Walk With Me

Part 2: Rusty, Dented, and Barely Functional

It's been a week since I visited Tits. She hasn't left me any messages too. Which does not bother me. We don't expect each other to be available 24/7. Tomorrow is Sunday. I'm thinking of visiting her. She lives in a rented apartment down the alley of Applewood street. You can find all sorts of junkies and convicts living there. Why does she live there you may ask? That's because that's the cheapest of the apartments here in NYC. She lives alone not because she has to but because she loves to. Yes, even in the area where you don't know which second somebody's going to grab you from your back and give you a lifetime of trauma and long-wished therapy sessions if you're lucky to make it out alive in the first place. But as you walk down from the apartment building there is a hot dog stand on the other side of the road. Nothing so special about his hot dogs, just plain dogs in a bun with ketchup squirted on top of it but the guy is pretty nice. Always greets me with a smile and asks me how I'm doing. I don't like it. Just give me my damn dog and have your money but he's nice so whatever. I really don't know why I think about a random hot dog-selling guy so much ugh.

*phone rings*

I try to grab my phone while lying down on my couch. I don't wanna get up so I try to stretch my arm a bit to grab the phone that I mistakenly threw earlier on the floor and didn't bother to pick up. As I stretch my arm further to grab it I end up falling on the wooden floor. My knee hurts so bad I manage to pick up the phone before it stops ringing and the first thing I say is "fuck me". "OMG okay!" she replies laughingly. "I fell" I replied annoyingly. "Fell in love with me!" she shouts. "What's up?" I said while rubbing my knee. "Nothing, just come visit me," she said casually. "Alright, it's not like I have a life of my own and a shit ton of work to do," I said irritatingly. I'm not sarcastic I really mean it. I don't have a life anymore except for munching junk and binge-watching weird-ass shows on T.V. I mean, not all of them are weird. Actually, none of them are weird. They are good shows that's why I watch them.

I get up from the floor deciding to take a shower. These are some painful steps towards the bathroom not because of my knee but because I have a lot of crumbles and plastic wrappers of my snacks. I'm not a dirty person but I just feel safe with loads of trash lying around me. It's like I have company. But I hate stepping on food. "Man I needa clean" I said to myself. After a cold shower, I'm feeling awake. With a towel wrapped around my body, I make my way toward my tiny kitchen. Unlike the rest of the house, my kitchen is very clean that's because I rarely cook anything. Half of the time it's gas station junk and the other half I eat out. I start brewing some coffee. I want to look fresh when I meet her because one of us needs to be not-so-tired for the other tired person and with the fact that she gave me a call she sure as hell is tired. Although she sounded pretty casual but we know each other better than the rest of the world. I know she isn't feeling good. I made my way towards my bedroom after setting the coffee for brewing. I find a shirt and pants from my last laundry on top of the clean pile of my clothes that I forgot to hang and fold. I throw some gel in my hair and put on deodorant and we're good to go.

As I was about to lock my door I hear a door closing nearby. I look to my left only to find a face my heart would hurt at a million dols to look at. I quickly put my keys to the lock but the embarrassing amount of clanging that she must've heard and then looked at me is making me want to burn to ashes right here at this exact moment. After double-locking which felt like an eternity, I turn to my right hurrying towards the elevator to reach the ground floor. I get in and punch in the buttons as fast as I could. As the elevator door opens with a sharp "cling" to the ground floor, I finally breathe. My heart is still pounding like it would climb out of my chest at any moment. Crazy how some people are capable of controlling us this way. Although it's not my first time seeing her here but every time it feels the same. I find my car standing in the parking lot. A rusty, dented, and barely-functional Toyota Corolla, yep that's it. That's my car. I'm not even embarrassed by the amount of dirt and mud that's been sitting on my car for months. It represents me. Rusty, dented, and barely-functional.