The Foreigner

Chapter 12

In the afternoon I roam Broadway looking for her tattoo parlor. When I find it, I park in the first available space. I look forward to talking to her. I enter the store. The environment is very clean. Walls lined with somewhat creepy designs. An instrumental rock sound is the background soundtrack, very low without disturbing. I approach the small counter. A strong man tattooed on his arms with a reamer on his ears answers me. Despite his rude appearance, his expression is friendly.

-Good afternoon. How can I help you? -He asks me.

-Uh ... I'd like to talk to Heidi. She is?

- At the moment she's busy.

-I can wait for her then.

I wait for half an hour flipping through magazines without much interest. Customers arrive. Customers leave. Finally she appears.

- Mr. Whitman. -she approaches.

-Heidi. - I get up

-What do you want here?

-Need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere else?

-I'm already going home. We can talk there.

-Perfect! I can take you- I get excited.

-OK. But first I need to pass the market.

-Okay.

***

She picks up some packets of cookies from the shelf. But most of the purchase is alcoholic beverages.

-I think that's enough. -She counts the amount of drinks she's taking.

- Are you having a party?

-Not. They are for me. I need to restock my fridge.

We got to her house. She takes the drinks to the fridge. Take two bottles of beer that were already there and offers one to me.

-And then what do you want to talk about? - She asks leaning against the sink.

-It's about the last night we were together. I didn't want it to be that way. Excuse me.

-Okay. -she answers me before putting the bottle to her mouth.

-Okay? – I got surprised

-Uh-huh -she replies, finishing her beer.

-Weren't you upset? Disappointed?

-At the time yes. But it's over.

-So all this time you don't...

-Not. No. I think it was another momentary frustration.

She goes into the living room and I follow her.

-I am relieved. I thought we wouldn't see each other anymore.

-Would that be bad? - she sits on the couch

-Of course yes. It would be terrible. –I whisper -The same night I had a dream about you.

-I know it. -I stare at her, taken aback by her answer. What does it mean "she knows"?

-Do you know?

-It's a joke, Mr. Whitman! You always take everything so seriously! Well what about the dream? Was it good?

-It was really scary.

-Do you want to tell me?

-It was a little confusing. I don't think you would understand.

-Okay. Anyway, it's good to know that I'm in your dreams. -She smiles teasingly, as if she really knows what I dreamed.

-Well, I think I should go. - I prepare to get up

-Not! Stay Mister Whitman!

-Are you sure? Suddenly your boyfriend shows up and he may think that we...

-Not. He is not coming today. It's wrapped up in his father's business.

I settle back in my chair.

-You haven't seen each other much lately, have you?

-Yeah. It's been a little tough, since his dad is integrating him into business.

-Have you missed him?

-Yes. I have.

-How did you two meet?

-Internet.

-You must like him very much, don't you?

-Yes ... Yes ... I like- she does not show firmness in the answer.

-What do your parents think of you together?

-My mother doesn't know much about him. But she wants to meet him. She insists that I take him when I visit her.

-And what about your father? What does he think?

-My father doesn't care. -The disappointment is visible on his face. -He doesn't care. -He turns the bottle over.

-Why you say that?

- I'm not exaggerating. He never cared about me. Not even with my mother. Work has always been the priority and we have been in the background.

-May you're not being fair. Maybe he sacrificed himself for your welfare.

-This is what he says. I wish I could believe that. But it was not so. He didn't even realize that I had grown up. Until recently he still thought I was a little girl. And want to know more? Since I came to America, he never even called me.

-Then you think your father doesn't love you?

- I think he's a selfish man. He only cares about his interests. Who loves cares for another. You want to know if it's ok. I'm not talking about money, but about being interested in me. Know who I relate to.

Hearing her speech, I wonder if Cat thinks the same about me. Did Lorraine think so too? My God, what did I do? Best, what didn't I do?

She gets up wrapping up the subject:

-Let's mix the drinks. -she says excitedly into the kitchen.

She puts fruits on the counter and takes all the stored drinks she has and makes some blends in the blender. Like vodka-milk-lemon, vodka-milk-cherry among other mixes and beats.

Seeing her mixes condensed milk with wine I ask:

-What is it? What will you do?

-You will see.