I called up my friend Keller this Saturday looking to have a kiki. Ceci and I are still sharing our apartment, but have worked out a schedule in which only one of us is ever there. We tried other ways around this at first, including taking turns sleeping on the couch in the living room, but it didn’t work out, especially when she kept coming home so late and so drunk. Saturday night was her night, so I had to find someone to crash with.
I miss so many things about Ceci. I know I’m supposed to. But things like Saturday morning, less than 24 hours after the Terence Crutcher murder, I knew I needed a break from this world.
If you go on Instagram a lot and know about the models and the personalities, chances are you’ve seen Ceci by now. She’s become so “Instagram Famous,” which is their term, not mine, that she needs to say public service announcements through her page. Saturday morning, she posted how sad and heart broken she was about everything happening in the world and that her love pours out to all the victims of excessive police force. The picture that was posted with her message was of her looking off of the Brooklyn Bridge into the melodramatic purple and deep orange clouds of a sunset from three weeks ago. Remember, during that heat wave? We were between breakups and she was so excited to show me the picture and how it looked before and after Photoshop and filters. She said she would be saving this one for “a serious post,” because it “captures the introspective look that I’ve been trying to perfect.”
Saturday morning and there I was, alone in our bed, looking at her post. I needed to get away.
By the time I arrived at Keller’s Saturday afternoon, she was distraught with her own set of news stories. Meek Mill versus The Game with Sean Kingston chiming in, even though she never really got into his “cookie cutter bullshit, he could still put out a tune.” On top of that was Kid Cudi versus Kanye and Drake and no matter what anyone said, she insisted on using the hashtag #imwithcudi.
Keller was very excited to take me out and get my mind off of everything going on, even though I’m fairly certain she’s never had a grasp on those sorts of things. The most info she had about politics was the newest week's think piece about Jimmy Fallon and Donald Trump and how devise that interview was.
Through her agency, we got tickets to a super expensive club and we had table service in the back. After a lot of drinks and a lot of creeps trying to join our table, Keller began freaking when the two dudes from The Chainsmokers saddled up to us. One of them, the white one, gave me a generic “how’s it going?” and before I could respond, the whiter one leaned in and asked “do you know who we are?”
They were, if you were their defense attorney, a perfect level of drunk. Confident, but not sloppy, but also clearly wasted with tons of plausibility that anything they say or do wouldn't really be admissible.
They got us another bottle of something I’d never heard of but had a lot of sparklers on it and the white one leaned in and asked me why I seemed so sad. Not in a genuine way, but in a frat-boy-with-wrong-intentions kind of way, like he’d be the answer to whatever sadness I told him about. I mentioned Terence Crutcher and he immediately started laughing. Before I could be too offended, he told me that “Jay Cutler has nothing to worry about,” and that “Romo’s the real fag!”
After about a half an hour, the white one leaned in and tried to kiss me. I turned away, apologized and told him “I’m not into guys.” He laughed, nodded, and said “me neither,” before trying to kiss me again.
Eventually, Keller and I grew old of their company. I don’t remember how, but they eventually left us alone. I think Keller threw some ice cubes at one of them and the other made a joke about getting his white t-shirt wetter and then scampering away. It felt a lot like when you spray water at a cat to get them off the counter.
The rest of the night went without memories and I know I didn’t call or text Ceci because I checked my phone the next morning. However, I did find a note I’d written to myself, saying:
Got lost on way back from bathroom, found secret door, saw THE Chainsmoker white dudes banging each other! Technique not great, bravo on vigor. Wish she was here to laugh with me.
The next morning, I stalked them out on social media to see if they posted anything about Terence Crutcher or anything in the world right now. Not that I think they need to or should be obligated to the way Ceci does, but it was worth a look.
It’s all worth a look.