There was an emptiness in her eyes that had grown endearing. Angie sat beside me on the dock, looking at me as I tried to pull myself out of my head. The night was cool, and the water lapping against the shore had a tendency to lull me further into myself.
"What are you thinking?" She asked quietly, as though any sound on such a quiet night would be an intolerable din. I had always hated that question; the moment it was asked was a guarantee that whatever I was thinking would immediately flee into the void that we both now stared out into.
"The moon looks amazing reflecting off the waves," I said, trying to steer the conversation away from myself. Still, she didn’t seem particularly satisfied with my reply.
"You were in there, somewhere, again." She whispered into the breeze that rolled across our skin, and I almost shivered as goosebumps crawled up my arms for a moment.
"And what are you thinking?" I replied, trying to make her understand how it feels to be put on the spot, but somehow I knew it wouldn’t really work.
"I was thinking that you weren’t really here; you rarely are anymore. This is a perfect night, and you can’t even bring yourself to be present to it, here, with me."
I took her hand gently, but she pulled it away and placed it in her lap. And I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say anymore. I took out another cigarette and lit it, ignoring her sigh and I blew the smoke up so as not to blow back into her face, which was never particularly effective, but it still gave the impression that I’m not a completely inconsiderate asshole. And as I drew another breath of filtered poison, I wished I knew what to say in times like this.
"I need another drink," I said as I stood up. "Do you need me to get you anything?"
"I’m fine," she said shortly as I made my way to the sliding glass door of the cabin, setting my cigarette on the concrete pad before opening it and stepping inside. I was surprised that it was still empty; the rest of the group had been gone for a while. I filled a fresh glass from the keg and took a few swigs from the bottle of whisky sitting on top of the small, makeshift bar.
I opened the glass door, picked up my cigarette, and made my way back to the dock and sat back down beside Angie again.
"What’s been your deal this weekend?" She asked the moment I sat down. "You were fun Thursday when I first arrived back here."
"I know, "I said after a few moments' pause, unsure how to explain or answer. This wasn’t home for either of us, but I’m afraid that she doesn’t fully realize that. As I felt the whiskey creep up into my brain, I gently rocked myself side to side until I bumped my shoulder up against hers as I looked at her with a grin. She turned to me and forced a grin onto her face as well, as I caught a quick reflection of the moon lighting up her eyes for almost a moment, and I got a glimpse of who she once was, but it was gone again barely before I could register it.
The narcissist in me felt a fraction of guilt in what I imagined I had done to her over the last year. But I knew I had given myself too much credit. And I found myself, once again, wishing that I could find something that meant… well, anything. It was hard to determine what was real in anyone I interacted with.
A pontoon slowly made its way across the dark water, the quiet laughter of the vessel’s occupants barely reaching our ears as it drew closer, a sound that often caused me to pull further back into myself. A squeal broke the quiet, followed by a splash and then a chorus of laughter.
We sat in silence as we listened to the revelry happening out in front of us, as I quickly finished my beer and flicked out my cigarette.
"I think I’m ready for another one, you need anything?"
"No," she said, once again.
"This was supposed to be a fun weekend," I said, hesitating to get up and leave her like this again.
"It was until you got too drunk last night," she said accusingly. Like I was the only one, and anyway, she was the one who made a scene.
I heard conversations inside the cabin behind me, indicating that the group had finally returned from their food, wine, and spirit run, and I felt saved from the awkward situation.
"Sounds like they’re back, let’s go help with dinner," I said as I stood up and offered my hand. After a long moment of staring out at the water, she took it, and as I helped her up, she embraced me in a long hug.
No, I knew she wasn’t home. Still, there was something to be cherished in her blonde curly hair, and in her empty eyes.
"Hey!" John shouted as we walked into the cabin as everyone was unpacking, prepping meats, and pouring drinks. "We got you scotch, it's around here somewhere!" He said cheerily, pouring himself a rum and coke. "We got Angie the wine she wanted."
"Actually, I'm just going to go to bed," Angie said to me, barely loud enough for anyone else to hear her.
"What the hell is her deal this weekend?" Kyle asked as I rummaged through the bounty for my bottle of scotch.
"I don't fucking know," I said as I pulled the seal off the bottle and poured out the scotch into a Solo cup. Not sure how she’s going to sleep through the fireworks, but I doubt she’ll be sleeping, anyway.
As the drinks drained, and the food came off the grill, and conversations ran lively and long into the night, my memory left me.