“I don’t think so but if you want to…”
She did. She fell. No way anyone was going to make it across that mini lake in the parking lot after the rain in a dress that tight. Logistics. Earths’ energy. Now I’ve got to figure out how to not get my car wet from this dripping girl trying to get in. How much guff would I get for leaving her behind. Give her some cab money. My seats are still so new.
I see the remote. I am aware it is certainly not underneath me but it feels it. My back feels it. Stabbing me in the sixth vertebrae. This couch is terrible. I would like to avoid sleeping here again. I’d have to do yoga for a week for every night here. Withering up like a liquid drained flower.
No breakfast. No coffee. Vanessa has ghosted on me before I could drag myself out of my sleepless night. We need a trip to the grocery store. Pop tarts. Strawberry with icing. Why icing, why? How does anyone still have teeth? Not as bad as three sweet teas a day but I can’t imagine enamel appreciating either. Dentures don’t sound too bad.
“Can we call this a new day?”
“I’ve got a date.”
“You didn’t tell me. Just give me a few minutes to get ready.”
“Not you,” Vanessa says. She seems to mean it. At least she will look good. Maybe we can skype later. I only need the highlights. Especially if it is not until the morning before she comes home. Our home.
“We are still together?” The walls don’t answer.
A week. Two weeks. Still home alone. Have been eating peanut butter sandwiches for three days. Ran out of jelly. Someone needs to go to the store.
“Are you still alive?” My mom asks when she calls to check on my attendance for Halloween dinner. We always celebrate in our own ways.
“Of course,” I’ll be there. Free food.
Halloween left overs make it a week. Vanessa’s been gone for a month. No clean dishes. I need to find someone for that. Craigslist.
Blow job and a clean house. All for two joints and some coke to go (some here for the speed of cleaning). It is amazing how great Craigslist can be. And got a new couch for delivery. Rather not sleep in our bed. It’s your smell. It is hard to sleep smelling when my cock gets all hard. It’s Pavlov. I’m nothing more deep than a dog. Heavy dose of reality.
A little whips and feathers. A feast of roast, mac and cheese, and Hawaiian bread. All that from a mute girl. No conversation. Just weird moans. I tip. She tried to pretend to be offended. Those with handicaps know when not to question a gift. No one ever wants to buy them flowers. Heart shaped boxes.
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