Entry 3—
Waiter
For
all I know, half of the time we spent together could’ve been a real sham.
“Poor little
Eva, always so eager to please!”
And what did I
get out of it? A pile of shit left by the first girl. The seasons changed,
fast, I was always uncertain about him, I never saw the sideshows that he
played but I had always assumed his mind was somewhere else. He could never
stay still, and he always counted our time together. Why couldn't it just feel
timeless? Just the way it felt for me? Time would always feel as if it never
shifted… but with Gus, it was always about the hour, it was always about the
minute, the second. I was never on time.
I met a waiter
today, cute looking guy with the smirk of a devil. I took him home after he got
off of work, rather, we ran into each other when I was on the way back from the
grocery store. It was like some cliché movie clip where the guy in a rush bumps
into the bag lady. He knocked my shit everywhere, tumbling tomatoes and a
rolling can of peas, at first I was angry until I had realized who he was. I
asked him up and made us both grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. It was
cold today, it had reminded me of the winter we sat in Gus’s car, and we were
on the way home and had just finished getting high. I was disoriented so I gave
us the wrong directions and we spent an extra twenty minutes to get home, he
was angry at me, I was angry at him.
The waiter was sweet; he said that
he hadn't “Had a meal like that since he was kid.” It was snowing outside and
eventually I sent him home, and shared the bed with my cat. Turning to my side
I ran my hand over the space where Gus would have been, silent and restless. I
could never sleep when we were together because I was always afraid he would
leave me.
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