Sunday June 3 2012


Waking up just before 11:30 a.m.

Two Peaches. An Apricot. Orange Peach Mango Juice.

All day shift at China Wok.

A very slow day for business.

Finishing up the snow peas.

Peanut Butter Bagel. Tortilla Chips with Salsa and Avocado. Honey Green Tea.

Kristin stops by and tags along on my deliveries for a few hours.


The conversation is bright and usual. She notices the yellow shirt I’m wearing.

Her: “I like your mustard shirt. It’s my Gemini power color.”


Me: “You’re like a novelty to me.”

Her: “I don’t know how to take that.”

Me: “You know how they have coke in glass bottles. You can’t get them at 7-11’s. You can only find them at mom and pop shops. Because the coke’s in the glass bottle it somehow tastes better. But it’s still the same substance. It’s a novelty.”


Me: “Like, sometimes I fantasize about having a Morticia-Gomez style relationship [in Addams Family]. Or maybe it’s more like Wednesday, when she crushes on that nerd at summer camp.”


Her: “I just want to keep you in my pocket.”

Me: “Can I make you into a bobble head?”


Commenting on the current non-exclusiveness of our relationship she says, “I’ve never had a boy who’s big on patience and time. You like keeping me in limbo.”


Out on a run. We have to return to the same neighborhood a few times. She reacts to the ridiculousness of that fact.

Her: “Dude! I feel like I’m in purgatory!”

[shared laughter]

Me: “Like an Eternal Wok Purgatory. It can be called wokatory!”


Her: “I don’t know how I feel about being known as someone’s girl who’s the grandfather of a hipster commune.”

Me: “Wives of hipster commune leaders. It might make a good documentary.”

Her: “Mob wives.”

Me: “Yeah, like mob wives.”


While delivering an order deep into Kings Grant we strike up a conversation about souls and our shared church/religious roots. She gets deep into her family past and goes on quite an emotional tangent about it. I feel for her.

We arrive back at The Wok. She leaves to continue her day but sends me an after text...

Her: “That was all very personal to me. I don’t like to talk about it much it makes me feel vulnerable. I like you bunches.”

Me: “it’s healthy for you and I’m grateful to know more about you and your history.”

Her: “:)”

My workday continues – nothing too overwhelming.

Banana. Lemonade.

It’s 10:15 p.m. and I’m off work.

Hot and Sour Soup with Rice, Spring Rolls, Shrimp Egg Roll, and a Sapporo Beer.

Watching Killer Elite (2011).

Fortune cookie says, “Good work, good life, good love, good-bye oppression.”

Spray painting my rims – giving it blue border.

I go to sleep at 3 a.m.

I wake up to the sound of my doorknob jiggling. Nobody’s knocking but whoever it is has been trying to open the door. It’s only been about an hour since I fell asleep. My phone’s glowing and pulsing without sound. I check the screen. Margot. Here we go again. How am I supposed to ignore this one? There's a voicemail but I'll listen to this later...

...I drag myself out of bed and open the door carefully. There she is all drama-eyed and obviously frustrated.

Me: “Well...hello.”

Her: “Why don’t you answer your phone!”

Me: “I’m sleeping, Margot. What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

Her: “I called and you didn’t answer.”


Me: “Well, come in here.”

We sit down on the bed together. She starts crying...

Her: “I know you didn’t want me to see you and I’m just ruining everything. I really wanted to not want to see you and I don’t know...Dammit, I still love you.”

Her birthday’s coming up at the end of the month and the thought of not having me around for it is depressing...

Her: “Every time I think about it, oh I would’ve had my boyfriend but I don’t have one anymore.”

I check my phone. I chuckle and react to the amount of times she tried to call me tonight...

Me: “Margot. 62 missed calls?”

Her: “Don’t judge me. You know how I am.”

Me: “Goodness. So you were calling me for an hour?”

Her: “Yes. And then I decided well, fuck it I’m gonna come over here. I don’t know what he’s doing if he’s fucking some bitch then godammit I’m pissed and would love to take it out on her.”


She frowns her lips in that sincere baby-like way, “I miss you. I don’t know why but I miss you so much. It’s been surprisingly easy but this past week it’s been very hard. There’s been men around to distract me. I don’t like them. And I was just thinking about my birthday’s coming up and I wanted you there.”


Her: “I don’t know what’s going on in your life. You could be dating someone new for all I care.”

Me: “And so could you.”

Her: “Yeah so could I. I could and I’m not. I’m stupid. I’m stupid.”

Me: “What does that mean?”

Her: “Cause there’s like men around and I hang out with them but they’re stupid.”


Her: “I don’t know I just wanna be in a relationship where I don’t have to worry about being stupid and I don’t have to worry about making dumb decisions because, like I know better and I do know better but at the same time I’m single and some of that caution goes to the wind cause you know I feel like I need to give things a chance. And I don’t want to. I don’t need to and I miss you.”


Her: “I’m sorry. I’m keeping you up. You’re just too nice. You’re just sitting over there just listening to me babble.”


Then she pops the question that drags the conversation deeper into frustration...

Her: “Have you been seeing anyone?”

How am I supposed to answer this? I am and I’m not. I attempt to be as vague as possible but do explain that I’ve been hanging out with Kristin.

She asks another question, “Has anyone spent the night?”

Me: “Oh my God...”

Her: “Has anyone?”

Me: “I really don’t think we should be talking about this.”

Her: “Has anyone spent the night?”

Me: “Yes someone has spent the night.”

And then all hell breaks loose. She demands to know “WHO?” She flips a shit and her anger monster takes over. I can’t even imagine giving her anymore details and I refrain for both our sakes.

Her: “I will kill her! I will kill her! Let that bitch know she isn’t one tenths as good looking as I am I can guarantee you that.”


Her: “I have to approve of what you do after me!”

Me: “No you don’t! You have no control over me.”

Her: “Well she should know that I’m fucking competition and better get it straight cause she’s gonna lose.”

Me: “Why are you competition?”

Her: “Because I am, Robert. I’m your ex-girlfriend. I am the competition.”

Me: “What does that mean?”

Her: “It means I’m the fucking trophy on your goddamn shelf!”

Me: “But you’re not my girlfriend!”


Her: “Like you have some bitch sleep in your bed...”

Me: “You had some bitch sleep in your bed too, Margot! You just got done confessing that to me. So I’m sorry...what? Why are you mad at me? Why? Why?”

Her: “Because I broke up with you, Robert. You’re the one who’s supposed to be stuck on me.”

Me: “’re allowed to do whatever you want and I’m not allowed to do what I want?”

Her: “No, Robert...”

Me: “Yes I am! I’m allowed to do what I want! And you can’t sit here and judge me about it! You are out of line!”


Me: “If you are giving yourself to other men then I am not yours. Nope. Not the case. You’ve been seeing other people haven’t you? You’re single. You’re going out with other people.”

Her: “I mean, yeah I’m trying to do that.”

Me: “So I’m not yours during this time. You have no rights.”

She keeps going on and on about how much she hates this other girl and blah blah blah. She persists in writing a down a letter to her in permanent red marker.

Me: “What are you doing?”

Her: “I’m writing her a personal letter!”

She calls out word for word what she composes, “Dear whore slut. This is infamous Margot...” The words continue as an over-dramatic insult.

You wanna date Robert? Well, you’re gonna have to go through the nine gates of hell to get to him.


I somehow calm her down and convince her to spend the night cause I don’t know how else to ease the scene. We lie down together.


Her: “You like some other girl and I’m washed out.”


It’s not even possible for me to get back to sleep now. She really disturbed my zone. I toss and turn countless times before I can get comfortable. All the while she’s sound asleep dreaming like a baby. I feel her reverberating body next to me – my groin pressed up against her bottom. Urges. I keep restraint. If only I could just drift off to dreamland. I can’t. I touch her carefully. It’s always a 50 to 50 chance her and I will end up having sex if she comes over...maybe more like 70 to 30. But I don’t know what came over me. I missed her sex. It’s true. She awakens slowly to my finger movement. My body tingles with excitement. I shouldn’t. But I do anyway. I struggle to keep my guy strong but he endures through it – a very short-lived experience. I feel a little guilty. This shouldn’t have happened. Even my pesky snake knew it and tried to protect me. It was completely unnecessary. It’s her fault for showing up uninvited. Or is it mine for allowing her to stay? She set me up. I set myself up. Whatever. This doesn’t really affect me. It simply pushes me away. Sadly it’s dead water...stagnant water which over time has developed mosquito colonies. I won’t take a dip or even wade in it. I want an ever-flowing river. I mean, who knows maybe in a few years I’ll come back to this mosquito infested body of water and it’ll have strengthened and cleaned up enough for me to swim in again. But for now it’s all variables to an exhausting equation... 

a + b/π = ac ÷ π > 11

The answer is there. If only I could just figure out the values.

Back to sleep finally sometime after dawn breaks.

[i] João Ruas.

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