Crush

This entry is part 11 of 17 in the series Issue XII: Spring 2013 Prose

By Eileen Sutton

NYWC Workshop Leader, 14th Street Y

…she was a little midget Blu, a little nothin…she had on those weird platform shoes and a short green skirt the size of a postage stamp, way too short for winter cause you could practically see her cho-cho and I’d seen her walk by Adela’s alotta days when I was gettin my coffee first thing and always feeling lonely in the morning Blu you know how that is, right?…you open your eyes and there it is, the feeling from all night long, the empty space next to you in the bed, and watching her walk by one day I says to myself this pendeja ain’t getting anywhere close to a man any better than me in a trillion years so I follow her all the way down Avenue C, past Joselito’s, past the hardware store, past Skinny’s bodega on 10th Street, all the way to the crappy little pastele place on 12th Street closer to Avenue D, you know the one…and I’m just watching the half-moons of her fat ass goin back and forth, moving slow and easy, no rushing, like that crap in the lava lamps the hippies got…and I’m getting hotter and hotter for her as we go and my mind starts to work on it, like maybe she’s the one, maybe this goofy tiny broad is my fucking soul mate, the woman I’ve waited for all these years since Marilyn overdosed right in my fucking house, Blu, you remember that…all these years the memory of the smell of Marilyn’s vomit still wakes me up and I call out her name but there’s no one, no one at all, and I think maybe this new girl is the someone, the new someone to make the vomit smell finally disappear from my dreams and as I’m following her she goes into the drug store and I wait, dreamin all of a sudden about the quick happy wedding we’re gonna have in City Hall with like three guests, that’s it, including you, Blu, of course you, and we’ll all get fucking smashed after at Ricky’s joint and the midget’ll be on my lap and I’ll be crying, all of us drunk and high and me crying my fucking brands out cause I’ll be happy again, happy like an elf, heroin happy…then here she comes from the drug store and turns right on 12th Street and I’m this close to going right up to her and sayin hello or whatever but now I’m scared to death of my new bride and I don’t do a thing and she goes into the restaurant and I watch her take a seat in the window and June waits on her and she catches my eye for a slick minute and I’m wondering if she thinks I’m a nut case stalking her but I smile, nervous, and she smiles back and I find the guts to take a step toward the front door of the joint when this dickhead pushes in front of me and goes inside and gives my soon-to-be girlfriend a huge sloppy kiss that lasts way too long for something in public and I just watch em, like it’s a movie, I stare at em like they’re the last two assholes on earth kissing in the window of a gruesome little diner and my eyes fill up with tears to have lost her so fast, and I thank god it’s so cold cause I can blame the wind for my tears and I do, Blu, walking away up 12th, I blame the goddamn wind.

"Back it Up" by Zoe Frederick
“Back it Up” by Zoe Frederick
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