James worked a hundred hours. Seven days a week. He laughed honestly.
“Who had I pissed off, oh boy,” a half-hearted hyperbole, as he touched both worlds in all earnest. A community liaison as an officer and a filial son following the family restaurant business.
“It’s a boy’s club, they got out there. Come by any day, at four; seriously, they only got Jeanie to wait on them since she’s prettiest,”
-- at this, the party had no choice but to laugh. Had remaining true to oneself been a laughing matter?
yall r back n forth im just chilling
dork
The conversation over video games seesawed, like an argument but the thoughts felt frictionless. Games linked the three, with a digital chain, from different states and status. Uncertain but passionate, Laroche explained himself with a laugh.
“The worst part is: when they ask, ‘Uh, why did our healers die?’ Like, are you joking?”
At this, Rin couldn’t help but laugh, a grin playing on Laroche’s face at the sound. Roque’s muted keyboard clicks could be heard, as bits and pieces of his game escaped, caught by his microphone.
“There’s a guy in this game, whose name is Z A T. I got it confused with mine, like is this a glitch?”
Laroche mulled things over, listening to Rin complain about a rapper’s latest project and Roque exclaiming about the inconsistency of his aim. The banter brought him back to the restaurant. James’ woeful tale of hard work stuck fast.
“Dude got no backbone, instilling children.”
“So y’all hate him?”
“I made him feel like shit, I hope.”
The opinions of others always hit harder for Laroche. A black swan amongst honking geese, he sought companions before anything else. He grew weary of solitude, so he buried his ambitions anywhere he could find someone’s help. The exams he let surprise him and separation from those he thought he knew and loved, games helped him escape. Where he met judgement, he would spread his dark wings and alight. Thinking of everyone he ever admired, Laroche knew he could not run from time; he could laugh again, once he quit the running business.
“You don’t have to apologize! You have to believe in yourself, your team and it’ll be fine! You can’t keep bashing yourself; you won't win with that attitude, and we are winning!”
“Okay,” came the response.
You raise your voice as emotions, boiling water bubbles and steam creeps up. Maybe you’re known in your circle for blowing up the spot or colorful language describing dog droppings. Perhaps, you scold, yelling ‘idiot’, as if you employ henchmen incapable of crime, but you only call yourself out.
His voice rose out of an urge to hustle and motivate. After all, insults and jeers will only stew contempt. How well does ‘dogshit’ illustrate any point other than scat?
“I believe in you,” Laroche sighed to a teammate, aliased ‘cake batter’.
“But I gotta take a break. I can’t play with you, until you believe in you.”
He felt hard on the kid when he signed off the first person shooter. While sinking in the cracked leather seat, one thought comes to mind. People teach you more about yourself, than about themselves, maybe. Laroche let out a slight harumph, laughing at how he’d taken his own aims lightly, ignoring his own words.
Laroche flares up when pressured, an appetency following his ability to take off. His heat rises only as a last resort, a final defense to face stressors that persist.
“And, you can all not thank me. Then, I can snap without recourse. You can miss the point, sure, worry about personal face!”
Facetious encouragement oozed out, miasma shifting the words’ tone to a song of sass.
“I don’t bug you to be annoying and rude. I just thought we were close enough to make fun of each other.”
He misses this, as she opens up to him, hot thoughts fly.
“And I thought I was close enough to tell you when to cool it.”
“You can. Definitely!”
“If we’re so distant I can’t say ‘relax’ every now and then, at moments when I’d like it to relax...”
“And I’m fully trying to review, ‘when did I make a mistake,’ so I can reflect.”
“Just acknowledge it. You’re perfect in every way, very sweet and kind. Funny and charming.”
Light it up, Laroche’s words.
“That sarcasm isn’t cool.”
“Prove it is sarcasm!”
“I’m flawed and I just want to know how to fix it.”
“I told you to relax, not that you were flawed.”
They’ll never forget how you made them feel. ‘Instilling children’ meant he had no backbone? Laroche found Drew’s criticism misused words - extending and off, stretching - a long reach. He scoffed at the thought a blowhard wanted a position other than the bleachers. Laroche respected youth and their passion. Hell, they were all young for that matter. Did that mean they didn’t deserve a shot? A couple years and nothing but ego seemed to grow on some. They’ll never forget how you made them feel, he mused. When a certain person fired up, the mood melted.
“All those things I said about you are all true. You are sweet to care, you send me messages out of empathy. You are funny. You crack jokes, which are bad, but make me laugh!”
It was her turn.
“When you tell someone to relax, it means they must’ve said something that crossed the line or made you uncomfortable. So tell that person, what it was so they can make sure not to do it again.”
“Don’t deny my compliments especially when I am honest.”