Familiarity Breeds Contempt:
An Excerpt from "Terrible Truths and Beautiful Lies"
You think about the arguments that you wanted to have at work today. In your heart of hearts, you knew what his words meant even if he did not. Perhaps he didn't understand what it was that he was saying. But it doesn't matter now; it's all in the past. You let it run off your your back, through your shoulders and along your spine until it dripped off your coccyx to the ground.
Plip.
Plip.
Plip.
Plop.
Now, it's time to wring out that tissue and toss it aside, to forget those moments and ready yourself for the new day that is tomorrow. All it takes is a bit of preparation. All it takes is tonight. One night of distraction, to invite a right turn at Albuquerque, the random occurrence that makes you forget forever and resets your outlook anew. You won't dwell on the past; only look forward to the path that is forged by the unknown, random occurrences that this night has yet to offer.
So, you order your drink in the crowded bar, turning and leaning against the bar to sip from your tumbler. Your eyes dance over the of the heads of the patrons like a bumblebee looking for that right flower from which to sip some nectar. Then something yanks your gaze downward and your eyes lock for a second with another pair that was already staring back at you. Her eyebrows lower but her gaze is like a laser beam.
You turn away.
You smile slightly to yourself and take another sip of your spirits. You wonder if she is still looking as your eyes turn towards another part of the room but not seeing what is there. You retreat into your head for a split second, crunching on an ice cube as the cold sting of the ice hits your tongue. You whip your head around to see her gaze still locked in place, her smile both devilish and inviting. You roll your eyes in your head and smile to yourself as you hoist yourself from the edge of the bar in her direction, and make your way over. You swim through the crowd like a panther, never having to adjust your eyes. You have no plan. You have no thoughts of any outcome. You sip at your tumbler as you turn to slip through a crevice of shoulders and torsos, and you make it to your destination.
The rest is a blur, and you blink several times as you brush the hair from your eyes. You think of that night four years ago. You let out a sigh, and focus for a moment on the darkened room, the slivers of shadow and light created by the lines of neon light streaming in through the window through the shade as they strike the bed. And there she is, softly sleeping. She is unaware, and you turn over on your side and watch her sleep. You think for a moment that you would touch her because a moment of affection seeps through from the moment into your mindset, but you refrain as if it might spoil the moment like the first footstep into a fresh layer of snow. So, you watch her. Listening to her breath as it rises and falls. You smell her, her breath filtered with slight bits of ash and the deteriorating tequila from the bar earlier tonight.
And then it happens.
Your mind, uncontrollably, flips back to a random page from the novel you've been writing in your mind since you became conscious. An old man, perhaps. Perhaps it was a repeated phrase that you realized was wisdom disguised as a clever saying, a turn of the phrase, a quip: "Familiarity breeds contempt." It sticks in your mind, and your stomach twists and turns. You take a deep breath and roll over on your back, your eyes staring upward at the shadowy ceiling but not seeing. You have retreated into your mind once again, thinking to yourself. You don't want to feel this way. The last four years have been excellent, hasn't it?Yeah, it has. But you still feel it. You try to wash it out of your mind, and you roll out of bed and stroll into the kitchen. You open the refrigerator as the light strikes your face. You wince at the brightness and reach into the vessel, grabbing the carton of milk to take a gulp or two.
The pitter-patter of bare feet enter your mind, getting louder as your eyes look over the edge of the upturned carton, and your eyes fall upon her face. She squints and rubs her eyes, looking up at you as she leans against the door facing. "What're you doing up?" You take the carton from your lips and glance at your phone on the counter: 4:23 a.m. "Just getting a drink. Couldn't sleep. Go back to bed." you say. Defiantly, she affectionately saunters over to you and grabs the carton from your hand, and turns it up to her lips. She gulps at it as a droplet of the white liquid streams from the corner of her mouth and down her neck to disappear behind the lapel of one of your shorts covering her body. You can see a tiny smile stifled behind her last drink, and she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. You can still smell her, and it brings back the thoughts of when you first smelled her a few moments before. Again, you remember: familiarity breeds contempt. That twinge strikes your stomach again as she turns and heads back to the bedroom, never looking back. "Well, don't be too long." she says as her silhouette vanishes into the shadows of the flat.
Familiarity breeds contempt.
It's a phrase that repeats in your mind for the next few minutes, and a sliver of defiance creeps into your being. Clever retorts cloud your mind for a moment, bringing you back and forth to that phrase. Perhaps you are trying to tell yourself something, you think to yourself. You wonder if you need a change. You try to think of yourself in a future tense. Is she there beside you? What do you want to be doing in five years? In two years? In a month? Nothing substantial comes to mind. Your mind becomes foggy and without form. No thoughts appear, only the feeling: familiarity breeds contempt. You can still smell her in the kitchen as you turn to place the carton of milk on the shelf, realizing that you forgot to return the drink to the open fridge. You do so, closing the door behind as the light extinguishes and leaves the kitchen dark once again. You take a deep breath and follow it with a yawn. Your mind becomes blank as fatigue steps in once again, and you return to the warmth of the bedroom and tuck yourself into the warm bed beside her, your back turned to her. You close your eyes, and your attention turns the spinning ceiling fan overhead and the faint sounds of early morning traffic below on the city streets. You drift off to sleep again.
Invino Veritas
3/23/25
EOF
