bluesday

This morning when I was making tea, a stranger came out of Jane’s room. Someone who looked like a cross between K-Fed and the Ghost of Meth Dealer Present. I spent last night researching jobs at the public library, so I had no idea she’d had a guy sleep over. They must have come in after I went to sleep.

He plopped down into a kitchen chair with a kind of half-nod to me, and spread his legs out in only a pair of gross boxers. I try not to judge people by appearances, but I felt really uncomfortable about this guy’s vibes, and even more uncomfortable that Jane had not run this houseguest by me first. He asked me if I had any coffee and I told him “no” and then he just lit a cigarette in the kitchen like it was nothing. I said um, we don’t smoke in our house, and he looked at me with this icy expression and put the cigarette out on the linoleum floor, which thankfully did not make a mark. That sent me to the edge, so it was all I could do not to pick the cigarette up off the floor and relight it in my own mouth. I slammed the door to the bathroom, slapped a nic patch onto my butt, then ran out of the back door, Jane calling behind me.

After I was on the road I called Ford on my cell. He wanted me to come over to his apartment because he said it sounded like I needed to vent.

Ford had to go to class after an hour, so he’s letting me use the computer at his apartment. Ford’s gorgeous loft apartment. In an old warehouse with a brushed steel bar and Ipod speakers exhuding Billie Holiday from every corner. Not a bad way to spend a Monday morning.

I’ve left three messages on Jane’s cell, but she hasn’t called back. I wish job searching was the least of my worries right now…

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One Response

  1. He put the cigarette out on the floor?? That would throw me over the edge. I probably would have said, “Give me your pack and your lighter, and never come back”, then gone somewhere to steal a much-needed cigarette.

    I lived with these two women for two years. One was in a committed relationship, and he was always over. That was fine. The other had as many as three strangers over per week, never to see or hear from them again. God, I hated it. The lowest was probably this one guy who chewed tobacco (ew!) and then wiped his grubby brown fingers on my white couch. The stains are still there.

    Anyway, I enjoyed your post and your blog. Thanks….

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