cozy up with seth

the last time i bought a pack of batteries in africa, pulled out 2 AA and stuck them in my discman, they didn't even last me 2 songs.

batteries here are not powerful. if you put any faith in them whatsoever, they'll let you down.

this time, i brought my own over, and i cherish them. i know each one by name, and my supply is slowly diminishing. i'm greedy with my batteries, and the devices that need them to operate.
nanakwame asks to use my headlight to walk to town, and i pour some kerosene into a lantern and hand it over to him. my headlamp takes 4 AA's.
sakola wants to look at some pictures i took of us on the digital camera, but i tell him no. it will use up too much of my precious batteries. he understands frugality.

i am a battery nazi.

just the other day i was relaxing on my mattress, indulging in the pleasures of music. i was listening to my discman weighing every song against the worth of battery juice. the picture on the screen of the discman was flashing, i had 1/3 left. i felt good about this.

i closed my eyes and exercised my ankles by spelling out the alphabet with my big toes. then i opened them, and admired how well my sprain had healed, how sexy my ankle had become.

out of the corner of my eye, i noticed my door swing open, and like kramer from seinfeld (except expressionless and depressed), seth came sliding into my room.

i sat up, kept my headphones in.

he stared at me and began talking. i tried to make out what he was saying, but i couldn't hear him so i nodded, thinking he might leave, that maybe the nod was sufficient interaction.

but it wasn't. instead, he came over and sat down with me on my bed, scooching in close. so close my left thigh and his right were pressed hard against each other and when i turned to look at him i had to pull my head back or our lips would have touched.

i paused the music.

"hi." i said.

"hello what are you listening to?"

he has a way of talking, of stringing together phrases and questions into one long vocal marathon.

"american folk music."

seth likes music, likes blasting 80's love songs at all hours of the day and night from his boombox. i like knowing seth is passionate about something, so i don't mind hearing the same cheesy songs over and over again.

"american folk music i see do you mind if i listen?"

i looked down at my ear pieces, they are the kind you lodge deep inside, the kind i hate sharing with people whose ears i don't trust. it's hard enough to trust my own ears, cleaning with Qtips is always an adventure, but seths?

"um" i said trying my hardest to think of a good reason to say no, "um... well... um...argh... okay, but you can only have 1. my batteries are running up."

i handed over the little white nob and watched as he wedged it into his big greasy ear hole. i cringed then put mine in. the wire connecting the two pieces had been manufactured in a way that forced us to move even closer together, it was too short. both our headphones were in, and our legs and arms and heads were pressed together.

it was uncomfortable at first, being that close to seth. i could feel his clammy skin and smell his dusty smell and we weren't talking. i became painfully aware of the lyrics we were listening to, of lovers falling in love, dying for one another. he was drumming his fingers against his thigh and moving his neck around to the sound of the guitar. i was sitting there wondering about this moment, telling myself to relax.

before, when i was listening alone, the song was beautiful. but now that i was sharing it i felt i had to defend myself from any implications. i pulled a blanket over my legs. i didn't want him listening to love songs and staring at my legs. i pulled my shirt up to my neck. i became very mormon. i hoped he'd leave soon, so i could daydream alone, so i wouldn't have to sit stiffly to keep my one headphone in.

while the song was starting up into another, seth mentioned through the pause that he really loved my music. "it is really beautiful." he said.

i looked at our legs pasted up against each other. mine was muscular, long, and white. his looked more like a scraggly tree branch, thin and inconsequential. then i noticed the music had cheered him to a point where even his feet and toes were moving. once i got over the fact they were rubbing brown dirt smudges all over my white sheets i saw some beauty in what was happening. seth was coming back to life.

"you like this music?" i asked, staring ahead.

"oh very much you say it is what kind of music again?"

"it's called folk music." i said.

"beautiful, beautiful."

we kept listening, through the entire 16 songs. we had almost fallen asleep on one another, lost in the melodies. the music and the time and my constant staring at his weak depressed body gave me more compassion to love him like a brother.

when it was over, we seperated and the sweat from our legs unsuctioned our stuck flesh.

he jumped up off my bed, ran over to a picture on my wall, and kissed it. "i love that girl what do you say her name is again?" pointing to my friend on the wall.

"valeria." i said, stressing the italian accent.

"VA-LAIR-IAH!" he repeated, throwing an arm in the air.

"yep."

"sounds very similar to malaria, valeria, malaria, valeria. i really love that girl it's true." then he kissed the photo again.

"well i gave you her number when you first came and you still haven't called her."

"oh i will call her, you say her name is valeria?"

"yes."

"do you think she'd take an african man?"

"any african man, or you?"

"me do you think she'd take me?"

i looked him up and down, then shrugged. "don't know. call her and ask. but to tell you the truth, i don't think she's into the whole long distance relationship thing."

he gave a pensive nod and looked around my room. i could tell he wanted to talk, wanted to hang out a bit, wanted some interaction, but i was through. i was tired of his company, but glad to have broken through some of our barriers.

"okay," i said "i'd like to be alone now."

"oh so you'd prefer for me to leave your room now?"

"yes." i said.

"sure sure." and he scurried towards my door, turning back to give the photo one more kiss, a little too juicy for my liking.

he didn't say bye, or thanks for forcing me into semi-cuddling for the past hour, or for sharing my batteries, but when he left my room and the door swung open i didn't feel the need to run and lock it. giving me that was enough.