Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Rocco & Jemma

Seen waiting for the Red Line to 95th at about 8:45 a.m.

“What’s that?”

She tosses her long blonde hair behind her shoulders and holds up the paper bag. “Dunkin’ Donuts. Can’t you read?”

“I thought we were going off the grid, or whatever. No corporate shit. All-natural.”

“Well, we’re just leaving now. One more taste of evil, capitalist society for the road.” Jemma slurps her iced coffee, one side of her pursed lips grinning around the straw. “Mmm. That’s delicious.

Rocco glares at her and defiantly takes a bite of his banana. “I think you’re dressed too warm. It’s supposed to be eighty-something degrees, you know.”

“I dunno. I get cold a lot.”

“Cold? We’re biking across the country.”

“I don’t want to get sunburned, either. Look how pale I am. Look!” She shoves her daisy-white face up to Rocco’s and kisses him quick on the lips. He wipes it away with the back of his hand like a pouty toddler.

“Jemma, do you not want to go or something? Because if you’re not committed to this, you should tell me now.”

“Of course I want to go. We’ve been planning it for months. God, you’re so cranky in the morning.”

“It’s not because it’s morning!” Rocco raises his hand as if to strike her, but he thinks better of it. He tosses his banana peel in the garbage. “You do this all the time. You act like you care about all the things I care about, and then you totally disregard them. You’re such a fucking hypocrite.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Like how we bought those matching glass water bottles, and now you never use yours.”

“I lost it. And I always recycle the plastic bottles.”

“Or what about the time we were going to start growing our own food, and then you wouldn’t pitch in any money for it?”

“I realized it wasn’t going to work. Where the fuck are we supposed to grow food? We live in an apartment. And our porch isn’t going to cut it nine out of the twelve months of the year. Too cold.”

“You do this, too. You always try to make yourself reasonable and you never take responsibility for anything.”

Jemma sighs. “You know what? I’m done with this. You’re free to be an asshole and to try to save the whole world on your own. Have fun on your bike trip.” She tosses her Dunkin’ Donuts bag on the ground and grinds it in with her foot. Rocco tries and fails to control himself. After she leaves, he picks up the trash and throws it away.

The weather is beautiful! And you know what that means: cheeseburgers and sangria at Moody's tonight. So. Excited.

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