I try to be good, I really do. But temptation has my cell number permanently emblazoned in his back pocket.
My life is in a giant upheaval at the moment. My family has decided to move out of my beloved Whittier and move closer to Downtown and East L.A. We have found a spacious and well-priced apartment in the city of Montebello. I am very glad to be moving closer to my job and all of my friends. I am not glad that I now have to quickly find a home for my two cats Susie and Blackie. (sigh) But such is life, right? There have been many tears shed and nerves put on edge with this move; some of us don’t want to leave and some of us do. We should know this week if we got the apartment and then begin to move out of Whittier within the next two weeks. This might put a damper on my birthday celebrations. Argh.
I was curled up in my warm blankets, deep in thought about the future of my life and how this big change was going to affect it. I was also doing my best to fend off the early winter cold when I hear my phone go off at exactly 11:11 pm. Reluctantly, I peeled myself out of bed and glanced at the caller ID.
Edgar. Holy motherfucker.
11:11 is a special hour for me: I always make a wish when I see it. I swear sometimes the way things happen, it’s like I will them to occur this way. I didn’t wish for this, though.
My motto lately has been “don’t do it.” Don’t text Danny so much anymore and set up dates and especially don’t pick up the phone when Edgar calls you. I could hear my friends screaming at me, “DON’T MAKE YOURSELF AVAILABLE TO HIM!!!” My fingers ached to reject his call. I could feel my thumb hovering over the “ignore” button.
But I’m weak. I lack will power. I am devoid of self-restraint. There I was, bleary eyed and in my pajamas. All I wanted was to drift off to sleep but now here’s Edgar at 11 o’clock at night and suddenly I can smell his cologne and feel his fingers gripping on my waist.
I pick up. Ugh.
Before I can even start kicking myself for being so irresolute, I dive into a pleasant conversation with the boy wonder of law school. He asks how I’m doing and what’s going on in my life, so naturally I tell him about the move to Montebello. He asks exactly what streets and I reply, “Washington and Greenwood” to which he responds with a hint of surprise, “Oh very nice. I know exactly where that is.” He lives in Commerce which is one of the adjacent cities. I have unknowingly encroached even further into his territory. Score.
I like to keep him on his toes, keep him guessing what I’ll say next. I am blunt and inquire as to what I owe this phone call so late at night. He feigns like he’s offended or something: “What? A guy can’t just call a pretty girl he likes? I’ve just been thinking about you and I wanted to hear your voice.” Oh, he knows how to pour it on; he knows EXACTLY what to say to keep me on the line. I swallow each line, wholesale. Suddenly, I'm a glutton for compliments. I crave to hear him say more lovely things about me. Is it any wonder I can’t stop myself from taking his calls? I throw another volley and say I’ve been thinking about him, too. I’ve now been reduced into a starry-eyed teenager. Each string of pretty words (they’re just words, right??) softens my demeanor. I hate him so much.
It’s not long before we start heavily flirting and he asks me what I want for my birthday/Christmas. I lay it on thick and coquettishly reply that I want what he got me last year. He laughs and wonders out loud what that was exactly, “Please tell me. I’m getting older and more feeble-minded; remind me: what exactly did I get for you last year? I believe you had a very specific request.” I feel myself laughing and shivering from the cold in my living room at the same time. We both know what it was: something to the effect of “you, me, a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue and my bed.” We take a stroll down memory lane and relive that cold December night last year when we drank whiskey and fucked like fiends to stay warm. “How many times did we go for it that night?” he asks and I can practically see the smile across his face. I shrug and look away even though I’m on the phone, like I can feel him staring at me, “Oh I don’t know...one...two...three times?” We go further and further into obscene detail, which prompts him to blurt out that he wishes he could fuck me right now. “I remember the last time I saw you. Oh man…” he trails off as I giggle in anticipation to what he will say. “Wasn’t that last month? The night my car got towed and I met Greg Graffin?” I press on, acting like I have no idea what we did that night. He takes the bait and continues on: “That’s it. That’s the night you left with me to say ‘goodnight’ and were gone for like 2 hours” he says with a soft laugh. Ahhh memories.
We loosely make plans to see each other after his finals are done, which should be around the weekend of December 18th. I know I’ll be busy moving and trying to celebrate earlier in the evening with my friends, so I purposely don’t set a thing in stone with him. Besides, he’s always the first to cancel, so I won’t even get excited that he’ll be a true man to his word. He’s a lawyer in training right? Always a liar and always persuasive. He wants to know exactly what I will do to him when I see him in a couple of weeks. I pretend to be shy about it but don’t dare get too graphic for fear someone at my house might hear me. “I want to hear you say it. Come on, make me work for it” he murmurs into the phone. I feel my face flush and softly tell him I will definitely break him in half.
We end our conversation on a bit of a weird note. At one point he says that one day he’ll be coming to me, complaining about his wife and wanting to see me. I wonder if this is a blatant reference to my time spent with him whilst cheating on Danny. I tell him that’s not necessary, that I would never let him make that same kind of mistake. I counter with the fact that we could easily stop all this nonsense about being with other people by just finally dating each other exclusively and being together as a couple. I can already hear shades of hesitation over the phone and he quickly retorts, “Hey if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it right? Isn’t that what we’ve always said?” I agree but suggest that maybe we should upgrade the model and give it a try. We say goodnight soon after and I wish him luck with his finals. He wishes me luck with the move and that’s that.
I don’t get why he acts like he doesn’t want more to do with me, like he isn’t a typical Mexican American boy with a jealous streak. Earlier in the conversation I had joked that I like to keep my friends “happy” as an oblique reference to all the times I’ve gone down on him. He was quick to ask in a half kidding/half serious way whether he should be worried or not that I had used “friend” in the plural sense. I told him there was no need for concern but felt silly for even deeming that with an answer. Hmmm. He also confessed he hoped no other guy would come along and sweep me off my feet. Yup, your average Mexican American boy with a jealous streak and an insecurity that he masks with bravado and wit. He could make his life so much easier but he refuses. I just can’t help him with that. We’re always on two different levels which can only be evened out with feverish hook ups in the middle of the night.
There was no time to sit around and day dream about Edgar at work. I got a call from Dan, not on my cell phone but at my direct line at work. I picked up my office phone and was greeted with a “Hey negro!” Yup, that’s one of Dan’s many odd (and offensive) terms of endearment for me. My favorite is still Chicken McNigger. I ask him what’s going on and he says that his two friends from work (Mike and John) are going to see Tron in 3-D and since they’re taking dates, he wanted to know if I could go with him. Ooooh, a triple date!
Me: Ah, okay. Sure. I’ll go with you so that you’re not the lonely Mr.Cherry.
Dan: Yes well, thank you.
Me: See? There I am saving your social status again.
Dan: Always. Okay, see you on the 17th.
Me: Sure. Just let me know how much I owe you for the movie ticket.
Dan: Nah, don’t worry about it. I got it.
Me: Awwww...you are quite the honey-dripper. See ya.
Dan: Bye.
I’ve got quite the December to remember coming up. BRING IT ON!
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