A Cockroach in Brooklyn - A Darkly Amusing Short Story

3. A Cockroach in Brooklyn - Getting to Know my Roommate

Thurs Feb 23

I've lived in this "railroad" apartment for five years. A railroad apartment was a popular style in early 1900s Brooklyn - a long, thin row of rooms, patched together like train cars, no doors, just sections. Here, in this apartment, I re-fell in love with my ex, Luciano. Unplanned, unexpected, electrifying.

It happened all of a sudden, our three years of separation dissolved into a hiccup of time and space. We crashed and re-emerged together-as-one, dissipating shockwaves into the universe hundreds of millions of lightyears away. But it wasn't just the orgasms...

We were together twice for a total of seven years over a period of ten years (with a three year break in the middle). That's a long investment of life, considering I was never paid for my time. That's called an internship AKA "an unpaid learning experience'.  And I learned. I learned to recognize BS and call it. I learned that the 'true love' featured in a little girl's fantasies is ripped from her hands when she grows up. No one published the second book in the series, what happens after "happily ever after." After Charming is done woo'ing, wed-ing and bedding his virgin, he rolls over and falls asleep. He snores loudly. Soon Charming is chasing ugly sisters. Looking for unconquered boobs.  Who wants to read that to a kid at bedtime? 

You know, I didn't know there was so much more to Sid than a portioned pouch of goo in a crispy brown shell. Google informs me that Sid has a tiny weeny little brain, a miniscule thumping heart, a colon, a whole bloody reproductive system, guts, esophagus, gastric caeca (huh?), fat cells, salivary glands and malpighian tubules (OK, those are his shit pipes, but how much can one mite shit in a a lifetime?)

Fri, Feb 24

I didn't see Sid yesterday. Maybe I scared him off for good with all that swatting. Or maybe he chocked on Borax powder down below. 

But today, I thought I saw him behind the soap dispenser, then scuttle away when my shadow loomed. Hmm..he looked about the same size, but really I can't tell that it's Sid unless he's chilling in his regular spot with his un-species-like behavior. It's not like he has a nose ring and a "Mom" tattoo so I can recognize him. Of course, he probably never even laid eyes (feelers) on his mom. She laid a hairball of eggs in a tight spot and left him and his siblings to do-or-die. Which was probably fortunate: a human mother's smile may signify eternal love; while an insect mother's toothy grin means "Yum, a cute snack". Maybe it's the evolutionary fear of filicide that gives cockroaches their flighty nature. Though it's possible Sid has abandonment issues. Maybe I have more in common with this little guy than I thought.

After our second attempt at "forever", Luciano left me this time around the carousel.  But this time, I'm no single with tingles in the right places like the first time.  The first time, I felt happy to be free, going out dancing with the girlfriends, getting drunk and brazen in Brooklyn. Karma, I shoulda expected your high-kick to the teeth.  When we fell in love Part Two, no niggling gut feeing told me to poke two fingers into those deep chestnut puppy dog eyes which threatened to turn me mushy in the mind again. Or stifle his adoring words, which fluttered around my ego, pierced my heart and make a beeline towards my --

"What?" I asked. I wasn't sure I heard correctly. 

"I was depressed for a long time after you moved out," he was leaning back on my loveseat sofa, one leg up on the coffee table, next to our empty wine glasses. (He was talking about our first breakup) His eyes flickered to mine, sneaking a peek at my reaction, then adjusted his position to conceal embarrassment. 

"You never told me that." I was surprised to hear he had been so deeply affected by our break-up. Whenever I had seen him over the years - for instance, when I had asked him for help recording sound effects for my amateur short film - he had seemed his usual happy-go-lucky self. I got no sense of his interest in me as more than a friend, a really good friend, whom I could always depend on, no matter how much time had passed.