed to sync up with my pounding heart, which in turn was propelling me to drive faster and faster, or at least as fast as that big old white whale could handle. I didn't even notice the thirty minute drive time or the endless repetition of billboards and gas station signs that adorned the highway along the way.

Dakota's apartment complex was typical of most such places in Texas: Sprawling, bland and without character. Building 101 looks exactly like building 501, and it's virtually impossible to find the specific unit you're looking for if you've never been there before. I parked Garrick's car in a parking space that looked vaguely familiar, got out, and paced back and forth for a minute trying to figure out if I was in front of the right building. I was without a mobile phone so I just decided to head up the stairs in front of me hoping for the best. My choice of a parking space turned out to be fortuitous as I found her place on the first try. I knocked on the door anticipating another long wait while she put all of her things in place, but instead she immediately opened the door and invited me in. She said it was nice to see me again, I said the same. I looked around her apartment, taking notice of the Vonnegut on her bookshelf, the Cirque du Soleil posters on the wall, the bench press weights in the corner. I told her of our shared love for Vonnegut, of my mother's love for the French Canadian acrobats, and thought better of a joke about working out since she had already seen me naked. She had two kittens, Charles and Charge. I played with the cats while she put some things away in the kitchen and asked me questions about California. She had taken to calling me "Hollywood," which for her was a term of endearment. She had never been to L.A. and expressed how much she would like to visit despite what she had heard. I told her I heard all of the same things before I moved and that it wasn't all totally like that. Yes, it could be a lousy place to visit without a proper guide, but it was a great place to live. Unlike any other place I'd ever been, full of interesting, if sometimes pretentious, people. She said her ex-boyfriend Jack had been there recently and had a great time, but her previous man Jeremiah had gone and hated it. It was starting to make sense why he had such a profound hatred for me, aside from the fact that he still desperately wanted her, that is. As we talked, I looked around her apartment some more. I noticed a picture of her and Jeremiah from a trip they took to New York City, a sticker of the Scottish flag on her computer. She noticed my curiousness and volunteered some information. She and Jeremiah were previously engaged but she just wasn't ready to get married at that point. She needed some time to just have some fun being a college student. Fair enough, I thought. If I was part of "having fun" I couldn't much complain as I wasn't looking for any relationship and planned on returning to Hollywood anyway. I felt lucky that I met her in the first place and couldn't worry too much about what would take place in the future.

That evening we decided to rent a movie and stay in. We went to the local Blockbuster Video store and perused the selection of films they had for rental. We picked About Schmidt as we were both fans of Election and Jack Nicholson. After picking out the movie we went to the grocery store, bought some frozen pizzas and a case of cheap beer. A pretty girl who likes good movies, pizza and beer? I was in heaven. We returned to her place, put the pizza in the oven and twisted a couple of bottle caps. She had some chocolate Popsicles in the freezer and offered me one. I happily accepted. I told her I hadn't had any kind of Popsicle since I was in grade school. She didn't seemed surprised or interested or amused, so I dropped it. We drank beer as we waited for the pizza to cook, and when it was done she put the two kittens away in her room so we wouldn't be disturbed while we ate on the living room floor and watched the movie. When the movie was over we put away our plates in the kitchen sink, drank two more beers, and took the padding of a wicker chair she had in the corner of the room and placed it on the floor. We removed our clothes and began to explore each other's bodies with our lips, tongues and fingertips. All of a sudden I stopped and jumped up. She wasn't sure what to make of my behavior, but I reassured her:

"Don't worry, I just need to get something. Be right back."

I ran into the kitchen, grabbed a chocolate Popsicle, tore the wrapper off, and sat myself down in front of her slight, pale, naked body. She lay down on the floor and grabbed a pillow to muffle herself. All was right with the universe.