The interesting thing about Gina is the fact that although I have known her for the majority of my life, there have always consistently been people in her life that I have never met or even heard of. She was one of those people that made friends wherever she went; she was very open, very friendly. She was smart, but more so in the way that one is when they are educated rather than just have learned it socially. Meaning of course, when discussing Moliere or organic chemistry, she would take over a conversation. But when we all would be sitting around a firepit taking pulls off of a bottle of Jim Beam talking about Nirvana or sexual ethics, she would disappear.

There was a fellow, a dark brooding type people called Rabbit, one I had heard of for about six years but never met. I don’t quite know the relationship between the two of them other than the fact that they had met while they enjoyed a brief stint working at a Gelato shop. But he was there, yesterday, in her room, looking at a Victoria’s Secret catalog while she was online deciding between wedding dresses.

I didn’t like him, initially. He was friendly enough but I couldn’t tell if he was for real or not. He had a leather covered flask in his jacket pocket. He had deliberate facial hair. He struck me as a writer or an artist or something, but I soon learned that he didn’t even have a job because he hustled people. He took money from people, playing poker, playing pool, doing anything that needed to get done, and doing it well apparently.

Gina laughed, and threw her hair back, like girls do. “Rabbit, you’re the funniest fucker.” She always stuttered when she swore, like she was afraid of God hearing, finding out. She was Mormon, the only thing I really detested about her. She was an awkward bird, and I didn’t know what to think of this Rabbit fellow or Gina since the new engagement altogether. Parts of me wanted to think that she was having an affair with this guy. It would make me think she was more interesting.

She gave me a list of things to do. It was great; I had this massive responsibility and there it was, in paper, a list of things to do. No nonsense. No questions. Just a list. I asked Rabbit for a swig of what he had. He held it out to me, smiling. It was Cinnamon Schnapps. I wasn’t expecting it. I almost spit it out.

“What the FUCK?!” I shouted, nearly spitting it out. “What the fuck kind of crazy person carries cinnamon schnapps on him?”

He chuckled. “Well, me, I guess. I like it more than gum anyway.”

He had a point. It was a better substitute. I handed it back to him. “Well I have to have something stronger than this to get me through this list.”

Gina turned. “I have a bottle of red in the kitchen. Go get it and help me fucking pick out a dress already.”

“Now that’s more like it.”

We didn’t use glasses, we did it like the old days. I opened it and handled the first task at hand. I helped her pick out a dress, while Rabbit stared at our asses and looked at that goddamned catalog.

A little later, his girlfriend called. She was going to come over and get to helping with the wedding shenanigans too. Evidently she was part of the puzzle, and was going to be in the wedding party. I wondered how she and Gina knew each other but I had other more important things on my mind.

“Tell her to bring wine.”

She came then, with three bottles and she didn’t want any of it so everything was good. She was a skinny blonde girl with an upturned nose, a bright magenta hoodie and light-colored jeans. She had an iced tea with her. I didn’t trust her immediately.

She sat on the other side of the room from Rabbit. They didn’t kiss or embrace or show any kind of emotion. But she talked about their wedding as well, because they had finally set a date for early in the fall. She talked about their dog, the toy variety. The air was heady with female power and expectations. I felt nauseous, but the wine made it better.

Rabbit made a joke about his girlfriend having too skinny of an ass. She didn’t seem terribly affected. I wondered about their sex.  

As the night wore on, and love and marriage were constantly discussed by the women before me, I couldn’t help but think about Drew. And James. And even Vincent. I was horrified at the idea of Vincent marrying Camille, although anything was possible and it wasn’t too farfetched of an idea presently. I was horrified about marriage in general. And here I was, doing my best to get drunk and aid two engaged parties. It was a bad scene.

Rabbit was funny. I was sort of upset that he was so entertaining. And best of all, he didn’t turn into someone else when his woman was around. He maintained his independence. He drank more than she wanted him to. He even went to buy more wine. And cinnamon schnapps, but I turned it down the second time around. He talked shit all night long, told jokes about Hummers and blowjobs. He confessed to watching Project Runway.

And as I discovered many years ago, with men and even Jane, the ones that you don’t like at first generally surprise you.

He was like me.


2 Responses to “rarebit”

  1. February 25, 2008 at 11:59 am

    Mirror, mirror, on the wall…

    You’re probably hotter, if it helps.

  2. 2 B-Town
    May 7, 2008 at 9:56 pm

    ‘Parts of me wanted to think that she was having an affair with this guy. It would make me think she was more interesting.’

    ‘She had an iced tea with her. I didn’t trust her immediately.’

    Ha! I love how you portray G. It’s so fitting with how I have perceived her: not ALL bad, just not like US.

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