Okay, I gotta say a few things. Firstly, I know I neglected this story for over a year. I'm so sorry for everyone who probably doesn't even care about the story at this point. Secondly, thanks to everyone that reviewed, favorited and followed this story, you are one of the main reasons why I decided to continue it after all this time.
3. Cat On Tin Roof
I'm unproductive. And apart from not doing things that I'm supposed to do, I also do things I'm not supposed to. Every time I went inside a business I asked if someone who worked there was called Rita. I searched her name in all social media websites I could make an account for. I made up stuff about her life for myself. I imagined things about her. She wasn't in the coffee shop the last time I went, which was today. While I sat on the couch she was on that last time, I started writing 'fuck' several times like I was practising my handwriting. At least I was using my notebook for something.
I couldn't have been that creepy to her. I looked as young as I was. Maybe being a writer isn't as romantic as being a musician or a painter. I guess they are to Americans.
«I can't prepare» I wrote after the many lines of «fuckfuckfuck». Because there's things nobody can prepare for. Not even the good things. The word «prepare» was in a song I was listening to. But it made no sense. It was meaningless. Maybe I could be romantic and say that I couldn't prepare for something good, that was her.
«No matter how much
I want to,
I can't prepare myself
for something
I don't understand.»
What does that even mean? I can't write romance. I'm too vague when trying to not be corny. It does make sense. I can't understand other people's lives. That includes Rita's.
The coffee shop was quieter than usual, and it built a need inside me to leave. I fought the cold while walking on the streets, because I was trying to find short red hair among all the heads that I walked past. At some point, a scent of cheesecake made me actually enter somewhere. As soon as I did, I noticed the contrast of baby blue walls against red hair. My mouth watered. She looked much closer to her age, since the length of her tight, pink dress was letting me see the shape of her legs and her heels elongated them. Here women prefer to look womanly than to look cute and girly. I can't complain. I guess it's kind of sick, after all, to want women to look like children. She held a small piece of cake inside a plastic, triangle shaped box.
''Is there something on my face?'' she asked. I couldn't avoid opening my eyes wide enough for me to look shocked. I wasn't, though. I was embarrassed. She probably had recognized me as the guy who wouldn't stop staring at her those two times.
''No... no.'' She only focused on my face after that.
''Well, hello.'' I was sure her tone was sarcastic and I figured that then remembered my face. My accent was obvious when I replied back with ''Hello.'' I was thankful her name didn't have any L's or consonants stuck to each other.
As she dodged me to leave the place, I imagined her flirting with someone. It was a man who wasn't me but was supposed to be. I felt it was me but he didn't look like me. Before losing sight of her, I wrote on my own hand.
«Another person/A different person
Who is me.»
Although I walked towards her, I was debating on whether or not to speak to her. I was insisting too much and I knew it. But I needed to know her. She stopped at a place where people weren't walking near as much as where I was. Approaching her meant sliding between other people. It was one of the things that I disliked the most to do. However, I did let my clothes make contact with other people when I walked towards Rita.
''Excuse me.'' I said, just as I had done the last time I saw her. ''I want to know more about you.''
She took her time deciding on what to tell me, and if she even wanted to look at me. After a few seconds, she looked at me.
''Why?''
I should have been prepared for that question.
''You seem interesting... And I also find you very slutty.''
''Excuse me?''
In my defense, I didn't know much about compliments in English. Based on porn actresses being called 'sluts', or girl's comments on social media, I thought it referred to attractive women. And besides, 'slutty' is a word very close to 'sexy'. Her eyebrows raised.
''I'm sorry, is that bad?'' I asked her. My face started to feel warmer.
She closed her eyes and started making slow, deep breaths, maybe to calm herself. I don't want to word the things I made up on my head as that happened.
''Well, I'm sorry... I didn't mean anything bad.'' At that moment I still thought that it bothered her just because I was making comments on her appearance.
''You know, it doesn't matter. Clearly you don't know what that means anyway.'' That last phrase told me I was mistaken in my choice of words. I looked at the ground, thinking of something honest but warm to tell her. She then made sounds like she was crying, but I turned to look at her eyes again and she laughed. I wasn't sure if she was laughing at me, but I started laughing too because I couldn't help it. Her laugh was nice and the shape of her lips while she did it was inviting and sweet, like a human version of looking at the dessert she held with both hands.
«If you were less human,
you'd be edible.»
I repeated the words inside my head because I couldn't write that on my hand after the laughter started leaving her. She was looking at me.
''What is it?'' I asked her almost in a whisper, so she wouldn't interpret my question as me being annoyed.
''Sometimes people speak the truth by accident.'' She told me. ''I think it's funny that you did.''
''I... what?'' I was all I could say. ''I really don't know what I said. I'm sorry if it was wrong.'' I told her.
''It's not.'' She said. ''Anyway...''
Her hand got closer to mine and before I was ready, she took the pen that I held in my right hand. I probably had made another shocked expression, and I was closer to it then. People didn't touch me, and touch was somewhat uncomfortable. She wrote something on my hand.
''It's my surname.'' she said.
«Vrataski»
I repeated the name out loud. She smiled, I thought she might have been trying to supress a laugh.
''Yeah, search for me and we can talk to each other to meet somewhere again.'' She said, and then she started walking away from me.
I spent so much time thinking of what to reply that she was already far from me when I looked back, so I went back home.
After writing down the phrase I'd been repeating, I took all clothes but my underwear off. However, after I tucked myself between the sheets, I created so many situations and images involving Rita that I had to take off my boxers and put them away.
