6/5/05

Changin’

Brad Walker

Sitting in the passenger seat of his friend’s beat-up Toyota with the windows that wouldn’t roll all the way up, George was overwhelmed by the sickeningly sweet smell of synthletic watermelon. His eyes darted around, searching for the source. Finally, on the far right side of the dashboard, his eyes landed upon a small, mesh sack of little, pink bead-like objects which he decided must be some form of potpourri and decided to stop wracking his brain over it.

His friend, Linda, who was driving, reached over and turned on the radio. George was surprised to hear the local top-40 station com on instantly. This was an unsettling difference in his friend; she, like him, had always been a diehard patron of classic rock.

“Sorry about that; my friend was in the car with me the other day and that’s the only station she’ll listen to.” Linda clarified, putting George’s mind at ease.

“So what’s new? Any exciting, new tales romances to tell me about?” She asked.

“Me? Of course not.” George replied. “I haven’t gotten any action in two years and, at the rate I’m going, it looks to be another two.”

“Aww, that sucks.”

“Yes it does.”

There was a brief silence.

“Alright, George, I have something I should tell you; and I think you’re gonna be ashamed of me.” Linda blurted out.

“I think I might already know.”

“That I’m dating Vick?”

“Yep.”

“… And that I fucked him?”

“Yep.”

“… Are you ashamed?”

“Ehh, whatever.” This wasn’t even a real answer to the question.

Vick was an acquaintance of them both. George had only met him twice, but he seamed nice enough. The problem was that he was a raging nymphomaniac, with no hope of recovery. A mutual friend of George and Linda had dated him for a while before she was made aware of how many women (and men) Vick had cheated on her with—it was this same friend that had informed George of Vick and Linda’s newly-founded relationship.

Ah, how the way things can change within such a brief period of time. When George met Linda no more than a year and a six months ago, she was a delightfully nonsexual intellectual; the thought of her in a romantic relationship with anyone would take some time to adjust to.

“Just watch yourself… and always wear a condom!” George warned. “I don’t want you to catch some crippling venereal disease from him.”

“George, you make me sound like a doormat. I’m not a doormat.” Linda reassured.

“Alright then, whatever you say…”