The Catch: When Asked to Speak I Can’t.

Yesterday, we ate and drove. Our only good idea when it wouldn’t rain. She called pet stores while speed and wind wrapped hair to our friend’s face. Their hands reached out and up as I advanced to sixth gear. We may have no reason to rush but that has nothing to do with how we may need it. At lunch, she said they are my friends. She said it is okay to talk seriously. Of course I knew this but didn’t exactly know why a square table and ceviche seemed like a great setting for an intervention. When I asked for a drink menu, she asked if I was getting sauced up. The pairing of this with their diet cokes made me embarrassed so I said maybe and then never made eye contact with the waiter again. Driving is more fulfilling than food. It’s an empty space in time to fill with consideration. Which is why the driver should be idealized as an escapist and cynic. I considered my point as I took us places I had thought about but had no reason for being in. She bought food for a kitten she hadn’t found. And my friend chose toys and decided between color choices of liter boxes, while I held a white bunny over my heart. Everyone tells me not to buy another and in the same breath acknowledges them as my favourite animal. I acknowledge that I am 65% silent but I hope that doesn’t take away from the fact that I can’t be okay with what many spend all their time speaking about. Instead of excessive commentary, I just wish someone would ask me why I might want a bunny instead of a gerbil or dog. But I guess what is said compared to what is asked doesn’t impact the living like I imagine it could. What amazes me is our opportunities. In the center of a Petco, anyone can hold a bunny and discover why they are the way they are and how they are made to love. I only had to touch her between the ears more than twice and her posture perked, devotedly. But the point is, I only had to touch. And it was like watching a body feel for the first time. I wasn’t with the bunny for twenty-minutes before I loved her. And had to drive home.