Crickets

"I think we should start seeing other people," said Jake.

Megan paused the movie that they were half-watching. "What?" she asked firmly.

"I think you and I should start meeting different people."

"You want a divorce? After sixteen years? Are you fucking serious?"

Jake's eyes widened with shock, but then his face relaxed, and he chuckled. "Oh, no, no! I'm sorry, honey. No, I meant our friends."

"Our friends?" said Megan, her eyebrow cocked. "What are you on about?"

"Well... I'm just going to say it. We need new friends."

"What do you mean, 'we need new friends?'"

"Exactly what I said. We need to make some different friends."

Megan shrugged. "Alright. I guess I'm open to meeting some new people."

"Great! But we also need to stop talking to the friends we have now."

She looked at him for several seconds, her face a mix of confusion and irritation. "What the hell are you talking about? What's wrong with the friends we have now?"

Jake considered. "Well, ok, first of all, they're really your friends."

Megan scoffed. "Alright. Then what is wrong with my friends?"

"They're just awful."

She gasped disgustedly. "What a terrible thing to say!"

"I'm sorry, hon," he said, shrugging. "That's just how I feel."

"Well, screw how you feel. We are not just going to drop everyone we care about."

"Why not?" There was a slight gruffness in Jake's voice which betrayed his mounting frustration.

"Do I seriously need to explain to you why we're not going to just cease talking to our friends?"

Jake hesitated, but then muttered: "Your friends..."

"Oh, shut up, Jake. I'll tell you what: you hate my friends so much, I'll tell them how you really feel. Then you won't have to talk to them ever again. How's that sound?"

Jake shrugged. "Works for me."

"Fine!" The two sat in silence for a while. No one bothered to un pause the movie, and eventually, the TV's screensaver turned on. The quiet rumbling of the AC was the only sound in the house, and it was only occasionally accented by a passing car outside. Jake wanted to say something that would cool things down, some perfect combination of words that would salvage the night, but nothing came to mind. It was the same issue he'd always had back when he wrote songs.

Megan read a magazine for several minutes and then laid it down on the coffee table. "Alright. Just what, prey tell, is so awful about our friends?"

"We're just too different. You and I are regular people, but they're all just so snobbish."

"What do you mean, 'they're snobbish?' All our friends are regular people, too."

"Yeah, but they're all always acting like they're better than me."

She crossed her arms. "Alright. Give me an example. When have any of our friends ever been snobbish to you?"

He considered for a second. "Ok, how about this? You remember that time Kristy told me to my face that my outfit was tacky?"

"That's because it was tacky! You don't wear a pink tie with a blue blazer!"

"Look, we can go back and forth all night about your ridiculous societal standards for clothes, but I was onto something with that outfit. Besides, why did it matter what I had on? It was a party! What kind of person demands that their party guests dress all proper?"

"It was a funeral, you ass!"

Jake started to say something, but then stopped, considering. "Oh, yeah... It was a funeral, wasn't it?"

"How do you not remember that?"

"It was seven years ago! You can't expect me to remember every little thing. But ok, I'll give you that one. But... but what about that time Jon was giving me shit about my car?"

"That's because you cut off the top with a saw. It looked fucking awful."

He frowned. "Well... I wanted a convertible but couldn't afford a new car. What else was I supposed to do?"

"Not ruin the car you had? How about that? Was it seriously the end of the world for you to not drive a convertible?"

"And let's not forget the worst one of all: when Justine broke up the band back in college."

Megan glared at Jake. "Is that what this is all about? You're still not over that stupid band?"

"It was not stupid! That band was all I had, and we could have been huge!"

"Jake, let me make something abundantly clear, because you still don't get it. Justine did not break up your band. She said one time that she didn't care for your music. You guys were going to stop playing at some point, and it's really immature of you to blame her."

"But did she have to say that crap right in front of us?"

"You asked her what she thought!"

"Well, if she hadn't been so dismissive, maybe we wouldn't have stopped. We could have gotten signed, you know!"

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times: no one is going to sign a band called the Wet Willies!"

"The Wet Willies could have been the next Nirvana!"

"Yeah, if Nirvana had been hit with a sledgehammer seventy-five times."

"You don't get it, Meg. After we broke up, I had no other friends. Justine ruined everything for me because she doesn't understand real music."

"Real music? Half your songs were about masturbating at work! And you have no other friends because you're a jackass."

"Just admit that your friends are jerks!"

"No! If you don't want to have friends, go right ahead, but there's no way I'm going to stop talking to them."

Jake groaned. "Alright, fine. We'll keep our friends."

Again, the conversation ceased. Jake shut off the TV, went to the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of water. As he drank, he looked out the window, and the backyard set against the blue night reminded him of the first time the band had played a backyard show. There had only been a few people there to see it, but that hadn't stopped Jake's heart from rushing and his fingers from growing cold around his guitar's neck. Even in the July heat, he had felt like he'd just gotten out of an ice bath. Excitement had clouded his mind so much that, looking back now, he couldn't remember a second of the actual performance. In the months that followed, many nights were spent talking until 4 AM about how someday, the Wet Willies would be playing stadiums and frequenting parties with the likes of Hayley Williams and Dave Grohl. They had never gotten past the backyard. Now, the only music to be heard was the incessant arrhythmia of crickets.

He headed back into the living room. "I'm going to bed," he said, defeated.

As he headed toward the stairs, Megan got up, still frowning. "You know, you're right. We should see other people."

Jake's face lit up. "Awesome!"