Soft Robotics, Pt. 10

“How’s your hand?”

“It’s fine. I’m still getting used to it. I didn’t feel anything so-” Genevieve stops herself realizing her callous remark.

“I’m just glad you’re all right,” smiles Omar taking a sip from his gin mimosa.

His eyes are so serene.

A cool mid-morning air blows inside the restaurant every time a new patron opens the front door. “Song Beneath The Song” by Maria Taylor is playing over the speakers and Genevieve is having brunch with Omar on Sunday a few months after her altercation at Pitchfork. The leaves are starting to change color.

Genevieve still feels awkward with her new righty. “We have to replace the whole thing,” they told her, but to her it feels a bit more crazed like a squirming snake attached to her wrist. Maybe it’s because I’m not feeling as manic these days.

“I’m starting school next week by the way,” says Omar interrupting her thoughts.

“Oh dude, that’s rad. In what again?” Genevieve grins awkwardly, the last six months of her life a broken blur followed by a deep sleep.

“No worries. Geology. I think I just want to feel a bit more useful these days. Seems like a good prospect the way the world is going. Since Evan OD’d the rest of the band kind of fell apart anyway. I was writing these jingles, but I felt like a fucking sell out,” Omar says laughing taking a bite into a big plate of hangover chilaquiles.

That’s still weird to me. I don’t even remember where I was when that happened. I was so out of my mind. Did I see him at the release party? Genevieve hesitates before raising her glass. “Onward and upward my friend.” Whiskey and orange juice isn’t that great, she thinks, swallowing.

“So, what about you?”

Genevieve’s eyebrows raise, she’s mid sip and adjusting her oversized grey X-Files sweater. “Me?”

“Sorry,” Omar laughs again. “Didn’t meant to put you on the spot.” He brushes his long-ish black hair out from his glasses.

“Well I’m a free woman so I can do anything I please,” Genevieve smirks.

“Dangerous too.”

Genevieve blushes stumbling through another drink. “Well, you’re a fool.”

“For you.” Omar finishes up his drink just as a waiter comes over.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do- Oh I’ll have the gin actually, thanks,” says Genevieve pushing the whiskey concoction aside changing the subject.

“Were you okay taking some time off?”

Genevieve purses her lips between her teeth, her new hand playing with her long side ponytail, the dye job long gone. “It was annoying to be honest. Had to cancel a lot of appearances. I like to keep busy you know? Everything was getting heavy though so it all had to stop. I was more afraid of that I guess.”

“Being back home must have been a little strange.”

“Oh definitely. My momma was not doing all right. I was like, ‘It happened to me, not you! Calm down. Jeez.’”

“We all grow up and go out on our own eventually. I remember the look on my mother’s face during the first tour.”

“Oh I think my momma would freak out even more if she knew the dives I passed out in this whole time,” chuckles Genevieve. She reaches for Omar’s hand with her right one clutching it tightly.

Just then the waiter comes back with another round.

“Anyway,” Genevieve sighs feeling bubbly. I swear it’s not just the mimosas.

“You look great Genevieve.”

“Time is short, but it’s okay to grieve a little,” Genevieve sputters.

“Are you sure??” smirks Omar rocking a little in the booth.

Genevieve throws back her new drink in one gulp feeling giddy. “You want to get outta here?”

“Uh sure! Where are we going?”

“I don’t know, but I feel lighter than air,” laughs Genevieve, rolling up her sleeves. After throwing down a wad of bills, she takes Omar’s hand again and they make a break out into the chilly autumn afternoon of Chicago, floating.

This Week’s Playlist:

  1. “You Are A Song” by Angel Olsen
  2. “Fool For Love” by Lord Huron
  3. “You Are Your Mother’s Child” by Conor Oberst
  4. “Song Beneath The Song” by Maria Taylor
  5. “Dark Eyes” by Bob Dylan
  6. “Air” by Waxahatchee
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