Loser

Chapter 3 - Spaghetti

I don't think I'd ever been this excited to go home. As I showed the bus driver my city bus pass, my hands shook with impatience. He nodded at me and I quickly took a seat closest to the door so I could get off as quickly as possible. My leg bounced up and down as I waited for the rest of the people to load themselves onto the bus. My mind circled and circled around pictures of Jane and how nice it felt to know that someone was at home waiting eagerly for me to return.

As the bus began to crawl away from my stop and down the road, I realized something. I didn't know how to play guitar. I frowned to myself. Up until this moment all that I could think about was restoring Jane so that I could play her. But I hadn't realized that I wouldn't know the first thing about playing a guitar.

I didn't know anyone who played. A couple of the indie rock seniors played at lunch everyday but that was obviously out of the question. No friends to speak of anyways so... wait. The druggie behind the liquor store. He had to know how to play. After all he was the one who'd given me Jane. Maybe...

Sighing, I watched the scenery race past outside my window. As we turned onto the freeway, I thought about how I was going to do this. Mom wouldn't notice if I was gone so long as I didn't wake her up. I still needed money to fix the guitar but I guess I could just pretend to need food money and when she gave it to me, I could go out for a while and then stash it later. If that worked out, then I should have Jane done within six months... hopefully. Maybe the druggie could give me an estimate.

------Later------

I nearly smashed the front door to pieces I ran through it so fast. Some secret, self-loathing part of me was in denial that something good had finally happened to me. In some way, I didn't think that Jane could be real. I didn't deserve her.

But as my bedroom door banged open, there she was.

In the short few hours away, I think I had forgotten how beat up Jane was. I hadn't remembered her with quite so many cracks and scratches. Not that many strings missing. Squatting on the floor I shoved my backpack into the corner and quickly kicked the door closed with my foot. Jane lay right where I'd left her this morning.

Carefully, I reached out one hand and stroked her side. My hand came away with the lightest of dust films. Scooting closer I touched the front of the guitar again, fearing that she would disappear beneath my caress. She didn't. She remained, strong and real.

Awkwardly, I cleared my throat and retracted my hand. I scratched the back of my head, unsure of what to do next. Then I remembered my earlier wish, to tell Jane about my day. However, doing was a lot harder than saying.

"Um..." another throat clearing. "I um... I guess I feel kinda weird talking to a guitar." No response of course. "This is uhhh.... I guess this could count as the first time I've ever had a girl in my room." Immediately, I slapped my forehead. What?! Why the hell would I say that?

"Sorry um... so... I don't really know how to play guitar. But I promise to fix you up. It's just gonna take some time 'cause, you know, money and stuff." I leaned against my bed and twiddled my thumbs. Jane just sat still and silent. Frustrated, I ran my hands over my face. This was insane. I was talking to a guitar in my room... by myself. Suddenly, the delayed stress of the entire day came back to me.

And just like that I knew what to talk about. I knew what I needed to talk about.

"I punched a bully today. His name is Brigs and he tripped me while we were running. If I had broken something, we couldn't have been able to afford getting me a cast. Mom doesn't have health insurance." I shook my head and looked away from the guitar to the opposite wall of my bedroom. "There's this girl at school too. Her name's Haley. She gorgeous. The president of the Community Service club, and she's class president. She's really sweet too. Not to me of course, but no one's nice to me so that doesn't really count. Anyways I was checking her out today and she caught me staring at her ass. She's got a great ass. I love her, Jane. I really do." Saying the guitar's name out loud somehow made her snap into focus. She became more real, more substantial.