Love Among the Pizza Boxes

God…
Oh, Lord.
I sit back down on my couch.
And for the first time in six days, I feel alone.
I feel more alone than I have felt in a long, long time.
And my head hurts.
It hurts a lot.
It feels heavier than usual, and when I turn it from side to side, it lolls.
I’m in my car now.
Fred is in the passengers’ seat. His face is sorta sagging.
I grab him and pineapple juice squishes out.
I toss him out of my car and drive away.
I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know why I’m going there.
I don’t know.
So I park.
And I sit there for a second with my hand on the key, but I don’t turn the ignition off.
…
I look up at the sky.
It’s gray. Very gray. The clouds look heavy.
I press my face against the window.
The window is cold. Very cold.
I take a deep breath and turn the ignition off. Then I stare at the steering wheel for a while.
Then I get out of my car and go into the nearest store.
It smells like dogs and urine.
I look around and see animals and brightly colored toys. Everywhere.
I walk to the first window I see and stare into it. Inside a jittery Chihuahua tackles a very fluffy dog, whose breed I don’t recognize.
A lady with long mousy brown hair walks up to me. She’s wearing glasses and a ‘do-rag and an apron.
She’s lovingly stroking a parrot.
“Hello,” I say to her in a voice that’s quiet. Very quiet.
She smiles a knowing smile at me.
I don’t like that smile.
She doesn’t know my life.
“Hello there,” she says back.
I poke the glass on the window and the jittery Chihuahua scampers over and tries to bite the glass. “I want that one.”
The woman simply nods and goes into the back.
I watch as hands and arms enter the cage from behind and scoop up the little dog.
The woman hands the dog to me.
“Be careful with her – she’s a real handful.”
That sounds vaguely familiar.
I try to smile, but end up looking like I’m constipated. So I stop trying to smile and I just nod.
A little while later, I’m carrying the little Chihuahua out to my car, along with a bag of dog food and other essentials the woman had insisted on giving me.
I set her down on my lap and close the door.
She puts her paws on my chest and licks my face.
I pet her behind the ears.
Then I start to think about names.
And by the time I begin to drive by the grocery store parking lot, I come up with the perfect name.
So I walk into the grocery store with my dog in the crook of my arm, and I come back out of the store with a dog tag in my other hand.
When we get back in the car, I tie the tag around her neck with some yarn that I found under the seat a while back.
“Hello, Virginity,” I say to her.
She barks once and licks my face some more.
I probably looked really gay walking into the store with her.
But I don’t care.
Maybe I will be gay.
Maybe it’d be easier.
No.
Maybe.
NO.
No.
It’s settled. I’m not gay.
I’ll never be gay.
I’ll just forever be a bachelor.
I get back to the apartment complex and pass the pool on my way to my building.
Morgan Freeman – I mean, Joe – pokes his head out of the janitors’ closet and sees me.
I wave.
Virginity barks.
Morgan Freeman waddles his way over to me. He smiles a knowing smile, too.
He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t look so good,” he says to me.
I shrug. Virginity barks again and scratches my wrist trying to get at Morgan Freeman.
“She’s really pissed off at me now,” I tell him.
“Why is that?”
“Kairi told her.”
Morgan Freeman nods sullenly, then looks at the sky.
A raindrop falls on my nose.
When I look back down from the sky, Morgan Freeman is gone.
Virginity claws her way up to my face and licks my cheek.
She and I pass the doorman, who’s still reading Jane Austen.
He looks at me. Then he looks at Virginity. Then he looks at me again and shakes his head.
He returns to his book without a word.
I flip him off again and walk upstairs.
Virginity growls at him.