The Cigarette Vignettes – Bed with Fiona

Josh Blockwell’s Cigarette Vignettes continue with a flashback to time spent in bed with Fiona

4AM

I run my hand through Fiona’s hair as a haze of cigarette smoke covers us. The Velvet Underground and Nico plays through for the forth time and the opening strains of All Tomorrows Parties penetrates the blanket of smoke. Was this really happening?

I’m tempted to just roll over on top of her and ask her what’s going on. We only met two weeks ago and now we’re sharing a bed as if we’ve been together for years. To most guys this would be the ideal ending to their night. In contrast, I can’t help but feel insecure about the whole thing. I’m genuinely interested in Fiona, but this isn’t something that usually happens. Is it?

I knew what her answer would be if I asked her. She’d tell me that it was raining out and that staying at my place was the smartest idea. I can’t really argue with that. But in my eyes tonight has been more than that. It seems like this is routine for her, it’s far from it for me. Jesus, I haven’t gotten this introspective since I watched Bambi.

A lot of people have said that they have a plan for how they want things to work out in social situations. I completely disagree. I seem to just stumble from one situation to the next with no clear idea of what to do or how to react. Tonight seems to be living proof of that. I’m way too far out of my comfort zone, how do people deal with this sort of situation?

We talk for a while about our plans for summer. Where we want to go, what we want to see. I want to push the envelope and suggest that we do things together, but that seems a little premature. Hell, I’d like to just lean in and kiss her, but that would probably end with me apologising furiously as she storms out of my apartment. My mind races for something meaningful to say, and I end up asking her what she thinks of my place. I think she realises that I’m well out of my comfort zone here. She smiles and tells me she likes it. I get a rush of satisfaction, and I don’t know why. I take a lot of pride in my decorating. I wish I had a notepad, I could kill an hour with my analyst talking about that.

The vinyl plays a few more times before we both descend into complete silence. Both out of things to say and both far too tired to think of new conversation topics. Sunlight begins to stream through the window. I roll over and fall asleep almost instantly. The world seems clearer and more confusing at the same time.