Just a Freak
Hot Patootie Part 2
What was I supposed to say?
Nothing.
"Riley," he whispered. "I know you're mad at me. I'm sorry."
I pursed my lips together to form a thin line; I wasn't saying anything.
"Riley, please. I'm sorry. I was an idiot, okay? Please. C'mon. There's something I want to tell you."
My curiousity won over my better judgment. I glanced at him and set down my grilled cheese.
He was a fucking mess. I don't think he got any sleep last night. He was wearing the clothes he had had on yesterday and hadn't shaved. Just standing there, staring down at me.
Pathetic.
"Riley, I was thinking a lot last night," he said with bags under his eyes. "Really. Listen, I can't take it here anymore. This place is driving me off the wall. Really, it is."
I looked back down at my sandwich.
"I was thinking maybe...maybe...remember how I told you I wanted to get a motorcycle?"
Hot Patootie.
I nodded.
"I was thinking maybe I could get it soon...and maybe you and I could get outta here."
I didn't look up from my food.
"Are you serious?" I said to him quietly. "Do you really think I'd want to go somewhere with you after last night?"
Silence.
"Riley, I'm serious," he said. "I told you, I'm sorry. I want you to come with me. Please."
"And go where, Derek?" I demanded. "New York City? After three days your bike will be stolen, you'll get hooked on heroin and become a street hustler. What difference would it make if I was with you?"
God. I think I really might have hurt him.
"Well...well...Riley," he stuttered. "You're different from everyone else that I've met."
"Then why did last night happen?"
"Because--because--I don't know!" He shouted.
Heads turned.
"I don't know why I do things, okay? I don't know, alright?"
"I'm not going anywhere with you, Donner," I said, my voice quivering. "I'm not."
"Fuck!" He kicked the stool across from me in rage as he stormed away. "Fuck!" I heard him shout again.
"Riley," whispered a girl passing me, who's name I didn't know/didn't care about. "What did you say to him?"
"None," I picked my foam lunch tray up to toss it out. "Off your fucking business."
Nothing.
"Riley," he whispered. "I know you're mad at me. I'm sorry."
I pursed my lips together to form a thin line; I wasn't saying anything.
"Riley, please. I'm sorry. I was an idiot, okay? Please. C'mon. There's something I want to tell you."
My curiousity won over my better judgment. I glanced at him and set down my grilled cheese.
He was a fucking mess. I don't think he got any sleep last night. He was wearing the clothes he had had on yesterday and hadn't shaved. Just standing there, staring down at me.
Pathetic.
"Riley, I was thinking a lot last night," he said with bags under his eyes. "Really. Listen, I can't take it here anymore. This place is driving me off the wall. Really, it is."
I looked back down at my sandwich.
"I was thinking maybe...maybe...remember how I told you I wanted to get a motorcycle?"
Hot Patootie.
I nodded.
"I was thinking maybe I could get it soon...and maybe you and I could get outta here."
I didn't look up from my food.
"Are you serious?" I said to him quietly. "Do you really think I'd want to go somewhere with you after last night?"
Silence.
"Riley, I'm serious," he said. "I told you, I'm sorry. I want you to come with me. Please."
"And go where, Derek?" I demanded. "New York City? After three days your bike will be stolen, you'll get hooked on heroin and become a street hustler. What difference would it make if I was with you?"
God. I think I really might have hurt him.
"Well...well...Riley," he stuttered. "You're different from everyone else that I've met."
"Then why did last night happen?"
"Because--because--I don't know!" He shouted.
Heads turned.
"I don't know why I do things, okay? I don't know, alright?"
"I'm not going anywhere with you, Donner," I said, my voice quivering. "I'm not."
"Fuck!" He kicked the stool across from me in rage as he stormed away. "Fuck!" I heard him shout again.
"Riley," whispered a girl passing me, who's name I didn't know/didn't care about. "What did you say to him?"
"None," I picked my foam lunch tray up to toss it out. "Off your fucking business."
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