Part 3
The week floated by yet the incessant thought of Mario's confession flooded me.
With all the birds that eat from his hand and the theologians that swim in his lake, why me?
Why did he pick me to unload his burden?
Bouncing between hurt and anger I tried to come to terms with his need to tell me.
Is it because I fall in love with a different girl every few months and cry myself to sleep the rest of the year?
Did he believe that because I don't spend the night, that made me a heartless Casanova?
I was having that eerie feeling that I was being used, I was a means to an end.
I was a friend from the past why unearth me to be the confidant?
These ideas swam around and around, they were the great white in my head.
He made me feel dirty.
His white glove world and yet his shame sought my free spirit.
I met Susy for a cortadito at Holiday Bakery around eleven in the morning.
She was the fresh apple I was now dating, code for my next heart break.
We had met a few weeks back during happy hours at Hillstone's in the Gables, a local meat market without any prime rib or filets, if you get my drift.
She is a realtor with a lot of free time and mid morning coffee was right up her alley.
I was asking about her leads for this new year, just making small talk.
She began to tell me about a few properties on the river, probably picking up on my disinterest she flipped the conversation around.
"How's your Pulitzer coming," she asked in a sour tone.
Matter of factly I said, "I am writing a novel about a fall from grace of epic proportions."
I don't know if my disgust with Mario or my need for a bullshit line to shoot Susy's sassiness down but in a blink of an eye my next novel bubbled to the surface.
Mario wanted to use me and I would juice Mario.
To be continued.
