The botanic gardens is a nice place at night. It is quiet. And to find this lush greenery just off orchard road is surprising. This must be what life is about, sitting down with good company on the grass and eating salty crunchy tidbits. I declined the plastic bag to sit on. I took off my socks and shoes and planted myself on the damp grass. People lingered behind after the movie ended, and all of us just talked.
One of the guys had gotten so drunk he was a heap on the floor and had to be helped to his feet. I suppose it helped him to paw at her. Were they or weren’t they? Hadn’t I seen her with her boyfriend at Union Square? During the movie, his friends had retreated back somewhat so that their talking would not disturb the group of people in front. He remained close to her, they were at whispering distance, and they talked during the movie. Now his head was almost on her shoulder, and he rested his hand on the grass beside her, his arm was extended across her back. My arms were extended behind me on the damp grass too. I thought the vodka and orange juice was awful and poured half of it away, taking care not to let it trickle onto my already wet behind. The rest I felt obliged to sip. The border collie that might have lapped at it was already gone. Suddenly she struggled somewhat to free herself from him. I averted my eyes and looked at the screen.
When the movie ended, the guys helped the drunk guy up — he was flat on the grass — and left first. The vodka girl sat closer and helped herself to the crunchy peanuts I was holding. Everyone helped themselves to the crunchy peanuts. All of us began talking, maybe dinner someplace? I wondered.
The guys had walked some distance before the drunk guy collapsed on the grass again. She ran off to check on him. She was leaving with them too.