The Year My Mother Left me

Part 3-Bongs and Burritos

My First Date

I've now had sex seven times and taken ecstasy four times. I think about this and I watch Miloh as he makes his way through Paco's Tacos. I stare at his handsome, olive-toned profile and wonder why the ecstasy is so much better than the sex. It's not supposed to be that way. Is it? I waive the thoughts away- I can't lose my focus, not now; not at this key moment.

Pay for my meal Miloh. You're going to pay for my meal. My eyes burn holes in the back of Miloh's head as I try to hypnotise him from behind. He makes his way past the burrito toppings counter and over to the the cashier. I feel like he is quickening his pace and hurrying away from me so I speed up too, foregoing onions and sour cream. I catch up with him and nudge my tray close to his. Then I make eye contact with the cashier, as if to say 'we're together.' The cashier ignores me; she knows this game.

"Will that be all?" she asks, demonstratively looking at his tray only. Bitch.

"Yup," says Miloh casually. He smiles at the cashier, fumbles in his pockets and looks at the wall.

"Miloh," I say quietly. I nudge my tray into his so hard it's like the Titanic hitting its iceberg. "We're on a date, remember?"

"Oh yeah, sorry," he coughs as if he only just noticed me there, and with all the greed and reluctance in the world he tells the cashier- "and this too."

The cashier rings up the whole order and looks at me with contempt; as if I don't deserve a free fucking burrito. I have sex with him! I want to scream at her. And my mom left on a three week business trip, and that was three and a half months ago. And I have no money! I deserve this Burrito! I want to yell all of this at her and then shove my burrito down her fat, caterpillar-like neck but I don't; that wouldn't be normal.

I need Miloh to pay for my meal for three reasons: one, my mom raised me to believe that men should pay, two, we are on our first ever 'date' and the movies taught me that men pay at those, and three, I don't actually have any money to pay for myself. I used the last of my Jazzed up Juice salary on utilities; that we citizens of the earth have to pay for water is news to me.

The last three quarters in my pocket are like stones pulling me to the bottom of a lake.

A big fat lake full of expensive water.

The free burrito does not lift my spirits.

***

I'm at home alone. I just had sex with Miloh again; it seems he needed to justify his spending of 3.50$ and swung in for an unplanned retribution quickie. Thank god I didn't order the surcharge guacamole or I might have had to perform my first ever blowjob. I'm suddenly filled with a deep hatred for Miloh and I have to remind myself that sleeping with him feels safer than sleeping alone, that he has beautiful raven hair and plump, heart-shaped lips. I can ignore the rest easily enough.

I told him I loved him in German this time. I speak four languages and I can lie to him in three of them and still feel like I'm telling the truth. Spencer growled so loudly through the slit of the closed door that I had to drop him off at Zina's before he tore Miloh's head off. The sex was about as good and as dry as the burrito. As I make my way downstairs to pick up spencer from Zina's I crash into something hard. A moment later the ground is littered with fat shards of colourful glass, it's like a battlefield of marbles. My bong! I broke my brand new turquoise bong that I bought downtown with the last of my money; a pick me up gift to myself.

I kick at the shards angrily. How many fucking things am I supposed to lose? My mom, my virginity, my brand new bong. I curse whatever gods above that just want me to keep losing stuff.