Wednesday, March 4, 2015

sweet moment...

I just got back into town a few days ago - El Paso - not my favorite place in the world... but mom is here and it is close to the border for a quick escape... the hustling is good but harder for the competition in all the things that I do to earn my money... before I left to go back to Mexico I met a twenty two year old cashier with a thin and tight athletic body... that I want to get to know better... we went out twice before my trip and made out quite heavily both times... to gauge her reaction, I emailed her from a friends office downtown soon after I crossed the bridge... to let her know I was back and  figure out if we were getting together anytime soon... she pinged me as I was checking the rest of my e-mail and we started chatting - said I was hungry for a double cheese burger and was on my way to my favorite burger joint by my place on the west side... she said she would meet me...

I stood in line to get my burger... a middle aged woman with two teenage girls walked in and stood next to me - the woman was way too over weight to be there getting burgers... she had a short boy hair gut and she looked miserable... we made eye contact and she smiled at me... a half embarrassed... half disappointed smile... I did not smile back... as I turn back to the girl at the register I made eye contact with both of her daughters and smiled at them... I place my order grabbed my soda cup and made my way to the soda fountain...

Found a table with a view to the entrances... laid down my shoulder bag and sat down to go through my agenda... marking off ‘to-do’s” and filling in time slots... jotting down ideas... the woman and her daughters passed by but I kept my head buried in my agenda... they sat at a both in front of me where I had a view of all of them... my burger arrived and I would occasionally look up and catch the daughters looking at me and turning to each other to whisper and giggle... noting too that the mother was getting quite annoyed... half way through my meal... I hear the mother say to the oldest daughter... “that’s disgusting... he’s old enough to be your father... in fact he is your father’s age - I want to high school with him...”
 
Sweet moment... I don’t remember too many people from high school... have no desire to look for any one and play catch up... I could care fucking less about what they are doing now... the only ones I remember are the girls I lusted over and the ones that treated me like shit - they are usually one and the same... but I remember these girls the way I knew them - I have no fantasies of them growing up to be fat and miserable boy hair cut sporting mommas... in my forty five year old fantasies of them... they are still 16 and 17 years old... and I am 45...  I do not look like I did in high school... perhaps a little in the face - but I have chiseled out more in the last few years... I have put on muscle and trimmed my belly to get me the abs I have always wanted... I deserve my burger and damn it - I need the meat... I walk a lot, I go on long hikes regularly, I lift and do crunches daily... middle aged momma should not be here eating burger... I don’t know how she would recognize me from almost thirty years - twenty eight years since I left high school - I dropped out... I am not the same boy I was back then... I am not the same boy I was when I left El Paso... I look different... I behave different and I live differently... my loner ways and low tolerance for bullshit are much more amplified... but unless you spent much time with me as a youth - you might not recognize me - but I have been approached in El Paso by people that remember me but I never spoke to when I was young... I don’t seem to mind speaking to those I did not know well back then as opposed to those I called my friends... go figure...

I got up to get another drink...  As I am filling up my soda cup the older daughter stands next to me and start to fill up her cup... I look down and smile at her...

“How are you today?” a start the conversation...
“good... how are you?”
“Fantastic...”
She giggles - “Umm... my mom says she was in high school with you... really?” sounding kinda’ unsure of herself or the question...
“I don’t seem to remember your mother... but it might be possible... she doesn’t look familiar...”
Well... she looked different... she was cute... she was popular and her picture is all over the yearbook...’
“Hmm... I never got yearbooks... and I was not popular... so we probably ran with different crowds...”
“She says everyone knew who you were...?”
“They did... ?” - that’s strange I think to myself...
“Uh-hu... a lot of her friends liked you...”
“Well - I never heard that...”
“Guess how old I am?”
I look her up and down - “18"
“Ha! I’ll be eighteen in the end of March...” with a big smile... and she starts to play with her hair and sway her shoulders... and I am thinking I’ll be 46 on the 6th of March... “you’re like... my dad’s age... right?”
“I don’t know - did I go to school with him too?”
“yea...  He and my mom got married after college... but he was at Coronado too...”
“And what does he look like... was he one of the cool kids too...” - she laughs
“He doesn’t look like you...” she looks at me - kinda’ hypnotic look on her face and breathes in heavily... but I am delusional...
“Well... that makes it all right with me...”

And then her mother calls out to her in a voice that awakens and irritates the demons in my mind...

“Lacey!!! get over here...”

She breathes out and laughs and turns with a girlish skip to go back to her table... I heard the mother say something but couldn’t make it out as my head was spinning a little... that girl was hot...

I sat back down and returned to my burger and fries... “hola chico...” came the voice of my young cashier... she gives me a long kiss on the side of my face and a short peck on the lips when I turn to her... she gets ketchup on her lips... she is wearing really tight sweat pants... not quite spandex... but tight and one of those mid-riff athletic bra type shirts... don’t know what the hell they are called - but she looks like she was working out or going to work out as she does not look like she has been perspiring... her hair is up in a pony tail and her figure on display for all to see... she sits next to me... I offer her food... she declines but looks up at the menu and says she might get a salad in a little while... good girl... but she grabs my soda and drinks it all down... I look up and catch Lacey and her sister staring... I also make eye contact with the mother... she shakes her head at me and I smile at her... my girl gets up to refill my drink... and as she walks away... a take a good look at her ass... nice... firm young latin ass... I smile... and Lacey says - loud enough for all to hear... “Oh my God...!”

Sweet moment indeed.

9 comments:

deborahflorence said...

Oh my! Oh my! You were getting it from all sides!!! Sweet moment indeed for you.

BTW, spandex pants and a sports bra aren't appropriate attire in public. Those clothes belong in a gym. She's not dressing as a lady, but I think you don't mind. The Scarlett in me would have sworn too.

It's great you visited with your mother.

deborahflorence said...

From a Southern Belle's perspective. . .

In many ways, you remind me of Captain Rhett Butler. I know he's fictional but he has always seemed real to me. He was a scoundrel, a pirate. He trusted no one. He had few friends and his family had disowned him a long time ago.

I have often imagined what happened to him when he left Scarlett and Tara. Scarlett--the woman who left a scar on his heart in the shape of a scarlett "S." He left and was on his way back to Charleston. He left as a broken man, harboring a grudge, unable to forgive. I imagined that he never cared/loved anyone again. Scarlett had broken him for all the women who would come after her. He went back to his old ways--drinking and gambling--no purpose--just living because that's what one does until one dies. In a druken state, he probably told "S" storeis (like your "E" stories) to whoever was around to listen but he never remembered them or the private thoughts he gave away by morning. And so it goes, until one night, death greets him and he is happy to see the old visitor. They walk together to the sea. The sea, his resting place. After all, he was a pirate.

In contrast, Scarlett watches Rhett go and comforts herself with the thought of Tara and hope that maybe he would return for her one day. Hope--the stuff dreams are made of. You can survive on hope. In time, I'm sure she forgot or at least thought less often about Rhett. She had told him how she felt. She made herself look like a blubbering fool and was coldly rejected. She would comfort herself by knowing that she said what she wanted to say even if Rhett made her feel like a fool for saying it--he didn't give a damn--how cold--just like a pirate. She probably never remarried. She had no need for it. She had been married three times. She didn't need anyone to take care of her anymore. She could now take care herself and her family. Scarlett lived to be a very old woman--retaining traces of beauty even into old age. She became a grandmother (she had a son when she married Rhett), a great grandmother and an aunt. She lived to see Tara passed on to another generation. She dies in her sleep, dies in peace, and at the appropriate time.

deborahann15 said...

I'm working on my blog.

deborahann15 said...

OK--I've post pictures--don't know if you can see them. I would love to read your book about Veronica. I'm a good editor.

dash deringer said...

good luck with your Blog... I may lurk in the back round if you ever get around to posting anything... if you need writing ideas just copy and paste stuff that you have written here... that was a joke - delicate sensitive creatures... i don't post comments much on other sites - maybe I am using the internet wrong but it takes a lot to make me laugh and I am not easily offended... and nothing shocks me anymore... so you will be lucky if I comment... but I will not assume as much about you as you have done so here...

dash deringer said...

ohh... Dagmar does my editing... for stuff like that... but then I send it to a guy named Jan when she is done with it - just to double check... but don't let Dags know...

deborahann15 said...

Assume as much about you . . . I'm a little offended. The sensitive delicate creature I am . . . haha . . .and I think I'm right anyway on most of it. You don't care--healthy attitude--or denial?!!

I don't want to be too hard on you. It's good not to care too much about what others think about you or what you do. It's a survival skill and a good one at that. For me, I care what God, my husband, and my kids think about me---and in that order too. Everybody else is a toss up.

dash deringer said...

"and I think I'm right anyway on most of it" -

no - you don't know shit - you don't know what the fuck you are talking about... you really, really don't.

deborahann15 said...

OK, swear words. You don't use them in your poetry. You rarely use them in any of your writing for the most part.

This means you're serious. Sorry it had to come to that. My father used to say my mother could even make God curse.

I took your advice. My journal---every year my students had one as a requirement for my class. I didn't have one myself. kinda hypocritical of me . . . and I will probably copy some of this too. I'm writing my thoughts down. It's a good thing, really it is.

I've been able to benefit from a total stranger. Muchas gracias!! Did you know?? Spanish is the most spoken of the five major romance languages.