The Last Time Someone Made You Mad...
A large Westside party, house nestled into the canyon, the night sky brightened with lantern balls. I’ve had an edible, one vodka cocktail an hour ago. I’m in a very good mood on a couch outside, minding my own business when an intoxicated man turns and sits beside me.
The man and I had talked earlier in the night. Nothing deep. He turns away from his current conversation and we are alone. He’s a few inches taller than me and I assume he has seen a lot more shit than I have. I base this assumption mostly off his tattoo choices.
”X is an asshole” He nudges my elbow.
“I was waiting for your friend to leave so I could find out your name.”
”My name is Kelly, and I don’t like, X either.”
”Z said they tried to kill themselves because of, X.”
I think about this and didn’t realize, ”I didn’t know that.”
”WHY DO YOU THINK YOU’RE THE EXPERT ON, X THEN, KELLY?”
I’m confused.
”I’m sorry, I didn’t say I was an expert.”
Normally, I’d leave, but I’m happy sitting where I’m sitting and he isn’t going to nudge me out of the good couch spot outside. I drink my water.
“You said you didn’t like, X.” He says.
”Well, that’s true. I don’t, someone who witnessed an abusive incident with X told me about it and I feel a certain way about X now.”
He laughs, too closely to my face.
”You play telephone and don’t like someone? You sound stupid and you aren’t stupid.”
I am so confused. “No, I spoke to a someone there who saw X. Not to a friend of a witness. Why are we talking about this like this?”
He leans in, “Fuck you. Jesus you don’t even know what you’re talking about. I know more than you. You sound so stupid right now.”