Fry Confrontations

The seriousness of his gaze held her eyes, kept her from turning away and doing whatever it was she had been going to do. “You don’t ever talk to me.”


Frowning with incredulity drawing her brows together, she set down her half-eaten hamburger and tilted her head to one side as if studying her face. “I don’t ever talk to you? Jack, you’re always complaining that I talk too much.”


“About nothing.”


“Yeah, well… And you’re constantly badgering to leave you alone.”


His jaw clenched. “You know what I’m talking about.”


Her expression cleared. “Actually, no. I don’t.”


He stared at her again, eyes hard. Confusion and ambiguity crossed her face. Then both passed and she stared back at him with patience and transparency and calm. He slapped the table. She flinched.


“I hate it when you do that.”


“Do what?”


“Withdraw like that. You never tell me anything.”


She rolled her eyes. “I tell you lots.”


“About nothing.”


“All you want to hear about is nothing,” she shot back. “You don’t want to hear the heavy stuff. You don’t care.” She shrugged. “So I don’t tell you.”


Now he frowned. “Why do you say that?”


“You never ask. You tell me all about your self. You talk about things that interest you. You…and then when I try to tell you something you turn the subject and it becomes all about you.” She shrugged again. “So you don’t care. Fine. It used to bother me but I’ve gotten over it.” She reached for her half-eaten burger. “It’s no big.”


He stared at her while she ate, as she flatly ignored him. She was finished with her burger and was starting on her fries when he asked, “How long?”


Not looking at him, she shrugged. “Feels like always, but it probably hasn’t been that long. How long have we been friends?”


“Ten years?”


She nodded. “Then maybe the last five or six.” She looked up from her fries. “Why?”


He shrugged. She went back to her french fries.


He stole a fry. She grinned. “Hey! Thief.”


“I don’t have any fries.”


“Well next time buy some!”

-Fin-