The Cigarette Vignettes – Coffee with Marcy

Josh Blockwell’s the Cigarette Vignettes return, available every Sunday.

 

Alistair continues with his inane drawl about his days touring Egypt and I eye Marcy’s Lucky Strikes intently. She’s nodding her head to everything he says, staring at him intently as if his cheap vacation had been some epic crusade of righteousness and self discovery. I imagine Alistair atop a camel waving a scimitar at a rabble of terrified locals, silently laugh, and steal a cigarette. Alistair continues, I consider falling asleep, or throwing coffee into his lap, whichever comes first.

Marcy turns to me and asks me if I plan on going anywhere soon. I tell her I considered London, just to get away from this city for a while. She nods understandingly before Alistair chimes in with some tale about his adventure in England, she looks away. Her face is heavily made up today, for reasons that haven’t been revealed to me. Her clothes remind me of something Fiona used to wear. I put that thought out of my mind and look back at my coffee. Maybe I should have bought that guy’s grass. This exchange would certainly have seemed more interesting.

“Are you going to Eric’s party on Tuesday?” asks Marcy, talking over Alistair. She see’s that i’ve stolen one of her cigarettes, but doesn’t take issue. Such liberties are the only reason I haven’t left the coffee shop yet. I don’t understand why she tolerates Alistair. His banal chatter seems the pierce the insides of my ears like a hot knife. “I don’t know, who’s going?” I ask. She glances at Alistair, nods at a point he’s just made and lights up a Lucky Strike. “I don’t know, Eric couldn’t be bothered to tell me the guestlist, he only mentioned it in passing.” Eric does this a lot, he’s something of a flake, a likeable flake, but a flake all the same. After dining out at an Italian restaurant, he remembered that he didn’t have any money, he still owes me $75, bastard.
I panic, “Wait, have I even been invited?” She looks around and takes a drag, she seems pretty out of it this morning. “I don’t know, have you?”
“I can’t be going on a secondary invite.” I say.
“Why not? You’re no fun this morning!”
“Its just not done. I don’t want to cause a scene.” I can see it now, i’ll walk in now, Erics friends will be standing around listening to Miles Davis and sipping cheap Wine, snidely asking who I am and who invited me. I’d have to make idle conversation for about an hour and then quietly slip out the back door, or failing that, the bathroom window. Eric lives in a 17h floor apartment in Chelsea, but the quick fall to my death may be preferable to spending an awkward evening with an array of social jackals.

Alistair turns his attention to me. A cold wave of terror courses through my spine. “Tell me, when are you going to get back on the horse? You can’t stay single forever, now can you?” It surprises me how socially unaware some people are, even at my age. In other countries, people like Alistair would either be executed or sent out into the jungle to ‘prove themselves’, but in New York they seem to be lapped up by some of the most beautiful and intelligent women in the city. Maybe I should consider a life of stupidity, it seems profitable.

I take a drag on my Lucky and look at him with what I hope is an exasperated expression (I can’t be sure, sometimes I look like I’ve just sat on a thumb tack). “Not quite yet Alistair, I like to wait until all their stuff is gone from my place before I start looking again.” He looks bewildered. “Nonsense, as soon as you let one go, start the search again!” I roll my eyes.

I leave the coffee shop and get into a taxi as quickly as I can. I don’t even bother to make idle conversation with the driver, I think he appreciates the gesture. I certainly can’t provide any racist witticisms as i’m sure many of his friends are able to. The self destructive side of myself urges me to go to that party on Tuesday. Why not? Its not as if sitting down with wine and cheese and calling Kafka and Van Gogh “Over-rated” is going to kill me. Actually, it may bore me to death. I get home and fall asleep for the rest of the day. What a waste.