Main Street Magazine Spring 2021

Amber passed her bottle of suds to Kurt. He took a sip and
swished it back and forth like mouthwash. It tasted better
than it should have. He passed the bottle back to Amber,
wary of hogging man’s most prized possession––the last
beer.
“There’s only one beer left. Rappers screaming all in our
ears like we’re deaf,” Kurt rapped.
“What?” Amber said.
“It’s a song. ‘One Beer,’ it’s called. ‘How’s there only one
left, the pack come in six? What ever happened to two and
three? A herb tried to slide with four and five and got caught
like what you doin’ g?’, it goes.”
“You’re always doing that,” Amber said, rolling her eyes.
“Doing what?
“Rapping.”
“Yeah, I guess I am,” Kurt said, laughing slightly.
Amber took another sip of beer, her legs crisscrossed, her
mind at relative ease.
“How’s Brittany?” Amber asked
“A royal pain in my ass,” Kurt said.
“Why didn’t she come out tonight?”
“I didn’t invite her.”
A
fter three or four beers, a couple shots of
cheap vodka, and a few drags from a joint,
Kurt and Amber were properly buzzed. They
stepped outside to have a smoke and grab
a beer from the cooler as their friends partied on, the
apartment door pulsating to the tune of R&B. The air
was warm and the sleeves of Kurt’s army-green t-shirt
hugged his arms gently. Amber’s black sweatshirt
was baggy, half unzipped, and as comfortable
as the patch of grass they chose to
sit upon. The stars gleamed back
at Kurt, too pretty to ignore. His
lighter sparked to life and he
took a deep pull from a Marlboro,
inhaling thoughtfully.
“Some night, eh?” Kurt said.
“You really need to quit those
things,” Amber retorted.
“I will. I leave for Basic in two
weeks. One way or another I’ll
get clean.”
“You won’t be able to run for very
long.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He took another drag and tossed the
cigarette aside, mostly unsmoked, its
ember skittering on the pavement.
“Can I get a sip of that?”
“Have at it.”
Kurt patted the pack of smokes in his pocket, thought about
lighting up another, then decided against it.
“You think she’ll miss you when you’re gone?” Amber asked.
“For a little while, maybe. She’s making a big deal of it,
throwing a party and all, but she seems a little too eager to
celebrate, in my opinion,” Kurt said.
“I thought you two were good together,” Amber said.
“We are, but maybe we’re a little too good together. After a
while relationships just get...comfortable. You both accept
it for what it is and it feels like there’s no more surprise, no
more magic. It’s like driving home in the dark. You can’t
see for shit, but you know the road so well you don’t need
to look at the signs. You know exactly where you’re going,
exactly when you’ll get there. It’s too easygoing.”
“Yeah, but you never know when a drunk driver might sideswipe
your car and send you fishtailing. Nothing’s that
easy,” Amber said.
“Some things are,” Kurt said.
Kurt settled down, laid his head on the grass, decided on
another smoke. He lit it silently, the smell of tobacco filling
the air.
“Can I hit that?” Amber asked.
“They’re bad for you,” Kurt said.
“I know, but sometimes I like them when I’m drunk. They
make my head go whoa for a second. It’s fun.”
“Have at it, then.”
Kurt passed the cigarette to Amber. She held it awkwardly,
with two hands, and took a short pull. Her eyes watered
and she coughed up a cloud of smoke. Then she gathered
herself and took a deeper drag, pulling the smoke deep into
her lungs, exhaling like a pro. She passed the cigarette
19