Mari

Mari was my pal. She was the wildest gal I’d ever known, and in fact wilder than most of us guys. She was a punk with the cropped multi colored hair and boots to prove it. We went to shows together or stomped around town late at night looking for ways to get in trouble. I would complain to her about my girl troubles, never thinking that she might not want to hear it. To me Mari was one of the guys.

“Why do always chase these buffy girls anyway?” She asked downing the last of her 40 ounces of malt liquor. We were sitting by the river pondering our love lives, maybe just pondering mine.

“What are you talking about? They’re not buffy.” I didn’t think they were buffy. They weren’t mall chicks? Just the fact that they’d talk to me at all proved that. I wasn’t exactly the big man on campus.

“They’re SO buffy. Stupid skinny, giggly bitches, all clothes and make up.”

“Well who would you suggest I pursue instead?” I really was clueless.

“My god you’re clueless.” As she said it, the clue hit at last. I realized just how inseparable we’d been since I’d moved downtown. But I couldn’t think of Mari that way. It’s not that she was masculine, she wasn’t, and neither was I actually. She just didn’t strike me as a girl. She tried to kiss me.

“I’m sorry Mari, I just, I don’t think of you that way. You’re one of my best friends, and I love you, but, you know, we’re just…”

“You’re an asshole.”

“What? I’m an asshole because I just want to be friends?”

“No, you’re an asshole because you’re an asshole.” She punched me on the shoulder hard and got up and left. I was caught off guard and I just let her go. She didn’t hang out with me for the next few days, which isn’t to say she wasn’t around. She was hanging around with Christian, or Ryan and not passing a single opportunity to hurl an insult my way.

“Lover’s spat, eh?” Christian asked.

“We’re just friends, if even that.” I told him.

“Yeah, okay.”

Had I been that obtuse? I had been spending nearly every waking second with her. How had everyone around us noticed that she liked me while I just assumed I had a great new buddy.

I finally got sick of her insults and headed to her house to work things out. Mari was assertive. We sat on the floor of her room, on top of the American flag that served as her bed. She seemed to think that she could change my mind if she could just get me to kiss her. She pushed her lips against mine again and again. She did have awfully soft lips, and her aggressiveness was sexy. But she was Mari.

I kissed her back and it was lovely, but I still knew that she was only my friend and nothing more, regardless of what we did on top of her American Flag. I didn’t know why, just that it was so. Part of it may have been that Mari was part of my scene. I was looking for new worlds. I was ready to move beyond my scene. I was bored with drinking and talking about art that never actually got done and being punk.

We were kissing hot and heavy now. Mari pulled down my zipper and slid her hand into my pants. She pushed me onto my back and gave me head on Old Glory. She was very good at it. I didn’t look at her. It’s not that she wasn’t attractive, but I didn’t want it to be her. Mabye I wanted it to be one of my buffy girls.

She curled up next to me and put her head on my chest. “I love you.”

I didn’t say it back. I did love her, but I knew that’s not what she was saying, not all of it.

“Get the fuck out of her you fucking asshole!” She yelled, punching and kicking me. She was crying.

“Mari, I’m sorry.” I told her as I blocked her attack and made for the door.

“Fuck You!”

I didn’t see Mari for a few more days. Days were longer back then. We ran into each other at shows and she’d call me an asshole and she’d tell other people that I was an asshole. Even when we started to hang around with each other again she’d make it clear that she still thought that I was an asshole, and things were never quite the same.

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