A Flash of Jazz - Acoustic Bicycle


 

When Abby declared that she was now the proud owner of an acoustic bicycle, I rolled my eyes and congratulated her on finally getting that last badge that would claim her to be a Black Hipster. She looked at me as though I had just told the funniest joke. You're just jealous that you didn't know the term, she laughed. At that moment, I wanted to leave but instead replied with - I've heard that snarky ass term before, thank you very much. In fact, I added with my own spoon of snark as I leaned forward on the table, I first heard it when I hung out with that really cool singer-songwriter, you know the one? Now she rolled her eyes at me, giving me full permission to continue on my soapbox. Yeah, yeah, the one who talked about planting wildflowers every time someone purchased her CDs. THAT one. So, Abby replied, I guess you're now going to save the planet, stop eating burgers, and plant a fucking tree every time someone farts? How very original, Wendell. The way she said my name was a sign that no, she wasn't kidding around anymore and yes, her aggravation with me steadily rose. However, deep down inside me, I started not to care any longer. While I did enjoy myself at the environmental workshop hosted by that singer, I also met people who were more like me. People who actually gave a damn and called a bicycle a BICYCLE. I also began to realize that I was no longer in love with Abby. For three years, we had fought and made up repeatedly, made love repeatedly, and embraced our Black Hipster ways repeatedly. We did everything on repeat until I noticed that I was soon on auto-pilot and no longer remembered that I was breathing. Abby, on the other hand, couldn't get enough of our status covered by a concrete upper-middle-class life. While Abby droned on about some TV show she watched last night, I thought about that strange and quiet woman I met in the workshop. How when she told me that she was an introvert, I wanted to cry, and not in a bad way. I enjoyed talking with her, Katrina was her name (like the hurricane, she said with a sad laugh, since she was from New Orleans), and when we exchanged email addresses, I knew that what I wanted more than anything in the world was a friendship with her. I sipped my jasmine green tea, and my eyes immediately focused on Abby's animated face. Suddenly, she stopped mid-sentence and cocked her head to the side. What's making you smile like that, she asked with a slight purr in her tone as she leaned forward. I straightened up in my chair and took a large sip of my tea, not caring that it burned my soul and not in a good way. Hey, she added, sorry about the earlier comment, okay? She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. Forgive me, Wendell? You know you're the only one for me. She uncrossed her eyes and finished off her iced coffee. I smiled at Abby as I asked, when was the last time you read a book? Huh? she asked as she leaned back. When was the last time you visited the library, or painted a sunset, or walked along a beach? I glanced around the tea house and added, when was the last time you actually lived? Abby gaped like a fish as I got up, gathered my belongings, and stood up. I gripped the back of the chair with trembling hands as I thought - shit, am I really doing this?! Enjoy your acoustic bicycle, I murmured then turned and left the teahouse. By the time I was outside, I realized that Abby never called out my name. 


Inspirational music - Waltz Blue Side by Steve Kuhn Trio



Viridian Tea Company - Strange and Unusual TEA BLENDS, plus ART and BOOKS!

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