“And now he’s—”
“Yup.”
He scratched the side of his neck with one hand, the other on the steering wheel. “And she’s going out with him?”
“Seems like it.”
I called up, “I can hear you. I’m in the backseat, not on Mars.”
Marco ignored me. “Can you explain to me why? I thought—”
“She thinks he’s cute. Remember?” Her sarcasm pissed me off. She did not have a right to be madder at Tristan than I was.
We came to a stop at a red light a couple of blocks north of our destination, and they both turned around and looked at me. Marco shrugged. “I guess she can make her own decisions.”
I opened the car door. “I can walk from here.”
I jumped out and made it to the sidewalk when Aida rolled down her window and yelled, “Don’t forget to use a condom!”
Ha-ha.
The light turned green, and I shook a fist as Marco turned left and drove out of sight. And that was the moment I noticed my backpack wasn’t slung over my shoulder.
God dammit.
I had no money, no driver’s license, no keys. Shit. No phone.
To stop myself from freaking out, I mentally listed all the problems I might encounter.
Money. I wouldn’t need if this was a date.
Driver’s license. I only needed for alcohol. I wouldn’t order any.
Keys. I wouldn’t need until I got home.
Phone. I needed. I had no way to call for a ride. Fuck.
Okay, so I could walk home and wait on the porch for Aida. Or sit at Alfie’s bar for an hour.
Or go home with Tristan.
Freak-out averted. I could survive.
However, the stress hadn’t left me unscathed, and I discovered I had an urgent need to pee. Most businesses in Little Five Points had strict policies against using their facilities without ordering anything, and I didn’t have money for that. There was a comic book store on Euclid near the Mexican place, and I knew the owner. I could swing in, borrow his restroom, and be on my merry way. Though this side venture wasn’t without its own perils.
The comic store’s sign came into view as I rounded a pack of teens clogging the sidewalk.
I swung open the glass door and did a quick sweep of the interior for any signs of my ex-boyfriend.
“Hey, Sierra.”
I’d overlooked Howard hunched behind the cash register.
I didn’t want to make this into a whole reunion, so I powered on through the store. “Hey, Howard. Mind if I use your bathroom? Thanks.”
“Sure.” He said this to nobody since I didn’t stop walking until I had the door locked behind me.
And then, blessed relief. I tugged out a wad of toilet paper, which was so stiff and rough it could have been made from gum wrappers. That didn’t bother me until I noticed the reddish stain on my underwear.
Fuck my life. No wonder my stomach had been so crampy for the past couple of days.
Could stress bring on a period a week early?
I reached over to grab a pad from my backpack before I remembered my inventory was at zero. Ugh. Time to live like the cavewomen did. I took a long strand of toilet paper and Mac-Grubered it around my underwear as a makeshift sanitary napkin. This barely qualified as paper; an actual napkin would have been of more use.
I looked around for a tampon machine, doubting I’d have such luck.
Hallelujah! Howard had one installed.
But curses! It required a dime. A dime! I laughed at how the loss of a simple bag had stymied me. Granted, I doubted I’d have such an archaic form of payment in my backpack.
Who had a dime?
Howard probably did. But how could I ask for change without him knowing why? Argh.
If I’d been inside a video game, I’d just mow down some bushes or decapitate a gorgon, and I’d be flush with coinage.
In the real world, one had to beg.
I squeezed my fists to fight back a scream and muster the courage to do something I really did not want to do, then peeked out the bathroom. There was a straight view to the cash register. I slipped against the wall and actually said, “Psssst.” I never knew people did that outside of the movies, but it got Howard’s attention. I waved him over.
“Can I borrow a dime?” I whispered.
“A dime?” He spoke in a normal voice so I shushed him, and his eyes grew into massive all-seeing saucers as he took in my plight. This would have been a good time for an earthquake.
Why was this still such an embarrassment in this day and age? Why was I protecting Howard’s genteel sensibilities from a predicament that afflicted half the population? I straightened my back and looked him in the eye.
“Please? I’m in a bind. I can pay you back.”
“Oh, of course. No.” He turned back toward the register. “I mean, no, you don’t have to pay me back. One second.”
Thank God.
Time stood still as I waited and watched him work the cash register.
He’d gained weight. He’d finally gotten a decent haircut. And he was no longer wearing bowling shirts as everyday fashion. Score a point for his wife, Dahlia. It figured some other woman would reap the benefits of another one of my failed relationships.
Howard and I had broken up over a year ago. Things were still a bit awkward between us, although our split had been inevitable and neither of us harbored ill will. We were possibly too compatible, like chocolate icing on chocolate cake. I might have been content to remain in a comfortable loveless relationship indefinitely since I no longer expected much more than companionship anymore anyway.
My mom had told me there were three kinds of love: Eros, Philia, and Agape. Sex, friendship, and some other third kind of love. I think that was her way of explaining her sterile marriage with my dad wasn’t altogether normal, and I should aim higher, but without a decent role model I didn’t know how to.
I’d loved Howard with the most ardent Philia, but we lacked any sparks, any real sexual chemistry.
I knew the difference. It wasn’t too hard to hook up with someone like Wyatt for a night to satisfy Eros, but those relationships were short-lived without the basic friendship.
And Agape? I was unclear on that. I’d always pictured it as this mysterious all-consuming love. Whatever it was, I’d never experienced it that I knew of.
I’d be content to find a man who could give me two of the three at the same time.
Howard wasn’t that man.
After I found the courage to end things with him, he moved on and met Dahlia. I still couldn’t believe he’d gotten married. Meanwhile, I was a pinball, bouncing from one guy to the next without any stability or Agape in sight. Whatever that was.
Howard returned with the dime aloft, like he’d retrieved a treasure of real value. I guessed it was worth gold to me in that moment.
Once I had the dime, I shot back to the machine and plunked it in. There was only one choice for a pad, and I turned the dial and waited.
Nothing happened.
Maybe the machine had been hanging there neglected since the dawn of time, and Howard had never refilled it.
Frustrated, I smashed the box with my palm, and my violence rewarded me with a loud clunk as pink plastic dropped down into the well. I stared at the foreign object. It was perfectly square, three inches high and three inches wide. When I unwrapped it and opened it, I discovered why. The pad itself was thick and solid, like the cotton dentists use to keep teeth dry. It must’ve been manufactured before women’s liberation. I was surprised it didn’t come with a harness.