Dancing Part III

As the slow song ended, Heather ran up to me all happy, bubbly. I (having no other excuse)  feigned equally as excited feelings. My friend just rolled her eyes and stepped back, waiting to watch the performance.  Heather practically skipped onto the dance floor. It was a slow dance and the mass of other people dancing blocked my view of my friend for a moment.  Heather was talking animatedly in tones loud enough to rupture any tympanic membrane, other couples dancing glared in our direction, Heather paid no attention. I remember her saying, "Who's that with your friend?"  Turning to look, I saw Mark talking to my friend. He looked intent, like he was trying desperately to get the point across. My friend looked annoyed. "An old acquaintance." I said, off handedly, while changing the direction of our dancing so I could watch.  Heather shrugged. "He's cute."  "Hm, if you say so."  She giggled.
Mark was now using expressive hand gestures, and in one swift moment, grabbed my friend and holding her tightly, began to dance.  My friend looked less than pleased and tried to push away.  He held tighter.  I began to lose interest in dancing with Heather, and instinctively began to move closer to my friend.
Mark was saying something, then without warning kissed my friend. She yanked free and slapped him.

I don't remember letting go of Heather, I just remember the next thing I said was something like, "What do you think you're doing?" Mark straightened, "Just dancing, got a problem with that?" He looked defiant.  "No, I don't have a problem with your participation in such frivolous activities." I said, glaring at him, "But I believe your behavior was less than acceptable and my friend might very well 'have a problem with that'."  He glared at me then turned to my friend, "Do you have a problem with that?"  My friend began to speak but he cut her off, "See! She doesn't! So go back to wherever ever it is you came from and leave us alone!"  He turned around, thinking the argument won. Other couples were stopping to watch. "Pardon me," I said, still trying to be diplomatic. "But I believe you did not let the lady speak. Under your laws, you are allowed freedom of speech and you are violating such a thing." "Thank you Mr. Jefferson." Mark said sarcastically, "But she doesn't need to talk,  besides, who wants a girls opinion anyway?" He looked around the room as if expecting to see heads nodding in agreement.  He didn't.  "Oh come on!" he yelled, "All girls are are pretty faces that don't have an ounce of logic in their heads! What kind of opinion could you get from that? I bet Mr. Smarty Pants here has a Mom who couldn't name the months of the year!" 
That did it.
Forget legal liability or the fact that anger is illogical, I hit him.
The look of shock on his face was gratifying. And then he hit back.  I vaguely remember feeling some form of pain, but that's it. I won't give you the ugly details, I will just say that Mark will look oh so charming with his front tooth missing.
                                                                      *
I fell back onto the couch in my friend's living room.  I heard her heels clicking as she went into the kitchen and opened the freezer. She came back and handed me an ice pack. "Wow." was all she said as I pressed the cold compress to my forehead. The world was spinning. "I didn't know you could hit like that." I nodded, faintly, "A matrix ninja never tells their secrets." She smiled, relieved that I was still feeling well enough to joke. "Well, Mark got what he deserved." I smiled to myself. Revenge was sweet.
My friend handed me a band aid, "Thanks Spock."  I smiled, "You're welcome."

Dancing II

"What are you going to wear to the dance?" My friend asked me, walking into my room. "An oxygen mask and safety gloves." "My friend rolled her eyes. "Please." "No, I think it's quite logical, you wear an oxygen mask to prevent dizziness from all of the different perfumes and you wear gloves to protect you from the sweaty palms of all your dancing partners." "Hm, good point." My friend said. "But just don't wear your black uniform ok?" "Why?" I asked, as that had been the article of choice. "You look like some freaky ninja from the Matrix movies."  I raised an eyebrow, "What is the Matrix?" "Oh never mind!" My friend sighed, exasperated and left the room. I tend to have that affect on her, I find it quite useful.
                                                                             *

"Just try and have fun." We were walking up the steps to the dance. "Is that advice or a threat?" I asked dryly. My friend didn't hear me, as a friend of hers had started talking to her. I waited patiently by her side while observing the room. It was a formal affair and the chandeliers and rich atmosphere was intoxicating.  Groups of girls were scattered randomly about, dressed in brightly colored dresses and whispering as they glanced at the various gentlemen. My friend's voice pulled me back. "And this is my friend, Spock."  I nodded gravely to the young lady, she smiled and her cheeks blushed red. My friend seemed slightly irritated by that and soon broke up the conversation.  We moved farther inside.  The music was provided by an orchestra, and I stood watching the instruments in silent fascination. "Will you stop that?" My friend said, "With the way you stare, you'd think you were a three year old that had never seen a violin before."   I raised an eyebrow, "Oh. Right. The violin is that one there." My friend said pointing.  I saw Mark from across the room. He had seen my friend and was walking across the room, then he spotted  me, with a glare, he turned abruptly and stalked away. "Friendly people you have here." I said under my breath.  My friend wasn't listening. She was again talking to one of her friends.  This friend wasn't even trying to pretend like she was listening. She was openly gaping at me.  Feeling uncomfortable, I made eye contact and gave a slight nod of my head in acknowledgment.  She blushed harder.
"Would you stop that!"  My friend whispered furiously. "Stop what?"  "Stop that." "Stop what?" I asked again, thoroughly confused. "You're flirting with her!" "I most assuredly am not!"  I retorted, shocked. "Whatever made you come to such a conclusion?"  Just then, a group of girls walked by, one of them dropping her purse. Without thinking, I bent and picked it up for her. The girl took the purse, giggling and walked away. I looked back at me friend. She had an, "I told you so" look on her face.  "What?" I asked, exasperated. She just rolled her eyes, "Do it again." "Do what again?" "That look you do. The raised eyebrow/smile thing."  "May I ask why?" "Just do it. For science, for me, whatever, just do it!" This was getting awkward. I randomly picked a girl standing in the corner and did what she asked. The result was the same. "See!" My friend said. "Proof! They like you!"  "It does not! It merely proves that dances provide the atmosphere of flirtatious people. See look: that man right there is smiling at that young woman, she in turn will....." I trailed off, the lady had walked away.
My friend looked smug. "Somebody likes Spock!" She sang.  Well, at least she wasn't mad at me. This dance had to be the most ludicrous thing I had ever attended.  Matching my friend's sing song voice, I asked her, "Are you jealous?" "Me?! Jealous? Of you!?" She looked incredulous. "No! Ew! I mean.. No!!"  She was completely flustered.  I smirked, "I think you are."  "I told you-"
"Dance with me." I interupted. "What?!" "Dance with me!" I asked, desperate now, I had spotted Heather and she was coming closer.  I grabbed my friend's hand and spun her out onto the dance floor. "Spock what on earth- "Vulcan" "Fine, Vulcan are you doing?"  "Heather."  I whispered quietly. "Ah." My friend said, "You really are a three year old, how does dancing with me prevent you from meeting her?"  Hm, she had a point. "It will simply buy me time until I can think of something." "So you don't have a plan?" "No, not really." My friend laughed.  She was quietly laughing until the song ended. She stepped back,  "Now what?" 
Heather was getting closer.

Dancing I

We were sitting at the dining room table; the smell of dinner cooking filled the air.  I had the communicator dismantled and spread out before me, still trying to fix it.  My friend stared at me across the table, her head in her hands. "Don't you ever give up?" She asked. "Perseverance." I said, not looking up from my work. She was quiet for a few minutes, the sound of the screwdriver against the communicator seeming incredibly loud.  "Hey, I was thinking, do you want to go to a dance on Saturday? Heather will be there."  I coughed and nearly dropped the screwdriver. Heather was the flirtatious, obnoxious and terrifying companion of my friend.  "What the matter? Your heart over come with joy to see Heather again?" She  teased. "On the contrary." I said, feeling a slight rush of panic. "I think cardiac arrest would be apropos." She gave me a blank look. "Appropriate for the situation." I explained. She nodded, "Ahhh." "What's so wrong with Heather? You two really seemed to hit it off."  I'm not sure what she mean by 'hitting it off' but from what I remember, Heather had practically pushed herself into my arms by pretending to faint. After her supposed "Recovery"  I had been stuck listening to her inane talking for hours. Evidently I had some pained look on my face because my friend changed the subject. "Ok then, about the dance, do you want to go?" I shrugged, suddenly the communicator had become more interesting.  My friend sensed the uncomfortable silence. "Have you ever been to a dance? Star fleet has those gala balls every once in awhile, surely you've been to at least one."  "Yes. One." My friend got a satsified look on her face. "But that was only because I lost a bet with Kirk." The look faded.  "Well did you at least dance at the one dance you went to? You seem more like the Mr. Darcy, "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me" type, no offense." I raised an eyebrow, "None taken."  "Well? Did you dance?"  I feigned a pained look, "Yes.  A horrendous affair forever ingrained in my memory! Not even the deepest sands of time can erase!"  "She looked at me. "Very poetic. More of your Segalt's creations?" "No, my brilliance and meditative skills conjured that one." She rolled her eyes.  "So who did you dance with?"  "I can't remember her name, only that she looked remarkably like a member of the Rodentia Mammalian classification."  My friend gave me a playful hit from across the table. "That's not nice! You are so mean!" "On the contrary." I said, straitening in my chair,  "I was merely stating the facts. Good science is observation of the facts, as I'm sure you are well aware of, like the fact that whatever it is you're cooking is burning in there."
My friend ran into the kitchen.
Dinner consisted of Chinese take-out that night. My friend said it was for the cultural experience, but I'm sure we all know the real reason.

Conversation

I realized that I have been posting major events and have not given an account on what happens on a daily basis. As an apology, here are some of the conversation pieces that happen throughout the day:


“Spock, I’m getting tired of Lucky Charms.” My friend said, pulling out a different box of cereal. “These are called Cheerios. You know? Like in England where they say cheerio? It’s like wishing you a good morning when you eat it.” At my blank look, she continued. “And look.” She said pointing to the words. “It says ‘Cheer’ that means if you eat these, then they will make you happy all day long.” She pushed the box towards me, ignoring my skeptical face. “As I am Vulcan, do you really expect a breakfast cereal to have affect on my emotional tendencies?” I said raising an eyebrow. “On the contrary, I would expect nothing of the sort and would think that no effect whatsoever would take place. As emotions are foreign to Vulcans, I would not expect that they could be replicated in a form of food whose second ingredient is sugar. But as sugar has been proven to give cathartic feelings to humans, I wouldn’t be surprised if the “Cheer” feeling they are giving you is really that of a sugar high.” My friend looked at me, gave an exaggerated motion of picking up the box of cereal and replaced it with Lucky Charms. “Happy?” “Happy’ is again, one of your human emotions.” I continued, “I would call it more of a satisfaction. Or possibly, triumph that I have proven to you the benefits of one cereal over another.” She looked at me again, “Just eat your cereal Spock.”

Or the random questions my friend asks me during the quiet hours of the afternoon:
"Spock, what's your favorite color?"  "I'm not sure what you mean by 'favorite' but I have always been partial to the color red." "Oh." She said, you could tell she was waiting. When I don't ask her the question back, she gets irritated; I can't say that I take no pleasure in watching her grow increasingly angry. It normally ends with her hitting my arm and saying, "Well!?!" I sigh,  "What's your favorite color?"  "Green." I nodded, "Fascinating." "What's your favorite animal?" "Again, I don't understand what you mean by 'favorite' but Tribbles are a sentimental type of creature." "That's not answering the question. I said what's your favorite."

I won't bore you longer with the desultory questions.  Sometimes she asks other questions, such as ones in the  scientific, mathematical or literate genres. But, mostly, when I start to make a statement to one of these questions, it  is interrupted with a science joke. Here is one of her favorites: "Hey Spock, you know the equation, E=Mc2?" "Yes, I am familiar with the equation-" "Well, you know what it really means? Energy equals milk chocolate squared!! Ha,ha, ha! That's so funny, well; I guess you and chocolate wouldn't work well, but still..." 

Sometimes, she catches me off guard, and asks sentimental queries. I think she enjoys the look on my face when I try and answer.  They are mostly questions about life on Vulcan, what my childhood was like, or how my parents met. My answers are guarded, I don't like such questions. They bring emotions that are hard to control and the feelings are less then reassuring. My friend asked me one the other day that I had a hard time answering. "Spock." My friend said, looking at me over the Chinese takeout we'd ordered. "Is it possible for Vulcans to fall in love?  I mean is that scientifically possible? With their lack of emotion, I don't think they could feel that. It's sad, everyone should fall in love." I wasn't sure what to say to this. I told her that it probably wasn't possible but the event occurring was indeed probable. She looked disapointed with my answer. But the truth was, I was falling in love- with her.

The common cold

Acute viral rhinopharyngitis. Otherwise known as the common cold. Not so common to Vulcans. Not a week had passed by since Charley and Gabriel's visit and I was sick with  a cold-The midnight star observations probably didn't help.  As colds are foreign to Vulcans, I will explain to eliminate any confusion: Colds are diabolical, deplorable and have a keen sense of vengeance. Symptoms include: Apathetic appetite to food, (Including lucky charms) incredible amounts of Kleenex tissue and hours of agony while being forced to watch food network. Sleep is near impossible as breathing has been inhibited to the sound of an early model space craft launching. As my communicator has been destroyed, I am unable to contact McCoy for medical supplies and am forced to consume vast quantities of what the humans call, "Cold medicine".  This cold medicine is some of the most abominable stuff on the planet. (Next to my friend's skill for cooking) They flavor their medicines with such things as grape, cherry, or tropical fruit, none of which come close to any resemblance of their namesake. The medicine is a liquid, sticky and thick. I try not to imagine the type of effluvia that rises from it, the smell is enough to send anyone gagging. Mary Poppins had the right idea about adding a "Spoonful of sugar" but I'm afraid not even a whole truck load would help.  My friend tries to be as helpful as possible, but fights back laughter every time I speak. The sickness has made my voice change and for some reason that I cannot comprehend, she finds this hilariously funny. If mind melds could pass on this cold, I would. My friend would be the one sitting on the couch being forced to watch countless re runs of mindless television and eating plomleek soup. ( A wonderful Vulcan dish, but my friend refuses to make it as she claims that it smells horribly.)  Though this cold is awful and not at all worth wishing for, the experience is fascinating and will help me more closely relate to earth life.  In the name of Science, *Sigh* can I have more cough medicine?

Relatives- Part IIII

Happy, euphoric, joyful day! -If Vulcans could feel such emotions. Today was the day Charley and her brother would be leaving. Leaving me in quiet, meditative, tranquility. There is also another reason for rejoicing, Charley was "Grounded" today. Let me explain:
On occasion, I like to rise from my bed between the hours of two and four A.M. to have a bowl of Lucky Charms and catch up on my quantum physics reading. (A Vulcan can never stop his studying for long). Charley having been made aware of this, had lain wait to scare me- except for one thing- it wasn't me. It was my friend. The scream was loud enough to shake the house. As I came running up the stairs to see what was the matter, I heard my friend yelling, "Don't you ever do that again! You hear me? Never!" Charley had pushed herself against the door as to make herself as small as possible. My friend's hair was flying in every direction and the look on her face was enough to frighten even me. I heard Gabriel crying from the other room. "Go tell him every things ok." My friend ordered. Gabriel was sitting in his bed crying hysterically; never having been taught to be much comfort, I tried my best to calm the child, though I'm afraid my efforts were in vain. After a few tentative attempts at phrasing something to say, Gabriel flung himself at me and held, clinging to my arm. The shock of physical contact was discomforting to me, but as humans tend to rely on physical comfort, I obliged. I heard my friend's voice rising from the other room, "You are grounded! You can't leave the house until your parents come. No T.V., no computer, no phone." I concluded that "Grounded" must be another word for punishment, though the comparison of being stuck on the ground to being punished seemed a bit far fetched for me. I heard a door slam, Charley's final attempt at being seditious. My friend came into Gabriel's room with a sigh. I tried to pry Gabriel off me and hand him to her. But Gabriel just cried and squeezed harder. My friend said she was going to bed, and I was left alone, the faint glow of the night light casting a homely light on Gabriel's slept tossed hair. It took twenty minutes for him to fall asleep, but when he did, he simply rolled off me and into his bed. Not sure what to do next, I searched my memory for inspiration. Ah, yes, I remembered. Tucking the sheets in and lightly patting his head, I left the room.

Sleep was impossible.

The morning dawned with an angry friend, a sullen Charley and an overjoyed Gabriel. He provided the only conversation at the breakfast table and talked animatedly over what he wanted to do today; the memory of last night seemingly forgotten. Sensing that any attempts at conversation with my friend would be futile, I conversed with Gabriel. He told me repeatedly that he wanted to go to The dinosaur museum and that he wanted to see a tyrannosaurus Rex.
Upon my query of what a Tyrannosaurus Rex was, he sighed and turned to my friend, "Can we go to see the dinosaurs? Please? Please! I'll be good!" "I don't see why not." My friend said sighing, "But Charley can't come." Gabriel stopped to ponder this. "But can we still go?" At my friend's response, he shouted joyfully and ran from the room. Five minutes later, he was dressed and waiting expectantly.
An hour later, my friend was ready to go. She left specific instructions for Charley, who wouldn't respond, and then closed the door.
Gabriel talked the whole way. I tried my best to keep him entertained, as my Friend did not seem talkative. But even my efforts were hopeless and I too fell silent.
The dinosaur museum was large and informative, but I will not post my findings here. It will suffice to say that Gabriel ran over the entire building, nearly fell off an exhibit he wasn't supposed to be on and that I was thoroughly exhausted by the time it was over.
Gabriel slept the whole way home, a welcome relief.
A strange vehicle was parked in the driveway when we arrived. Gabriel, having awoken by then, shouted, "Mom!" and sprang from the car. After exchanging pleasantries and conversing for over an hour, (none of which is relevant and needs posting) Gabriel* and Charley left. I'm going to miss the little guy, Charley, not so much.
I moved my things back upstairs and with a sigh, laid on my bed to stare at the glow in the dark stars. My friend walked in just in time to see the look on my face. "What's wrong?" She looked up too, "Oh my." Stuck to every individual star, was a piece of chewing gum. A parting gift from Charley. "Spock, I'm so sorry, Do you want help cleaning this up?" "I have no comment on the matter." I responded, my face expressionless, but my voice showing a smile,"Except, the complexities of human pranks escape me." My friend just shook her head as she went to get a stepping ladder.





* I thought you might be curious as to what happened to Gabriel. After he graduated college, he came to live with me on Vulcan and I mentored him for many years. We became fast friends. His knowledge greatly influenced Vulcan technology, despite his being human. I have a mind that when I finish my story, I will tell his.