Fiction: Melon
July 6, 2002“Now let’s get something straight. Right here. Right now. You know? Square it off just you and me. I’m not in the business of making friends here. Never have. Never will. It’s no use to me.
“I don’t have anything I can’t walk away from in ten seconds flat if I had to. No. I don’t need all those externals. Not like you.
“You know, it’s not that I’ve never had a friend—that’s not what I’m saying to you. One time, one time I had a friend. He was a good guy. Always liked him. But it didn’t work out between me and him. You know how that goes?
“His name was Pabst I think. It’s been so long you know? A real shit head sort of guy he was. Always scheming one way or another. Always looking to get by. And if somebody got fucked in the process, well, that’s the cost of doing business.
“He was one of those real skinny kids too, you know? The kind that don’t look right in any circumstance. And he had this big head on that little stick body of his. Looked like a big melon if you ask me.
“It was all that…and he had something in his eye. Something that just didn’t sit right with me. That eye of his spoke to me. It told me that guy was up to something no good.
“So anyway, me and Melon tolerated each other. It was kind of a necessary thing between the two of us. I don’t know. He was alright I guess.
“But the point here is that me and him, we never got along. And really, that’s a story for another time. What I’m trying to talk about is me and you. Me and you. We’re not going to work out, you know? I keep telling you I don’t do the whole friend thing. Not my style. No hard feelings.
“You know, maybe one night you get lonely, your boyfriend don’t call, you know, maybe you pick up the phone and tell me about it. That I can do. That I’d do for you. I’d take you for some coffee or something. You know? A slice and a cherry coke.
“But I can’t do more than that. I just can’t. You see how things got to be?”
She hesitated. “Sure, whatever.” She didn’t bite.
“That’s all you got to say to me? Here I am spilling my heart out to you—thought this was going to be a dialog between me and you. You know? Figure out what’s what!”
For a moment there were no eyes. “What do you want me to say?” she sniffled. “Jesus Christ Bendrix. I really like you. I really do. I thought we had something here. I thought you were different. And now what? You call me up—act like I’m nothing. Last night was nothing to you? Huh tough guy? Does it make you feel like a big tough guy? Calling me here and giving me some bullshit reason you don’t want to be with me? Huh? Was I just a good fuck to you?”
The eyes, they began to well.
As angry as she was, as bad a guy I was right then and there, I knew she was the one. My soul mate if you want to call it that.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey, look, look. Look what you’re saying. Calm down. Come on now,” I said. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like you. You’re a great girl, you know? I’m serious. But I know how these things go. I’ve been here before.”
“You’ve been where before?” she choked.
“You know girl. First every thing’s tremendous. Just fucking tremendous.” She still didn’t bite. I was being a little too gonzo and she wasn’t having any. “Then things get a little normal. A little boring.”
“Great. Just fucking great,” she cried, eye make-up smeared on her cheeks. She tried to slide away but I grabbed her arm.
“Look babe,” I said, feeling foolish. “Sit down babe. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t made what I said. I don’t know. Sometimes I get these crazy ideas in my head. And then, you know, it’s like the mouth moves before the brain thinks. You know what I’m saying? I didn’t mean it. I swear. I swear to god I didn’t mean what I said.”
“You’re a real asshole. You know that?” She smeared the moist from her nose. I twisted so that I could reach her hair. I touched her ear.
“I know. I know. I know. I don’t know what I was saying. Fuck!” It was top heavy, I know, but I rested my head on her hands anyway. I was playing to her mother-like parts and going for the role of the poor misguided bastard. But I did feel bad. I did.
“Oh god, oh sweet god will you ever forgive me girl?” It was more than top heavy.
She just stared at me. Stiletto eyes carving their way to forgiveness in my chest. She moved slowly like she was reassuring a voice in her head.
“Come on,” I nibbled, rubbing the inside of her elbow. “I need a smoke.”
We went outside and began walking in the general direction of her apartment. She didn’t say much. I figured she wouldn’t. She was thinking, just thinking. You know? In heated deliberations with her head voice. I figure she was considering her options: whether to kill me, cut my cojones off and toss them in the street, or whether to ask me up to her place for the night. I didn’t care one way of the other. Just as long as she didn’t cry anymore. I couldn’t take much more of that.
We walked like that, arm in arm for a few blocks. The silence was just starting to get to me when she said: “So what about that melon kid? What happened to the Melon?”
Oh my! She was a great girl. I should have dropped down right then and there. Right to my knees and asked her to marry me. I would have, in fact, if I hadn’t been wearing my lucky pants. I don’t like getting dirt on the knees, and all—putting a hole in them. But I swear I would have done it in any other pair. Oh my!
“You really want the story?”
“Yeah. Yeah? I want you to tell it.”
“OK. But first you got to know that I know this is a tough situation, what, with me being all asshole to you and all. But I want you to know that I really like you. I really do.” She didn’t say anything. We just kept walking, her arm in mine. Cuddled for warmth.
“OK, so this guy Melon, me and him became friends over a hash pipe. That’s another story all together, but basically all you got to know is that we enjoyed the same hobby. We were similar in that way.
“Except he was more into the stuff than me. I dabbled, you know what I mean? He was a junkie. He was also a wino, and that was another hobby he and I shared. Not that I couldn’t find anyone else to share a beverage with. You know?
“Anyway, him and me were in the same school. That place down on Gymnasium Strasse. It’s by the Julius Meinel? Anyway, him and me shared classes.
“So Melon and me started hanging out more and more. We went downtown most Friday’s. We had a lot in common. More than most.
“We did a lot together. We began to get involved in each others personal life. We’d talk about pretty, pretty girls, one-night stands and all that sort of business. You know, guy talk mostly. In any case, after several weeks of these Melon shenanigans, he revealed the identity of his deepest love interest. The only problem was that she was also the lady I had an eye on. My ‘lady friend in waiting’ so to speak. This was high school shit mainly, little kid shit, but you know? I had expectations.
“This sort of caused some problems between the Melon and me. From that point, everything was a game. We were on the baseball team, so we wagered over who would place and who would ride the bench. I sat bench. In newspaper class there was a row between him and me about who was going to be the editor, and who was going to be the staff writer. I got the student-government beat. You know, come college admission time, it was about who going to be heading to a better school. He went to Tulane, and me, of course, I went to work cleaning windows.
“So as you see here, Melon and I weren’t friendly much anymore. All this, and then there was that girl Anne I was telling you about.
“Man, it was tremendous. I made her laugh and laugh. We’d play those little tickle games and she came to me when she was happy and sad. You know, she was the type of girl that spilled the deepest part of her soul to me the first time I opened my mouth to her. Only thing Melon could do was sit at the bar and watch us get on like two long-time lovers, you know?
“Take the rest, I don’t need none of it. I got this beauty and I got all the time in the world to spend with her.
“That’s when Melon started dating her. That was a little rough. Probably more than I’d like to admit, but you know, I was the dumb guy that never asked her out. But we were high school kids, you know? I still went out with the girl occasionally, but of course that cantaloupe head was always there tagging along. Didn’t trust her with me, and I don’t blame him. I had one thing on my mind, and it wasn’t making friendly like talk.
“I still made her laugh. She’d be giggling. ‘Feeling like a schoolgirl,’ she said. Melon sat there watching and getting stoned. Frequently taking bathroom breaks. In the end though, he still got the girl.
“Ah! I hated that guy. I truly did. We went our separate ways—didn’t really pay much attention to each other after that. Rightly so I suppose. If him and me were around each other too much longer, one of us would have been walking around with a face cut.”
She paused at the street corner. “That’s the story?”
“Hey, It gets better,” I said. “Don’t rush me.
“Anyway, a few months later while I was in the Cod with this other guy I know, I overheard this conversation between two college bound beauties. They were laughing about some kid they heard about who’s head looked like a Melon. Melon was back!
“So I turned to the girls and asked them about it. Turns out, and I know this is going to make me look like a petty guy gloating and all, but you know? I get little pleasure in this life. Turns out that Melon and this girl decide to get naked at her parent’s place. Now, normally something like that would send me through the roof considering the previous interest in the lady. It hadn’t been that long since I saw them last.
“But see, apparently this hot shot guy, we’ll it gets down to the moment, you know, and they’re on the living room couch, you know, sweating it up, and let’s just say that things didn’t work right for him.”
“Didn’t work right?” She said. I had her now. “You mean like—”
“Like he couldn’t get it up.”
“Wow.”
“You telling me? That’s it! Mr Melon: I win all the time every time had got to be lying there thinking he’s the biggest looser not getting it up! Little Melon didn’t work!
“I mean, we were kids right? Eighteen, 19, riding in a bumpy car would make you get it up.” She giggled a little. “I know. I know! I mean there’s nothing worse than that. But there’s more.”
“More?”
“More. Seems he was having trouble explaining himself so he ran off to the bathroom to go cry in his soup or something. Seems he walked in on her father reading the paper if you know what I mean. So there that guy was, no pants, no dick, and he’s facing the girl’s father right in the face.
“That’s when he got it up!”
She just looked at me embarrassed for everyone that heard as they walked by. We were standing in front of her apartment and it was drizzling.
“How’s that for vindication for a guy like me? He got it all, you know, but I still got my humility! I still got that baby.”
“Yeah, you still got that Bendrix.”
“So you want to uh, you know, go upstairs?” I prodded.
“Goodnight Bendrix.” She kissed my cheek and started up the steps.
Oh, I was in good. A rat bastard I’ll admit, but I sure was a sweet talker. As bad as it got, I could always win the heart back with some story or other. I have stories, I’m telling you.
I asked, coyly: “Can I call you?”
She paused.
“No. Don’t ever call me.” She turned and walked into the building, leaving me alone on the street.