Margot, the elusive (part 3)
Waking next to Margot in her bed I couldn’t describe the feeling – something between shock and schoolboy glee. Like winning the lottery. It’s rare when you roll over to see a girl’s messed up hair and smeared mascara, pillow lines in her face, feeling that awful pounding in your stomach from a night of drinking, and all you can think is: oh-fucking-yes.
It’s odd, but most of the time, when there’s a girl so beautiful, intelligent, confident and interesting, I act like a bumbling moron who can’t even conjugate verbs. But every so often there’s a woman like Margot who inspires me to say all the right things at the right times; to hold my liquor; to write epic love letters that are smart and funny – hinting at an endless reservoir of deep feelings and sentimentality – and even romantic comedy-esque silly bullshit that you won’t voice because you have some modicum of taste and restraint and sensibility. This is what happened with Margot. She made me perform at 110 percent.
I had run into her the night before at an open mic and we got to chatting about how much we both hated most acoustic guitar music. She asked me if I played. I said yes. Then she wandered off to talk with some friends. Just as I was about to leave dejectedly, the MC said, “And next on our list, we have Knox Dupree.”
Fuck, I thought, feeling the heat in my ears. Presumably Margot signed me up to play on the sly. I’m not nearly drunk enough for this, I thought. But when I looked out into the crowd, I saw Margot’s smiling brown eyes and I knew I had to lay down just the right song to capture her. She was giving me a chance and I had to exceed her expectations. So I played “Waterloo Sunset” without slipping up once, my voice hitting every note, making eye contact with the lyrics, “As long as I gaze on Waterloo sunset, I am in paradise.”
I’m not the greatest musician or performer, but what can I say? Margot brought it out in me. And the full house standing ovation filled me with a new sense of self. Getting off stage, three people bought me drinks. Margot just sat in her chair,beaming at me.
When we woke up the next morning, I had a definite beat in my step. We went out to a little neighborhood breakfast place and I was all gums and teeth. Margot, however, was distant. She barely touched her eggs Florentine. After splitting the bill and leaving the restaurant I asked her what she wanted to do with the rest of the afternoon.
“Knox, I’m – I’m sorry for leading you on like this,” she said. “I didn’t know what I was feeling last night or why. But to keep goingthrough the motions with you now would be wrong. I just don’t want you.”
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