big-face

I have friends now. I don’t participate in my own oppression. I went to the place today. It was all very impromptu and shit. Bill called.  I said: hey how about we meet at quarter to eleven? And he was like huh? Okay.

I went. There was probably gonna be unpleasantness and meanness on the part of glasses girl, aka his woman. I just prayed to be able to handle it. I mean, I’ve done some fucked up things in the past, but I should be able to meet a friend at the only place in town where you can sit for a while and shoot the shit.

Oh boy. So I see bill and we go in. of course it’s fuckin cold as hell. His face all scrunched beneath his tan baseball cap. His little blue puff coat. We go in.

The nice girl, young, is there.

Hi! She says. So far, glasses girl is absent. Oh good. We get coffee and then there she is. I don’t even look behind the counter. I don’t look at her at all, only out of the corner of my eye to notice damn, she has a fuckin big face.

Ok, be cool. She goes out the door. I don’t look at her. Half an hour later, she comes back. I do not look at her. She made her fuckin point the last time I was there. rudeness. Hostility to the max.  I had no idea what to expect this time. Honestly, I thought the worst: him and his woman were going to gang up on me and start hurling accusations, slurs about my mental unfitness, shit like that. Maybe call the cops and have me trespassed from the premises. But no. it didn’t happen. I never saw him. For all I know, he wasn’t even there. one way or another, I didn’t really care. I’m over it. Over him, or the idea of him anyway. They both put a definite stop to that. Their hatred of me couldn’t be any clearer. Ok, fine. I really just wanted to hang out with my friend and lo and behold, it was possible after all. No confrontation. Just don’t look at the bitch. let her think she put me in my place. Well, she kinda did. They both should live happily ever after, him and his big-face woman: the donut couple of the century.

Dunkin Dump

I hardly ever go there at all. So what’s her problem?  I go to the Dunkin dump today. That’s their latest ad, I swear. Gyrating sweating girls drinking some kind of protein concoction and doing splits.  Lot of lipstick. I don’t go there much. Maybe once a week, once every 2 weeks and goddamn, I make sure it’s after her man leaves. In the afternoon. So what’s her problem?

I go in. bill and bob are there, and bob’s wife. Ok…wave and smile

I go to the counter. Glasses bitch spots me and comes up.

What can I get you? she spits at me, making direct eye contact. Nasty. I look at the ceiling briefly, a little taken aback by her…attitude. Rendered mute for a second there. Then I look her right in the eyes. Study her yellow bottom teeth.

A medium cappuccino

Hot or iced?

Hot I say.

What in it?

Whaddya mean, what in it?

Flavoring. Chocolate, syrups—

No.

That’ll be 4.96. out of 10. She hands me back the 5 and 4 cents. I put the four cents in the tip jar. (There ya go, honey).

Careful not to touch her. She stares daggers at me the whole fuckin time. I stare right back at her. She’s not that great looking. Plus she’s mean. What in the fuck.

She goes to the other counter. Yells out my order and puts the cup down, walks away. I’m a little shook. Does she want to fight me? She definitely hates my guts. she doesn’t even know me. I’ll catch her outside some time, put her in a snowbank. Hot or iced. Jesus. It’s 20 below wind chill outside. I’ll bury her ass, given half a chance. Hypothermia would set  in fast. I’m just not in the mood.

the rain will come

I go to the place a few days ago. There is a huge amount of work going on behind the scenes in my psyche. in my soul. Bob gets there first, his big red pickup we go in together what’re you having?

You don’t have to

I’ll buy not a problem

Thanks bob. can I have a regular coffee cream no sugar? the girls behind the counter smile at one another. my paranoia flares.

I really like your glasses,” blue sweatshirt girl says.

thanks (ok, maybe overreacting).

the coffees will come up right here.

 Sure. don’t look don’t look a quick glance his back going into the other room in slow motion “thanks bob.” we go sit down here comes bill

what’s that?

tuna salad bill really likes it.

Oh. at this point the rain is trying to come. The sky is swollen. Humid. Bill gets his coffee and sits down next to me we all talk. Stuff. I look behind me, in the entryway there is a space where he could see me from the pass, or at least the back of my head.  There is a great deal of work being done by my hair follicles, my brain, and my stomach. I haven’t looked, no more of that despair but now there is a new type of despair: I won’t see him at all. This is horrible but I persevere. Music plays in the background, like my nighttime tinny radio set to whisper volume to have melodies on in the red light. Then the impossible happens. He comes out from his spot, still behind the counter but he goes to the cash register. From there he sees me, takes something out and goes back. He fucking came and looked for me. We see each other.  shortly after, in his neon blue hoodie.

 “bye bill.” the girls call. he looks back briefly, nonplused, then heads out the door.