Recycled Promises

Their eyes locked, it was a face-off, no one knew who would fold first, they were disgusted with each other, embarrassed to even be facing the other. It seemed as though they were trying to convince each other of something without even speaking, speaking was what started this whole mess. The heavy breathing cut the silence of the tension-filled room. They shifted in time with one another, an intimidation tactic perhaps, daring the other to speak, to break the silence. He broke first.

“Come on, man.” He turned away from the mirror. “It’s so easy.” He sauntered around avoiding his own gaze, his face turned red and he ran his hands through his hair. He groaned and his hand stretched out for a blanket to cover his own reflection, but he paused and pulled away. He would fix this, he knew he would, he had to this time. He began replaying the incident.

“Hey Derek, how are you?” He squeaked in a high-pitched imitation.

He mocked his own response, “oh, me, I’m good, real, good.” He scoffed and began pacing up and down the walls of the room. His mind raced with countless thoughts, he had to have something to say, he had plenty to think about.

I’m an interesting person, I guess, I’ve got loads to say. I’m good, real good, pfft, she probably thinks you’re an idiot now. Well, you kind of are.

He sauntered out of the room and upon his return was follow by screeching that echoed through the house as he dragged a chair across the floor and slammed it in front of the mirror.

“Okay, you can do this.” He sighed and fixated on his reflection.

“Hey Der bear, how-.” He planted his face into his hands, that was more embarrassing than most things he had said. No one calls you that, stupid, try again.

“Hey, how are you?” His face contorted and he marvelled at how ridiculous he looked sitting at his mirror talking to himself. Yup, totally normal. He rolled his eyes, grunted and continued. “I’m alright, I have been keeping pretty busy.” He swung his arms around and picked at his fingers as he spoke. “How have you been?”

He continued the conversation in verbatim, as small talk usually goes, responding to his own questions more naturally each time. He liked to think that he spoke like this normally, but a knot twisted in his stomach and he grimaced at the thought of his past conversations. He brushed it off and focused on his eyes peering back at him.

“I have actually been working on a few projects lately, I find it really good for me, so I don’t just laze around.” His shoulders rolled back and the tension in his face released. “What have you been up to?”

He kept going and slowly began a playful banter, he told jokes, he wasn’t typically the type to tell jokes, they were not all that funny, but he thought they were. He liked this version of himself, he gazed into the mirror with admiration filling his eyes, he could feel his ego growing. He challenged himself to go beyond small talk.

“What made you choose your career; did you have anything that truly inspired you?” He responded with, of course, a well-formulated and carefully thought-out explanation and shocked himself with further explaining his work.

After hours of conversing, he stunned himself by flipping his wrist into his vision and seeing the time. He spun on his heels and the chair toppled over, clothes flew around the room in his frenzy and he took off out the door, barely remembering to take the key out of the lock.

He drove with confidence, with a sense of certainty in himself that he had never felt before, he was a new man. A promise he had made to himself many times before, but this time was different. He ran his conversations, possible responses and every situation through his head for the entirety of the drive, he knew he could do this. Each turn began a new conversation, he started to run out of things to think about.

He stood in front of the doors, sighed and put his weight forward, his head clinked against the glass. These were pull doors. He rolled his eyes and swung the door open. His eyes danced around the room from table to table, searching for her auburn hair and blue eyes. His gaze bounced over a surplus of seniors and a few women who were, not very subtly, sneaking sips of wine from their purses.

He saw her at the table hiding behind the trash cans, “Jess, hey!” She waved and he sauntered over. The cool, hard, wood pressed against his back as he sat down and the aroma of the coffees, she had ordered for them filled his nose, he closed his eyes and sighed as he took it in. It reminded him of his dad, he could never separate him from his coffee cup. His breath had always reeked of espresso and he found it repulsing, but now it was a nostalgic smell, one that brought him back to quiet nights around the fire, stories, and hugs goodnight.

All things he could have said out loud, but he didn’t, it wasn’t the right moment to visit childhoods, at least not his.

“Well . . .” She paused and gazed deep into his eyes. He drew breath in but his chest was tight, he began peeling his jacket off as sweat formed above his lip. “How have you been?” She finished her question.

His breathing was heavy as his eyes darted around the room and his heart pounded on his ribs.

Is this what a panic attack feels like? He wondered.

He scoured his wreck of a mind for any type of appropriate answer. His mind went blank and his mouth opened.

“Oh, me, good, real good . . .”

And once again his face connected with his palms and he sighed in dismay.