Standing In The Crowd

I ran through the ads for what seemed like the hundredth time, practically reciting the lines as I read about various crumbling apartments, way out of price range upscale condos, and various timeshares.

“Looking for something in particular?” A young man asked me, tapping me on the shoulder.

Startled, I whirled around in my seat to stare at him for a few seconds before realizing he had asked me a question and was expecting an answer.

“Well, I was hoping for cheap housing,” I shrugged as he smiled and sat down in the plush red chair opposite me.

“In Berkeley? There should be plenty,” he told me, glancing at my untouched cup of cold coffee sitting next to me on the table.

“Well then help me find it. Cuz I guess I’m just not looking right.” I muttered, shoving the paper at him.

He held it out in front of him, studying it intently for a few short seconds before a look of triumph crossed his face.

“Aha! There. Told ya,” he grinned, pointing to an add reading:

Two bedroom one bath house for rent. Price negociatable. Call 555-1893.

“But that requires haggling,” I pointed out.

“Well you never know until you try- Didn’t quite catch you name,” He winked at me.

“Charlie,” I allowed, extending my hand which he reached to shake, but instead I grabbed the newspaper back, circling the add with the stolen pen from Mike’s.

“So what exactly are you doing?” He asked, indicating the two awkward looking suitcases next to me.

“Moving here,” I shrugged, getting up to leave.

“Well good luck. Maybe I’ll run into you again sometime,” He nodded to me as I grabbed my suitcases and left the little hole in the wall coffee shop.

I dragged the luggage (which seemed to be growing heavier by the minute) to the nearest pay phone. There I used the last bit of change to dial the number on the ad.

“Hello?” Asked an elderly voice.

“Hi. I’m calling about your ad for the house for rent,” I told him, drumming my fingers absentmindedly on the glass enclosing the pay phone. Something I must have picked up from Tre`.

“Oh yeah. I was wondering whether anyone would call about that house. I’ll just have my grandson meet you there in say two hours?” He asked in a raspy voice.

“Well I’m brand new here. I have no idea where it is,” I pointed out, not exactly sure what I was asking for as I spoke.

“Well then I’ll just have my grandson meet you at the pizza place on Third. You know where that is?” He asked, with a tone of indifference.

“Great. Thanks,” I said surprisingly unsarcastically before hanging up the phone with a resounding click from the metal phone rest.

I continued down the street with my bags in tow, feeling my stomach grumble more with ever step. I realized I’d made a mistake when I’d eaten the PopTarts as I clutched my stomach and leaned into the bushes on the sidewalk.

“C’mon you bum. Move along,” a jerk with jet black hair told me as I let my stomach empty into the bush.

“After you,” I grumbled giving him a proud finger before wiping my mouth and trying to continue navigating to Third Street.

***

I downed my fifth soda in two gulps. Thank god for free refills. As soon as I’d come in I knew I had to have a Cherry-Sprite-Pepsi with some parmesan cheese. It was so good.

I glanced at the clock on my way to another soda. He was twenty minutes late. Then again, I should be use to this. Mike had never been on time. Then again I bet the add was just a hoax to see what kind of loser would show up to get a nonexistent house.

On my way back to my table I spotted a familiar head of acid green dyed hair. I studied it for a minute before I saw the icy blue eyes I’d gotten lost in so often. Forgetting to breathe, I hurtled myself back to into my seat, shrinking back into the seat, desperately hoping he hadn’t seen me.

Instead I saw three heads, red, green , and blond sit down in the booth behind mine, and I waited. I was trapped. I couldn’t afford to let him, or any of them, see me. If I did that they’d demand an explanation and, knowing me, I was liable to give them one. Then I would done all this for nothing.

“Dude, it wasn’t your fault,” I heard Tre`s comforting voice tell what I assumed to be Mike.

“I just don’t know what happened. Everything seemed to be going fine-then- I dunno,” Mike seemed to cry out.

I clutched my heart as it did a somersault for him.

“It wasn’t anything you did,” Tre` confide and I skipped a breath.

“How can you be so fucking sure?” Mike demanded as I barely managed to suppress the urge to go over and wrap my arms around him.

“Yeah,” Billie Joe piped in, apparently wanting to be included, but at a loss as to what to say.

“Way to be supportive,” Tre` whispered to Billie Joe before turning to face Mike again, “Just trust me on this. The way she left indicates she was running from something. I don’t think her leaving had anything to do with you,” he said, lying his ass off.

“All I have now is this hat she left behind and a handful of memories,” Mike choked and I felt tears welling up in my own eyes, still carefully hidden behind the red sparkly plastic booth seat.

“I think it’s just gonna have to do. I’m sorry buddy,” Billie Joe said quietly.

“FUCK!!!” Mike screamed, jumping up and I quivered, afraid he’d spotted me, “I fell in love with her. I’m still in love with her! How could she do this to me?! How?!” He cried before bolting across the restraint and out the door.

“Damn. I really hope he makes it through this,” Billie Joe whispered to Tre` as they slid out of the booth.

“You and me both. She smashed his heart into a million pieces. I hope she makes it through too though,” Tre` murmured, running to catch up with Billie Joe who was running down the street screaming after Mike.