Inside My Head

the literary rantings of Angie Frissore

“Miles to go before I sleep…”

“I think that’s him!” I shouted.  I could hear the roar of the diesel engine as it turned down the street and into the driveway.  It was the first time I had been home to witness the arrival of the Tenant, who up until now had remained a mystery ever since he moved in three weeks prior.  “This is our chance!”

Rachel and I crouched beneath the living room window, peering out over the driveway from between the blinds, hoping to catch a glimpse of this stranger.  Trying to get the best vantage point, Rachel crawled across the living room and into the kitchen.

“Holy shit dude,” she whispered, waving me over.  “You are not going to believe this!”

“What? What do you see?”

“Coupla dogs and the new guy…” Rachel’s voice trailed off.

“Yeah? What about him?” I asked impatiently.

“He’s effin’ hot!”

I hurried into the kitchen and peered through the window above Rachel.  I could see my landlord, Chris, a rather large, goofy-looking pit bull, and a black Labrador retriever in the backyard.  Chris was talking to the Tenant, but I still couldn’t get a good look at him.

“Fuck it, let’s go,” I said, grabbing a cigarette. “We’re having a smoke.”

I made my way outside to the second floor porch, as Rachel scurried to catch up with me.  As the door slammed shut, Chris looked up from the back yard.

“What are you troublemakers up to?” Chris asked.

“Nothing good,” I said in my cutest voice.  “You?”

“Shakin’ off the day,” he responded, holding up his beer. “ Have you met Aidan yet?”

As soon as the question was asked, the Tenant emerged from beneath my porch and stood next to Chris, looking up at me with a smile.  Rachel kicked my shin in a silent, ‘I told you so’ as I took in the sight of this Aidan character, who was indeed quite good looking.

“Why no, I have not,” I said flirtatiously.  “What’s up? I’m Abby.”


Two weeks had passed since my first encounter with the Tenant, and aside from the occasional chance passing, I hadn’t done much to further our little acquaintance.  I had, however, been on a slight fact-gathering mission, having found out that he was an old high school friend of Chris’s – this led me to tread lightly, given Chris’s association with Micah.  Though I was fairly certain Micah didn’t have a whole lot to do with Chris’s friends, I couldn’t be too careful.

I sighed heavily, looking at the backpack and various Christmas gifts laid out before me.  The last thing I needed was a weekend with my parents.  I gave the bag one final inspection, zipped it up and toyed with the idea of showing up at my parents’ house stoned.  I started to think about what the night would be like if I wasn’t stoned, and was startled by a knock at the back door.

“Aidan, hey,” I said with surprise as I opened the door.  What possible reason could he have to drop by?

“Hey…can I talk to you?” he asked quietly, looking around behind him.
“Of course,” I said, nervously, letting him into the kitchen.  My mind raced, replaying every move I had made over the past three weeks, trying to figure out what this was all about.  He shut the door behind him and turned to me.

“Wanna get high?” he asked.  I stared in amazement at him, shocked at the question.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked.  “You scared the shit out of me, man! ‘Can I talk to you’….what was that all about? And yes, yes I do!”


“Roger, down!”  Aidan yelled as he attempted to wrestle the 110-pound pit bull off the couch (and off of me).  “Sorry, he likes you, and he thinks he’s a lap dog.”

He passed me a freshly packed bowl and before long, we were immersed in stoner-inspired random conversation  We talked about everything – past relationships, work life, the intermittent creepiness of our landlord – when the conversation finally settled on Micah.

“So what happened with you two?” he asked cautiously.  “I mean, I saw you guys at Greg’s wedding and you were so happy.”

“Things just…change I guess,” I said, passing him the bowl.  “I’d rather not talk about Micah really though…oh shit, what time is it?” I had totally forgotten about having to hit the road for Worcester.  I thanked him for the smoke and the invitation and headed for the door.

“So, uh, we can do this again, right?” Aidan asked with a smirk.  “What Chris doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”  Not only was Chris lovingly dubbed ‘the boy in the bubble’ due to his intolerance of smoke of any kind (the poor guy was even allergic to incense), but I’d managed to find out that in the months since Micah had left, Chris was secretly noting every move I made in an effort to keep Micah as updated as possible.

“Sure thing, neighbor,” I said with a flirty grin.  “Have a good Christmas.”


October 1, 2008 - Posted by | No Messages - Excerpts from the Draft | , ,

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