A drink with Vicky
Arthur S. ReberRicky: “Well I’ll be damned, it’s Vicky G. Vicky. How are you?”
Vicky: “Hmm….”
Ricky: “Vicky? It’s been what, at least a year, maybe two?”
Vicky: “Hmmmm….”
Ricky: “The Tango Club, right? Heck of a night. Hey, can I get you the next one?”
Vicky: “Huh?”
Ricky: “Next one, next drink.”
Vicky: “Hmmm….”
Ricky: “It’s kinda neat seeing you again.”
Vicky: “Not really.”
Ricky: “What?”
Vicky: “I said ‘No, not really’.”
Ricky: “You said what? Not really what?”
Vicky: “Not really neat seeing you again, Ricky.”
Ricky: “I’m confused. Why not?”
Vicky: “’Cause I’m not talking to you.”
Ricky: “Hello?”
Vicky: “I don’t talk to you.”
Ricky: “Well, obviously that’s not true.”
Vicky: “Hmmm….”
Ricky: “You don’t talk to me?”
Vicky: “Nope, not since then I don’t.”
Ricky: “Not since when? What when? And why?”
Vicky: “That night, Tango Club.”
Ricky: “Yeah, okay, Tango.”
Vicky: “Right. Tango.”
Ricky: “But why?”
Vicky: “You don’t remember?”
Ricky: “I do not. I am confused.”
Vicky: “I’m not.”
Ricky: “What happened?”
Vicky: “You don’t remember, do you?”
Ricky: “No, I don’t.”
Vicky: “Hmm…. Well, I don’t talk to you anymore. Not since then.”
Ricky: “Vicky?”
Vicky: “Yes?”
Ricky: “I’m thinkin’ I, like maybe blew it that evening? Like I maybe pissed you off?”
Vicky: “You did.”
Ricky: “If you tell me what I did it might help.”
Vicky: “You don’t remember?”
Ricky: “No, I don’t. We have established that.”
Vicky: “I can’t believe it.”
Ricky: “But I don’t. I just don’t.”
Vicky: “Forget it then.”
Ricky: “Forget? How can I forget what I don’t remember?”
Vicky: “Hmmm….”
Ricky: “Listen, if I hurt you …..”
Vicky: “Hmmmm.…”
Ricky: “Oh, fuck this. Do you want an apology?”
Vicky: “No.”
Ricky: “Why not?”
Vicky: “Because it won’t be one.”
Ricky: “Why not?”
Vicky: “Because you don’t know what you’d be apologizing for. It won’t count.”
Ricky: “Well then, what do you want me to do?”
Vicky: “Forget it.”
Ricky: “Okay, forgotten, not remembered. Same shit. You want a drink?”
Vicky: “No. Not from you. I don’t talk to you.”
Ricky: “Vicky.”
Vicky: “What?”
Ricky: “You don’t remember either, do you.”
Vicky: “Hmmmm….”
Ricky: “Do you?”
Vicky: “No.”
Ricky: “Why …”
Vicky: “Why I’m not talking to you?”
Ricky: “Yeah, and what I did.”
Vicky: “Right. What …”
Ricky: “And why you’re not talking to me.”
Vicky: “Yeah. I don’t know. I just remember I’m really, really pissed at you.”
Ricky: “For like, what, two years?”
Vicky: “Yes.”
Ricky: “But you don’t know why.”
Vicky: “Nope. But it still hurts.”
Ricky: “Kind of off-pissing, isn’t it?”
Vicky: “What? You?”
Ricky: “No, not me. Not remembering.”
Vicky: “Yeah.”
Ricky: “Are you talking to me?”
Vicky: “Obviously.”
Ricky: “Dinner?”
Vicky: “Sure, let’s go. But don’t let it happen again.”
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