weakend

jonnie was invited only on a whim, and the other party goers don't necessarily like him for what he did. he still steals a glance at clara, who holds court amongst her friends and co-workers. clara's elbows rest on her spread knees, an ankle length skirt drapes down to the ground between her legs providing a back drop to the cigarette she occasionally pulls on between her long hair. she pushes out a long train of smoke, looking through the campfire at the couple arguing.

jonnie is curbed up on the uncomfortable bench--a recently liberated artifact from one of the parks, here, on the southside. next to him is some jones from her work; the only sober person at the party who is getting the full force of jonnie's humerous wealth. jonnie's trying to talk loud enough over the din so that clara can hear him; let her remember how funny he is.

clara joins in with the arguing couple. she's airing her own grievances against her current boyfriend, even though he's inside the house, unable to defend himself. tears are bubbling beneath her glasses, and she rolls her eyes up to the night sky above her as she wipes them away--the end of her cigarette comes close to her cheek.

jonnie excuses himself from his conversation, and is now leaning against the garage, now lighting a cigarette of his own. he's trying to look cool, but barely keeping his balance. clara turns a question on him, catching jonnie further off guard.

and he says something that he means, but backs-up on it saying it all doesn't really matter, it can't matter. and she takes it with a steamroller, running down whatever she wants. her co-workers and friends are set asunder, the drunkest one rushing inside to get her boyfriend.

the boyfriend comes out, a spray of rum escaping his lips as he spits out, 'who the fuck is jonnie'.

jonnie comes forward, listing this way or that. holding onto his beer in one hand, the cigarette in the other.

the first punch cracks jonnie's ribs, dropping him to his knees, his fallen beer pools in the cold, spring dirt. the second one smacks the other side, and now the boyfriend is asking, 'have you had enough?'

jonnie doesn't look at him but says, 'no, i think i need one more.'

another dull thud of fist punching through jacket, and jonnie falls onto his back, his head splashing into the beer puddle. he brings the cigarette up to his lips, wincing as he inhales, trying to think about what to do next.