And Konstantine is walking down the stairs

Doesn't she look good, standing in her underwear?

And I was thinking, what I was thinkin

But we've been drinking and it doesn't get us anywhere

My Konstantine came walking down the stairs

And all that I could do is touch her long, blonde hair

And I've been thinkin, it hurts me thinking that these nights

When we were drinking, no they never got us anywhere

No

This is because I can spell confusion with a k

And I can like it

It's to dying in another's arms and why I had to try it

It's to Jimmy Eat World and those nights in my car

When the first star you see may not be a star

I'm not your star

Isn't that what you said?

What you thought this song meant?

Konstantine by Something Corporate

I scraped bacon grease from the four-sided cookie sheet into the garbage can with a metal spatula. It was enough to make me seriously reconsider my love for red meat. Or make me want a bacon cheeseburger real bad. I guess it didn't help that the particular bacon grease had been fermenting for two weeks. That was the last time is had crossed Gordo's mind that washing dishes was a plus.

Why didn't he have his air conditioning on? It was the middle of July and there I was slaving over two-week-old dried on bacon grease in this ungodly got kitchen.

I gave up on the pan and moved on to a stack of plates covered in caked on egg or ketchup. Ah, the life of a college student.

I looked over my shoulder to Gordo's bedroom where he lay sleeping off his drunken stupor. After that night at Miranda's party, I hadn't seen Gordo again. So imagine my surprise when two months later, he knocks on my door, completely shit-faced. Who did he think he was, knocking on my door after the way he treated (or didn't treat) me? But me, being the sucker I am, took pity on him and drove him back to his apartment.

A lovely surprise waited inside. After helping him into his bed and making sure he wasn't lying in any kind of position where he could drown on his own vomit, my attention was immediately drawn to the living, breathing, molding mass of dishes growing on the kitchen counters and table. What was going on? Sure, Gordo wasn't the neatest guy on Earth, most guy weren't. But this was ridiculous, downright unsanitary. So I did the only thing I could think to do. I ran dish water and called his mother.

His mother loved me. I was like the daughter she never had. She was so happy to hear from me.

"Lizzie," she cooed into my ear like I was her favorite pet. "How are you, sweetheart?"

"Fine," I said with a growing smile.

"That's wonderful," she replied and I could tell she meant it. It'd been too long.

"Listen," I said before I could get onto the tangent that was my life, "I was wondering if something has been going on with Gordo. He seemed a bit out of it, last I saw him." No need for her to know her only son drank himself into a coma.

"He didn't tell you?" Of course he didn't tell me. I wouldn't have called if he had told me. I refrained from yelling this. "He and Betta broke up. He only told me a few days ago, but apparently they split a week or two ago. She wasn't really into the relationship and never really considered his feelings."

Why wasn't I as happy to hear this as I thought I would be? Maybe it was because Betta (full name: Elizabeth, go figure) had never really cared about Gordo the way I had. She had hurt him by not loving him as much as he loved her. I really didn't like her for this. Sure, she was nice, friendly, funny. It's no wonder he liked her and asked her out. But I could tell as soon as I met he that she didn't really like him. Whenever they went somewhere she always brought some of her friends and then didn't talk to him. But he was happy just to be with her. He was blinded. For Christ's sake, she wouldn't let him escort her to her school's prom and refused to go to his. Why couldn't he see that their relationship was one-sided? But, then I over analyze my relationships, trying to make sure that they are never one-sided. Which was worse? To throw all your feelings and emotions into a relationship and find out the feeling is not mutual, or being afraid to put too much emotion into the relationship out of fear that they don't feel the same?

"Is he alright?" Mrs. Gordon's question shook me from my thoughts.

"Oh, yes. He just seemed a little distracted. I just thought I'd call and see if you knew. You two are so close. And, look, you did know. I actually have to go. I have a lot of dishes to wash."

"Okay, I love you sweetheart."

"I love you, too," I replied.

After hanging up, I stood in Gordo's bedroom doorway. He looked peaceful in his sleep. I felt like I could get close to him, finally. He was vulnerable in his sleep. Like he couldn't put up a wall to keep me away. Except for the fact that he wasn't conscious, this would've been the perfect time to get to know the man I cared so much for. Oh well. All I could do now was wash his dishes.

I walked back into his kitchen. Where to start?