there are loopholes, girl

24 Sep

He was wearing a light blue shirt with the brand name I associate with Hot Fiance and his drawer full of shirts in my bedroom. I think I waved as the five feet between us shrank, and then we hugged lightly (a 4.3 out of 10), and I sat down while he ordered his Caribbean Passion. His face was only slightly rounder from the way I remember, but I realized then that I don’t care so much about him becoming fat, bald, and lonely as I did during the angry stage of my teenage grief. He was alright, and I hoped I at least looked alright to him as well and he didn’t notice that the roots of my hair were dark because of a Thursday six weeks ago when I wanted to go a lighter brown but decided against upkeep because asking Mom to run her fingers through my long tangled hair with chemicals on her gloves every month was too much to ask even that Thursday, when I wanted her to hurry and to not tug so much because my hair was already weak and brittle from my hot iron every dreadful morning before work. I hoped he didn’t notice that my teeth are still bad and stained from, like, Snapple maybe, and I have cavities on my bottom teeth that need filling, and that one that he pointed out in the library nine years ago, the fourth from the middle on the left, is still sticking up and in more than the others because I don’t know what I can do to fix it and even if I did, I can’t afford it. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. And if my face was gross or my arms were flabbier than he remembers, he kept it to himself. We talked about normal things at first, the kinds of things you’d talk about with your older coworkers, like, work and friends and our current living situations. And when he said he didn’t like Harry Potter, and I couldn’t even, we were friends again. Like high school. Like all those hours on the phone agreeing to disagree on everything except “Transatlanticism” and 10 Things I Hate About You and the great Leonardo DiCaprio. And maybe that was enough for Fireman to think of me when he sees The Great Gatsby in 2013, or listens to anything country, or when he feels like having a quiet night with a friend over some food and a margarita, maybe. We could double. Maybe. Maybe. It was nice, anyway.


4 Responses to “there are loopholes, girl”

  1. naannss September 25, 2012 at 1:28 am #

    loving the picture.

    • jenibo September 26, 2012 at 7:41 am #

      Thank you very much, Nanna!

  2. kdunn5372 September 26, 2012 at 2:53 pm #

    I’m really glad it turned out okay. 🙂


  1. ten things i hate about fireman | a breath from the breathing - January 29, 2015

    […] things that reminded me of him because we’d talked about them before, which I hated also. When we met up for smoothies in 2012, we talked about movies. He asked if I like 10 Things I Hate About You, and I was going to tell him […]

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