Friday, February 18, 2005

Ticked

We were sitting in a booth at Denny’s. It was one of those things you do at night, when you have nothing to attend to, sitting at a 24 hour diner looking out over several lanes of black top and the streetlights going off into infinity on either side. Drinking cup after cup of coffee and Dr. Pepper.

Our waitress was young, with dark hair, and she jokingly threatened that it would be my last straw as she set the latest cup of Dr. Pepper in front of me.

But I mean seriously, who works at Denny’s?

Was she one of those young, unwed mothers? You know: hadn’t abstained, condom failed?

But I mean whatever, who the fuck cares?

My companion observed over one of his cups of coffee that she was pretty. I nodded, shrugged, took a sip of soda.

“Does it annoy you that I told you I think she’s pretty”

I shrug again, “doesn’t matter.”

I used to know a guy named Trent. A recovering alcoholic, shady past, maybe an ex wife. I mean, it’s not like we talked about it.

But he had a girlfriend, Danielle. She was almost painfully thin, with a plain face and straight brown hair. She’d been around for the bad times, his guiding light and all that bull shit you know. They didn't want kids.

He was just over 10 years senior to Yvonne. She had dimples with a full white-toothed smile, golden streaks through her hair. She loved kids, couldn't wait to pop out a few.

February 14th 2005 was Trent and Yvonne’s one year anniversary. Probably this very moment feathering the proverbial nest.

And I thought about it today, splashing through puddles. Cold and calculating, my eyes slitted, my jaw muscles clenched.

You settle. You fuck. You don’t need to know how it works, or even that it does. That’s what you’re built to do.

It’s so funny it made me giggle.
Maybe even chortle.

And in the end, my socks got wet.

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