“I didn’t kill anybody.”
“Then what happened?”
My head raises slightly, my eyes turn to her . . .
“You really want to know what happened?”
“Why? So you can be the one that has the real story? Talk about it with all your friends?”
“Because I care about you. Is that so hard for you to understand? I really do care about you.”
“Not too many people have ever given a shit about me.”
“Well I give a shit. Talk to me.”
“You wanna go for a walk?”
“It’s kind of cold.”
“You’ll be alright, I have an extra sweater if you want it.”
“Ok. Get me the sweater and let’s go. Are we headed anywhere in particular?”
“Let’s go down to Triangle Park, that’s not too far away.”
The door shuts behind them, echoing up the stairway. Somebody stirs uneasy in their bed . . .
I pat each pocket of my pants and then check my jacket . . .
“Do I have my keys?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t see you pick them up.”
“Ahh, here they are. Cool.”
It’s only a few blocks to the park, she was right, it is cold. We find our way to a picnic table, the glow from a street light bounces off the snow only a few feet away from us. There’s just enough light. Or maybe too much, hard to say. I climb up and sit on the top of the table, she sits next to me, below me, on the bench.
“Look at that!” She shouts.
“Over there, that tiny little tree, somebody decorated it like a Christmas tree. That’s so cute, I wonder who did that?”
“Who knows, maybe someone didn’t have anywhere else to go for Christmas so they came here. Kinda sad if you ask me.”
“Well I think it’s romantic. Just think about it, imagine two people in love, nowhere to go on Christmas day so they come to this park and make their very own little Christmas tree. Just him, her and their little tree. That’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, if that’s what really happened. You’re version is a nice story but who knows why that tree is decorated like that. Only person who knows is the one who decorated it.”
“I don’t care. I know the story, it’s just how I imagine it. That’s what I believe, so that is what is real.”
“Oh, you know the story huh? Then why didn’t they have anywhere else to go besides here?”
“That part doesn’t matter. The only thing that’s important is that they found somewhere to be together on Christmas. Him and her . . . Christmas morning . . . together . . . with their little Christmas tree.”
“Yeah, it is pretty nice when you put it that way. I have one question though, Christmas was like two months ago, why didn’t they take the decorations off? This is a city park, that’s pretty much littering, isn’t it?”
She laughs . . .
“God, you have to ruin it don’t you. You’re such an asshole.”
I see him, standing, watching from across the street. Standing. I’ve never seen him stand before, every time, till now, he’s always been sitting. Sitting, watching . . . judging . . . knowing . . .