So, there I was, just a-walkin' down the street, like the song. Heh. It
was, oh, somewhere around ten o'clock in the morning. It was actually a
nice day, sun somewhere behind the smog, but still chilly enough I'd be
making good use of that jacket. Or Heero. Heh.
It's always interesting watching the other people out and about their daily business. This time of day, there were only a few desperate crackheads out, and even fewer and more desperate dealers. Mostly regular, law-abiding citizens, like lawyers, doctors, business upper-management. Yeah right. They probably break more laws than I do. Heh. Also, there were some regular people. Soccer moms. Struggling college students. The occasional cop. And a few others just like me, heading down to their own meeting place. It was too early for anyone to really be enforcing territory, and around here it's actually pretty loose, anyway. Especially the shopping districts, where I was at then, because there's so much tourism. That's all a good thing, though. Trust me. Heh.
You know, I've been told that I use the word "heh" too much when I'm writing junk down, and hardly ever in my speech. Imagine that.
I stepped into a small diner that my mother used to work in, before she OD'd. Not that it was any sort of tribute - she couldn't even get off drugs when she was pregnant with me, I'm told. I'm lucky I'm not too messed up, I guess - someone told me I was born with an addiction but somehow the doctors got it fixed, and my eyes are sorta' a funny color. They're mostly blue, but with some "overtones" of purple. Heero says they're sexy, and that each time he looks in my eyes he starts to drown. Hearing him say that makes my belly do a little flip-flop. That's why I line them with kohl, to bring them out and make sure he notices. Heh.
Anyway, I stopped at the diner because I was hungry, and they got great food for cheap. I winked at Esmerita, my favorite waitress, as I sauntered up to the counter.
"Hola, Esmerita! Como esta?" I laughingly shouted over to her. She rolled her eyes at me. See, her parents made a break across the Mexican border, she says, and she was born not too long after they got to this city. Then, she says that her parents tried their hardest not to speak Spanish, but English at their home, so that she'd be able to blend in with everybody. Problem is, she only knows just a bit past the basics of Spanish, because her parents didn't think of the benefits of bilinguality. I mean, I would say she's fluent, but she says that she still has a lot to learn. Anyway, I love to tease her with the little Spanish that iI/i know, because she taught it to me.
"Hola, Du-ito, mijo. Como estas?" she replied in turn. We always asked like that, but otherwise almost always spoke to each other in English.
Esmerita has always been my mother-figure. Even when my real mother was alive, Esmerita was more the one who tried to bring me up. Granted, she had her own brood of kids, most of them all grown and moved away now, so it wasn't as if she could take me home with her, but I'm sure she would have if she could. She's actually the one who suggested to me that I join a gang. She knew all about them, because her younger brother had been involved with a gang and was killed when he was still pretty young, but she still thought that for me, with my drug-addict mother and apathetic and abusive father, that a gang was the best way I'd get a group of people who cared about me and some measure of protection. So I did, and the rest is history.
"Same as always, sweetie!" I grinned at her. She was more than old enough to be my mother, but I still flirted shamelessly with her. I did with everyone. Heh.
"What's on the menu today?" I asked.
"Biscuits and gravy, mijo. Want some coffee?" she answered.
"Yes, please!" I winked and tossed her a cocky salute, then slid onto a stool at the counter. The place was small, but rather nice. Booths along the street windows, bar counter, and the kitchen behind, where you could watch the chef, crazily enough the owner and named Joe, make whatever you ordered, so long as it was on the menu. Joe was actually this rather large guy of Russian descent, and had a French-style handlebar mustache. He had the weirdest sense of humor, but was also usually pretty quiet. I remember my mother once called him a walking paradox, on one of her more lucid days.
She had been pretty smart, my mother. She had a Master's degree in... was it nutrition? I honestly don't remember now. She loved to read, I know, because we had a huge pile of books, on all sorts of things, in the living room of the apartment. Of course, she never read to me. My parents put me through school to the sixth grade, and after that it was up to me. I tried, for a while, but it just wasn't working. I still make an attempt, in that I show up to school often enough they can't disenroll me. I did make an effort to read my mother's books, though. Most of what I know came from those. My mother had most of her old college textbooks, fiction, biographies, recipes, and a whole lot else. I'm probably smarter than all the other kids at school, even if I haven't learned the same material.
When she died, my father sold all of those books, even the ones I'd hidden in my room. I have no idea how much money he got from those books, or from the insurance money, for that matter. I never saw it, and have no idea where it's gone. I don't really care, now, though at the time I was upset because those books had meant the world to me. Now, though, I have the gang, and Esmerita, and Heero. I'll worry about what I need later in life later.
It didn't take too long at all before my breakfast was served up before me. The other two customers in the diner at the time were busy stuffing their faces, so Esmerita leaned up against her side of the counter to chat with me.
"How are things, Duo?" she asked, with true sincerity. She has a nice smile - it always makes me want to open up and tell her everything.
I looked up at her, and I must admit that my mouth was fairly full of food at the moment. I suppose I looked somewhat like a chipmunk, with bulging cheeks, because she laughed at me quite wholeheartedly, despite the serious tone of her question. I got the mouthful down pretty quickly and flashed a grin.
"Really, Esmerita ma'am, it's goin' pretty good. Still enrolled in school, no major fights lately, still with Heero,-" Yeah, she already knew I'm gay "-and he hasn't hit me for over two weeks." She knew that the "he" who hadn't hit me was my father. At the time, I did my level best to deny his existence. Just don't get confused, thinkin' that Heero hit me. Heero never did. Never has.
She sighed, this really cute, motherly sigh that sounded just like what I know she was thinking, that my life is going about as well as it could even though she wishes it could be so much more. She's a really sweet lady. Have I mentioned how much I like her?
"You know you could report him," she said to me.
I shrugged. "No offense, but we've been over this. What would it do? You know he won't listen if they tell him to stop, and if they get up enough nerve to take me out of that place, well, there goes my life as I know it, to be replaced by foster home after foster home."
She sighed again. "Oh, Du-ito, if only-"
I held up my hand. "Nuh-uh, mother-hen. You've been and still iare/i a mom, and you can't take me in. Besides, I'd drive you crazy within a week." I grinned again. "Thanks for the thought, though."
She gave me a sad little smile just as another customer came in. "All right, Duo. You finish your breakfast, and be safe." She stood to get a menu and greet the woman who'd just walked in.
I nodded vigorously. "Yes, ma'am!" Then I continued to dig into my food. Gawd, that Joe can cook! Makes me wonder why he's running such a small place like this.
I finished up rather quickly, and left a couple bills on the counter, enough to cover both the food and a meager tip. I waved goodbye to both Joe and Esmerita, then headed back out into the mid-morning day.
Next stop: the alley where me and the guys met nearly every day.
It's always interesting watching the other people out and about their daily business. This time of day, there were only a few desperate crackheads out, and even fewer and more desperate dealers. Mostly regular, law-abiding citizens, like lawyers, doctors, business upper-management. Yeah right. They probably break more laws than I do. Heh. Also, there were some regular people. Soccer moms. Struggling college students. The occasional cop. And a few others just like me, heading down to their own meeting place. It was too early for anyone to really be enforcing territory, and around here it's actually pretty loose, anyway. Especially the shopping districts, where I was at then, because there's so much tourism. That's all a good thing, though. Trust me. Heh.
You know, I've been told that I use the word "heh" too much when I'm writing junk down, and hardly ever in my speech. Imagine that.
I stepped into a small diner that my mother used to work in, before she OD'd. Not that it was any sort of tribute - she couldn't even get off drugs when she was pregnant with me, I'm told. I'm lucky I'm not too messed up, I guess - someone told me I was born with an addiction but somehow the doctors got it fixed, and my eyes are sorta' a funny color. They're mostly blue, but with some "overtones" of purple. Heero says they're sexy, and that each time he looks in my eyes he starts to drown. Hearing him say that makes my belly do a little flip-flop. That's why I line them with kohl, to bring them out and make sure he notices. Heh.
Anyway, I stopped at the diner because I was hungry, and they got great food for cheap. I winked at Esmerita, my favorite waitress, as I sauntered up to the counter.
"Hola, Esmerita! Como esta?" I laughingly shouted over to her. She rolled her eyes at me. See, her parents made a break across the Mexican border, she says, and she was born not too long after they got to this city. Then, she says that her parents tried their hardest not to speak Spanish, but English at their home, so that she'd be able to blend in with everybody. Problem is, she only knows just a bit past the basics of Spanish, because her parents didn't think of the benefits of bilinguality. I mean, I would say she's fluent, but she says that she still has a lot to learn. Anyway, I love to tease her with the little Spanish that iI/i know, because she taught it to me.
"Hola, Du-ito, mijo. Como estas?" she replied in turn. We always asked like that, but otherwise almost always spoke to each other in English.
Esmerita has always been my mother-figure. Even when my real mother was alive, Esmerita was more the one who tried to bring me up. Granted, she had her own brood of kids, most of them all grown and moved away now, so it wasn't as if she could take me home with her, but I'm sure she would have if she could. She's actually the one who suggested to me that I join a gang. She knew all about them, because her younger brother had been involved with a gang and was killed when he was still pretty young, but she still thought that for me, with my drug-addict mother and apathetic and abusive father, that a gang was the best way I'd get a group of people who cared about me and some measure of protection. So I did, and the rest is history.
"Same as always, sweetie!" I grinned at her. She was more than old enough to be my mother, but I still flirted shamelessly with her. I did with everyone. Heh.
"What's on the menu today?" I asked.
"Biscuits and gravy, mijo. Want some coffee?" she answered.
"Yes, please!" I winked and tossed her a cocky salute, then slid onto a stool at the counter. The place was small, but rather nice. Booths along the street windows, bar counter, and the kitchen behind, where you could watch the chef, crazily enough the owner and named Joe, make whatever you ordered, so long as it was on the menu. Joe was actually this rather large guy of Russian descent, and had a French-style handlebar mustache. He had the weirdest sense of humor, but was also usually pretty quiet. I remember my mother once called him a walking paradox, on one of her more lucid days.
She had been pretty smart, my mother. She had a Master's degree in... was it nutrition? I honestly don't remember now. She loved to read, I know, because we had a huge pile of books, on all sorts of things, in the living room of the apartment. Of course, she never read to me. My parents put me through school to the sixth grade, and after that it was up to me. I tried, for a while, but it just wasn't working. I still make an attempt, in that I show up to school often enough they can't disenroll me. I did make an effort to read my mother's books, though. Most of what I know came from those. My mother had most of her old college textbooks, fiction, biographies, recipes, and a whole lot else. I'm probably smarter than all the other kids at school, even if I haven't learned the same material.
When she died, my father sold all of those books, even the ones I'd hidden in my room. I have no idea how much money he got from those books, or from the insurance money, for that matter. I never saw it, and have no idea where it's gone. I don't really care, now, though at the time I was upset because those books had meant the world to me. Now, though, I have the gang, and Esmerita, and Heero. I'll worry about what I need later in life later.
It didn't take too long at all before my breakfast was served up before me. The other two customers in the diner at the time were busy stuffing their faces, so Esmerita leaned up against her side of the counter to chat with me.
"How are things, Duo?" she asked, with true sincerity. She has a nice smile - it always makes me want to open up and tell her everything.
I looked up at her, and I must admit that my mouth was fairly full of food at the moment. I suppose I looked somewhat like a chipmunk, with bulging cheeks, because she laughed at me quite wholeheartedly, despite the serious tone of her question. I got the mouthful down pretty quickly and flashed a grin.
"Really, Esmerita ma'am, it's goin' pretty good. Still enrolled in school, no major fights lately, still with Heero,-" Yeah, she already knew I'm gay "-and he hasn't hit me for over two weeks." She knew that the "he" who hadn't hit me was my father. At the time, I did my level best to deny his existence. Just don't get confused, thinkin' that Heero hit me. Heero never did. Never has.
She sighed, this really cute, motherly sigh that sounded just like what I know she was thinking, that my life is going about as well as it could even though she wishes it could be so much more. She's a really sweet lady. Have I mentioned how much I like her?
"You know you could report him," she said to me.
I shrugged. "No offense, but we've been over this. What would it do? You know he won't listen if they tell him to stop, and if they get up enough nerve to take me out of that place, well, there goes my life as I know it, to be replaced by foster home after foster home."
She sighed again. "Oh, Du-ito, if only-"
I held up my hand. "Nuh-uh, mother-hen. You've been and still iare/i a mom, and you can't take me in. Besides, I'd drive you crazy within a week." I grinned again. "Thanks for the thought, though."
She gave me a sad little smile just as another customer came in. "All right, Duo. You finish your breakfast, and be safe." She stood to get a menu and greet the woman who'd just walked in.
I nodded vigorously. "Yes, ma'am!" Then I continued to dig into my food. Gawd, that Joe can cook! Makes me wonder why he's running such a small place like this.
I finished up rather quickly, and left a couple bills on the counter, enough to cover both the food and a meager tip. I waved goodbye to both Joe and Esmerita, then headed back out into the mid-morning day.
Next stop: the alley where me and the guys met nearly every day.