The Pickled Mushroom

Slugging my way to… where, actually? | February 16, 2010

School is CRAZY. I always thought I knew what school stress is, but I’ve never, NEVER, had as much to do as I currently do. Doesn’t help much that I’m having a major case of fangirling over various Naruto characters. Deary. Please bear with me being a lazy bum, I’ll get back to writing and posting sometime.

Anyway, there’ll be another post coming up sometime on my current fangirl obsession. I might even get around to writing some fanfiction, I’ve got something planned out. Whoot! Has been aging since I’ve written any fanfiction.

I also hardly find any time to write, I can’t even remember the last time I was working on my NaNo novel. Grrr. I could’ve finished the first draft by now if I had more time, motivation and inspiration. Hear me cry. In any case, here’s another small excerpt, from Jazz’ POV. One day I’ll finish this story, really. Go past the cut to see more of the excerpt! Drama ensues ❤

For a while we simply sat without talking, but then Bas moved as if to shrug off the silence that had gathered above our table. “He’ll be okay,” he said, sounding remarkably convinced all of a sudden.
I just nodded. “I think so,” I gave back. Bas was silent for a moment longer, studying his cup intently. Eventually, he began tracing the pattern on it with his finger.
“So, um…” he began slowly. “What was that yesterday? Where were you?” He didn’t sound particularly suspicious asking this, just curious and a little apprehensive perhaps. I still couldn’t help feeling like I was on thin ice suddenly.

“At home,” I replied simply, but a bit more quiet than usual.
“Ah,” he made, still running his fingertip along the elaborate blue swirls on the porcelain. He glanced up at me briefly before looking back down again. “And, uh… That was Barb with you…?”
“Well…” I shrugged. “Yes.” There was a small, uncomfortable silence as I wished I knew what was going on in his head. It was hard to gauge if he had actually been blind and deaf enough not to notice anything, or if he had been having his suspicions and was now just waiting for a calm, simple confirmation of what he’d concluded. For a moment I wished he was easier to read in things like these, and a bit less dense concerning things like relationships. “Listen, Bas, don’t freak out about it, okay.”
He raised his hands defensively. “I’m not freaking out,” he insisted, but his voice sounded a bit higher than usual. “I just want to know what’s going on. I mean, there’s lots of explanations, you could have been having – having a coffee or something.”
There was a brief pause. “Less coffee, more something,” I said finally from behind the brim of my cup. Silence fell like a hammer had suddenly been dropped onto our table. By glancing at his wooden expression I had to face the fact that he _really_ hadn’t known, and I wasn’t sure whether to think he was an idiot for being blind and deaf, or if I was one for not having seen _he_ really hadn’t had a clue. I set my cup aside. “Look, it’s -”
“Let me get this straight,” he cut me off, putting his cup down firmly, but still holding onto it like it was a bomb. At least he was looking straight at me now. “_You_ were shagging – _my sister_?”
I didn’t like the way he put it, but eventually I nodded curtly. “That’s the gist of it.”
Expression completely dumbfounded, he let his shoulders fall back against the back rest of his chair, hands still on his cup. “Fuck,” was all he managed to get out. I wasn’t really sure what to say. He had the facts now and as much as I felt sorry for his being dense as a brick, I wasn’t going to apologize for having it for Barb. I wasn’t on enough of a testosterone trip to declare these feelings as unimportant next to his ego.
Eventually, Bas picked up his cup again and took a deep swig. He seemed to be trying very hard to come across as mature and indifferent. “For how long?” he asked, voice flat. “How long have you two been… together?”
For a second I considered if it was a good idea telling him that except for my rather botched attempt at letting her know a few weeks ago we’d only properly gotten down to talking and other things yesterday afternoon. Then I shrugged. “Not very long,” I replied simply.
He seemed to contemplate this, sipping on his coffee. “You aren’t the reason she broke up with Scott, are you?” he asked finally.
Now that was a thought I hadn’t had before, but I ditched it quickly. She wouldn’t have been this miserable about her break-up, and we’d probably have gotten to terms with each other much quicker. “No,” I protested rather vehemently. He glanced up at me, brows raised, and I shrugged. “I mean, not that I know of. She hasn’t said anything like that.”
There was another small silence as he just kept looking at me as if trying to probe into my head, then he set his cup down and, propping his elbows up on the table, put his face in his hands. “Oh, _fuck_,” he let out heartily, words slightly muffled.
I frowned. “Bas, this doesn’t have to change anything, you know,” I said.
He gave a short, hollow laugh and looked up at me again. “How does this _not_ change anything?” he asked, voice slightly raised. “You’re my best friend, and she’s my _sister_.”
I emptied my cup with a good swig, then put it down firmly. “But that’s the point,” I said, starting to get annoyed by this whole farce. “This isn’t about _you_. This is between Barb and me.”
It seemed that Bas didn’t know what to say to that, because although he looked about to make a scene for a moment, he shut up for this instant. Eventually, however, he mimicked me by emptying his cup and setting it aside, but with more noise involved. “Well,” he said, pushing his chair back to get up. “I hope you were having fun at least. Sorry I’m not.” He fumbled in his pocket and put a few coins down on the table with a sharp clack. “And I just remembered I have to go.”
I stared up at him in disbelief. “You’re acting like a little kid.”
“Oh, am I?” he spat out loudly, and I could see the first heads turning. “At least I don’t go around screwing my friends’ family members when they’re not looking!”
I wasn’t sure whether to punch him in the face right then and there or to follow him outside first. In the end I did neither and just listened to my own pulse throb sharply in my ears while my best friend grabbed his jacket and stormed outside. The whole café had gone very quiet, but I hardly noticed any of their stupid faces as I glanced down at the money – way too much of it – that Bas had slammed onto the table, just to make a mental note of how much I owed him.
Then I got up, put on my jacket slowly because my fingers were feeling a little numb, and stepped outside into the rain.

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2 Comments »

  1. Bist du G8? Dann herzliches Beileid… Mach dir nicht zu viel Stress und entspann dich ab und zu mal.
    Ich freue mich weiterhin über jeden Post von dir.

    Comment by hedgefairy — February 21, 2010 @ 11:12 pm

  2. mag mehr davon lesen =D

    Comment by liahkatharina — March 18, 2010 @ 10:02 pm


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