Chocolate vanilla, part 2

Please read the first part of the story here.

Of course my iPod was eating at its last battery bar when I dug it out of my purse. But we all know it’s like the gas meter in cars, where the arrow can go below the E and the engine runs for another twenty minutes or so. I felt the unpleasant sting of the cold water this morning, an unusual reaction for my cold-blooded organism. And the toothpaste tasted weird. Or maybe it wasn’t mixing well with the colonies of bacteria born in my mouth overnight.

Seven in the morning, he’s probably snoring in someone’s garage. By now I’d normally collapse into a fit of girly depression, but for once I didn’t care why he hadn’t called last night. I knew I should care. It was the very thing I was afraid of happening, and so far all (or at least most) signs pointed to wham-bam-thankya-slam. But somehow I couldn’t make myself care, not when I had something bigger and greater and meaner keeping my brain cells busy. The days of childish analyses of the male mind had just vanished.

MOM I WENT RUNNING ‘CAUSE I WOKE UP EARLY BE BACK AROUND 8. The marker gave out mid-8, and I was too lazy to do a pen search in the pitch black living room. I never really realized how much laziness controlled my life until now, until yesterday afternoon to be more exact. But about that later. It won’t be the end of the world if my mother can’t make out the hour I plan to return home. Actually, it may be for the best.

Outside was chilly and new. I haven’t seen the city in the morning for two months, and it was something to get used to. Streets were completely deserted – good because I hate people staring at me as I’m burning cellulite – and everything was tinted a shade of blue. The tree trunks were blue, the brick walls of houses were blue, even the sidewalks that were recently renewed with black concrete were blue. It’s really a phenomenon, if you ever get a chance to observe the industrial world right before it wakes up. Blue was simple and undemanding. Everything blended in. Now, if there were any changes about how I looked or felt, they were accidentally and conveniently unnoticeable.

My sore thighs screamed with the first few steps I took. Nope, don’t notice anything. Must go faster. I picked up speed to the beat of Rose Falcon’s “Up up up”, casually letting the words sink into my mind. My senses somehow seemed heightened and I was more aware of everything I touched, everything I saw and heard. The hot friction between my keds and the pavement. The sharp curve in the road ahead. The monster garbage truck blasting its horn pipes many yards away. My ear drums were frantically trying to keep up but they were failing, and my ears were hurting, but I turned up the volume. Must go faster.

The worst part is, everything was going so damn well. I don’t know what in hell possessed me to go after more than I could handle. Maybe it’s because I missed him so much. Breakfast together wasn’t enough, and neither was watching TV on my couch like old times or making out during the commercial breaks. I missed him too much. Off came the black tank top and the Victoria’s Secret pj’s, but instead of sex there was cuddling and soft kisses on the cheek and falling asleep in each other’s arms. Stuff like that doesn’t last. I wanted more. And somewhere in my midst of wanting and receiving I lost the scariest thing you can possibly lose: time.

To be continued