After sitting through watching movies at Claudio's into the wee hours of the morning, I think 2 in the morning is considered 'wee hours', me and David got on our bikes and headed home.
It was quiet. Of course. Most people were asleep. Streets tend to exist in silence when we're not busy stomping, spitting, driving, and running on them. It was also warm. Naturally. It was July. I expect it to be so. Unlike January which can be unfairly and brutally cold.
As we rode along barely speaking, I heard the gentle, almost hypnotic sway of trees that blessed our suburban residential neighbourspot. You call it a neighborhood, but I choose neighborspot.
We were just too tired to talk.
We were approaching Ronnie's house.
I was thinking of her all night. Who am I kidding? She was permanently tattooed in my mind.
And now another day was coming to a close - well, technically it was a new day - without seeing her. My heart always stopped passing by her house. It's about all I had really. I was in love with her and she was in love with me but we weren't dating for some reason.
Or maybe we were and I just didn't realize it.
I could be slow that way.
As we approached her house, the deafening peacefulness of our ride was interrupted by the sound of a 'blump' and then shattering glass and then witnessed a car speed down Nick's street. Our friend Nicky wisely left much earlier in the night. By the time we reached her house her father was already in the streets in his sleep attire looking around angrily at something. Ronnie was not far behind.
I melted when I saw her. She was in a long t-shirt and was tying her hair up in a pony tail half tired.
But I saw the twinkle in her eye as she walked straight to me and began gently holding the handle bars. This shared moment of sheer, genuine adoration was soon shattered.
When her father, completely oblivious of the fireworks between me and Ronnie, spotted us he shouted, 'you wait here. I'm calling the police!'
Despite David's stupid looking smirk of disbelief that had me cracking up, we obeyed not by his command but because we were confused. We didn't even realize he was accusing us of a crime. We looked around and saw that someone had thrown a rock through the window of his car.
'Oh, pa' Ronnie said. 'They're alright. I go to school with them' as she continued to play with the handles on the bike while looking into me.
This immediately settled her father down.
As the grogginess slowly wore off, our Magnum P.I. senses were coming to us and we realized that was the sound we heard and we quickly realized the culprit or culprits was or were likely in the car that screeched past us.
We relayed this information to the father who asked if remember anything from the make of the car and for a description of who was driving it. Unfortunately, it happened so fast we were not able to provide any meaningful information.
Soon after we left. Within seconds David asked, 'what just happened?'
I replied, reflecting on Ronnie and the handle bars, 'I don't know.'
It was quiet. Of course. Most people were asleep. Streets tend to exist in silence when we're not busy stomping, spitting, driving, and running on them. It was also warm. Naturally. It was July. I expect it to be so. Unlike January which can be unfairly and brutally cold.
As we rode along barely speaking, I heard the gentle, almost hypnotic sway of trees that blessed our suburban residential neighbourspot. You call it a neighborhood, but I choose neighborspot.
We were just too tired to talk.
We were approaching Ronnie's house.
I was thinking of her all night. Who am I kidding? She was permanently tattooed in my mind.
And now another day was coming to a close - well, technically it was a new day - without seeing her. My heart always stopped passing by her house. It's about all I had really. I was in love with her and she was in love with me but we weren't dating for some reason.
Or maybe we were and I just didn't realize it.
I could be slow that way.
As we approached her house, the deafening peacefulness of our ride was interrupted by the sound of a 'blump' and then shattering glass and then witnessed a car speed down Nick's street. Our friend Nicky wisely left much earlier in the night. By the time we reached her house her father was already in the streets in his sleep attire looking around angrily at something. Ronnie was not far behind.
I melted when I saw her. She was in a long t-shirt and was tying her hair up in a pony tail half tired.
But I saw the twinkle in her eye as she walked straight to me and began gently holding the handle bars. This shared moment of sheer, genuine adoration was soon shattered.
When her father, completely oblivious of the fireworks between me and Ronnie, spotted us he shouted, 'you wait here. I'm calling the police!'
Despite David's stupid looking smirk of disbelief that had me cracking up, we obeyed not by his command but because we were confused. We didn't even realize he was accusing us of a crime. We looked around and saw that someone had thrown a rock through the window of his car.
'Oh, pa' Ronnie said. 'They're alright. I go to school with them' as she continued to play with the handles on the bike while looking into me.
This immediately settled her father down.
As the grogginess slowly wore off, our Magnum P.I. senses were coming to us and we realized that was the sound we heard and we quickly realized the culprit or culprits was or were likely in the car that screeched past us.
We relayed this information to the father who asked if remember anything from the make of the car and for a description of who was driving it. Unfortunately, it happened so fast we were not able to provide any meaningful information.
Soon after we left. Within seconds David asked, 'what just happened?'
I replied, reflecting on Ronnie and the handle bars, 'I don't know.'
