That Doesn't Mean I Love You
002
I sat in taco bell, looking down at the food in front of my face.
I used two dollars.
I got two tacos.
I suddenly wasn’t hungry.
People were looking at me and whispering. There were a few bruises on my neck and arms; they had every reason to look. I wasn’t strong enough tot tell them to look away. I just let them stare as I stared at my food in front of me. Suddenly I stood up and grabbed the tacos, and ran out the door, my face feeling red and hot, my eyes burning with hate.
I walked against a line of stores, dogs barking in the distance, the smell of wet street filling my nose. A beggar asked me for spare change and pushed the tacos into is hands with a small smile.
”God bless you sir, god bless you…” he called out to me and I looked at my feet frustrated. How can God love me by one man’s words, but hate me by the next?
I was out of cigarettes, I was out of food, I was out of energy. I walked to the front of an old apartment complex, the place falling apart and creaking. I walked inside, the lights dim and blue against my skin, and walked up a flight of stairs to apartment 623. I opened the door with my hand and walked in, shutting it tightly behind me.
It was one room, it was trashed, it was cold, it was broken. There was a hold in our one window, there wasn’t any insulation, the lights hardly worked, we had no furniture. It was our apartment. If you can really call it that.
”Where’s Clyde?” I said out loud, walking over to the other man in the apartment as he stared longingly out the window, cigarette pulled tightly to his lips.
His deep hazel eyes snapped to me, red and weary and he put the cigarette out against the windowsill, running a hand back through his think black hair.
”He said he went out to find you,” he mumbled, pulling the leather jacket up onto his shoulders more, his frail figure losing it self inside his clothes.
”He did, then he told me not to expect him back tonight,” I said looking out the window. There was a girl getting out of her car. I then knew he had been watching her.
”Then don’t expect him back, and leave him at that. He obviously didn’t want you to know, Matthew,” he said looking back out the window at the girl, his eyes following her inside a different apartment complex, parallel to ours.
I walked away from the window and picked a sweater up from the floor and smelt it. “This isn’t one of ours,” I said slowly, looking up at him, clutching it against my chest. It was made of wool, and it was warm.
”So? Neither is that shirt you’re wearing,” he said pointing out the ripped black shirt I had on.
I slipped the sweater on over my shoulders. It smelt like a girl. I didn’t want to know whom. It smelt like sex, and fear.
”Rose?” I chirped up, walking over behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and leaning my head against his shoulder, looking over it outside again.
”What?” he snapped, leaning against the windowsill, letting me lean against him, collecting the little warmth his body gave out.
”Uh,” I never really knew what to say to him; it was always hard to talk to him, to get through to him. “I got a lot of money today.”
”That’s cool,” he said and then broke free of my grasp. He took my hand and pulled me into him, kissing me gently, then giving a half hearted smile, to pretend like he meant it.
He walked away from me and grabbed the stuck from my pocket, taking a fifty and kissing me again, shoving the rest into my pocket.
”I’ll be back later, don’t wait up for me.” He told me in my ear then made for the door and with a click of the heels, he was gone.
I sat down slowly on the floor where we had a few blankets and pillows and crawled underneath them, my head resting on one of the pillows, wrapping my arms tightly around another. I was sore.
Sometimes I wished I wouldn’t wake up in the morning.
Sometimes, I didn’t.
I used two dollars.
I got two tacos.
I suddenly wasn’t hungry.
People were looking at me and whispering. There were a few bruises on my neck and arms; they had every reason to look. I wasn’t strong enough tot tell them to look away. I just let them stare as I stared at my food in front of me. Suddenly I stood up and grabbed the tacos, and ran out the door, my face feeling red and hot, my eyes burning with hate.
I walked against a line of stores, dogs barking in the distance, the smell of wet street filling my nose. A beggar asked me for spare change and pushed the tacos into is hands with a small smile.
”God bless you sir, god bless you…” he called out to me and I looked at my feet frustrated. How can God love me by one man’s words, but hate me by the next?
I was out of cigarettes, I was out of food, I was out of energy. I walked to the front of an old apartment complex, the place falling apart and creaking. I walked inside, the lights dim and blue against my skin, and walked up a flight of stairs to apartment 623. I opened the door with my hand and walked in, shutting it tightly behind me.
It was one room, it was trashed, it was cold, it was broken. There was a hold in our one window, there wasn’t any insulation, the lights hardly worked, we had no furniture. It was our apartment. If you can really call it that.
”Where’s Clyde?” I said out loud, walking over to the other man in the apartment as he stared longingly out the window, cigarette pulled tightly to his lips.
His deep hazel eyes snapped to me, red and weary and he put the cigarette out against the windowsill, running a hand back through his think black hair.
”He said he went out to find you,” he mumbled, pulling the leather jacket up onto his shoulders more, his frail figure losing it self inside his clothes.
”He did, then he told me not to expect him back tonight,” I said looking out the window. There was a girl getting out of her car. I then knew he had been watching her.
”Then don’t expect him back, and leave him at that. He obviously didn’t want you to know, Matthew,” he said looking back out the window at the girl, his eyes following her inside a different apartment complex, parallel to ours.
I walked away from the window and picked a sweater up from the floor and smelt it. “This isn’t one of ours,” I said slowly, looking up at him, clutching it against my chest. It was made of wool, and it was warm.
”So? Neither is that shirt you’re wearing,” he said pointing out the ripped black shirt I had on.
I slipped the sweater on over my shoulders. It smelt like a girl. I didn’t want to know whom. It smelt like sex, and fear.
”Rose?” I chirped up, walking over behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and leaning my head against his shoulder, looking over it outside again.
”What?” he snapped, leaning against the windowsill, letting me lean against him, collecting the little warmth his body gave out.
”Uh,” I never really knew what to say to him; it was always hard to talk to him, to get through to him. “I got a lot of money today.”
”That’s cool,” he said and then broke free of my grasp. He took my hand and pulled me into him, kissing me gently, then giving a half hearted smile, to pretend like he meant it.
He walked away from me and grabbed the stuck from my pocket, taking a fifty and kissing me again, shoving the rest into my pocket.
”I’ll be back later, don’t wait up for me.” He told me in my ear then made for the door and with a click of the heels, he was gone.
I sat down slowly on the floor where we had a few blankets and pillows and crawled underneath them, my head resting on one of the pillows, wrapping my arms tightly around another. I was sore.
Sometimes I wished I wouldn’t wake up in the morning.
Sometimes, I didn’t.