When Gordo Laughed
I wrapped my arms more tightly around myself and rocked, numbing myself with the cold. I stood and turned my back to the street, looking up at the door on the house. I willed myself to walk up those steps and bang the knocker, finding it almost as difficult as knocking on Lizzie's door. Silence. I waited impatiently kicking at the ledge in front of the door. I pulled my fists into my sleeves and folded my arms, waiting. Silence. "Please…" Begging had become a part of me… but I waited. I waited for an answer. I turned my back to the street and down the steps. "Fabulous."
The wind whistled, whirling around my ear and I swatted the empty space with a sleeve.
"Miranda?" I turned to see Gordo standing in the doorframe of his house. I walked up the steps again and stood in front of him, clenching my teeth to stop their chattering. The wind stopped its howl long enough for me to unclench them. "Gordo…I." Chatter. He stood there, patient. I think he's being patient anyway. His eyes were fixed on me, but he gave me the look he gave by Lizzie's house. The one that gave me the impression he was looking right through me. It only made me colder. I drew my lips in for a minute before speaking again. "I ne- need to stay here."
"What?" He looked like he cared now. Chatter.
"F-for a lit-tle wh-while." He looked at me for a long time. Scrutinizing in his usual Gordo way, trying to figure out whether or not I was as serious as I looked. Meanwhile, my teeth hadn't stopped chattering and I was beginning to think he would leave me on the porch to develop hypothermia while he just stared. He moved to the side not taking his eyes off me, but I suddenly felt solid again. I stepped in and wasn't surprised at the change in his house. Nothing was the same.
The room was dim and only the TV and one lamp in the corner offered any kind of light to the room. There was less furniture, some corners empty of what used to be sofas or tables or even collectors items of the "Gordon family".
He closed the door behind me and walked into the living room where I followed. He sat by me on the couch. "Why do you need to stay here?" It was my turn to scrutinize. Gordo seemed to be forever changing. He wasn't the same as when I had seen him in the cold, but like who I'd seen stepping inside. He reminded of someone welcomed back to his religion after committing a heresy never thought forgivable.
"I'm having a lot of problems at home." His brows were knitted. "What kind of problems?" There was a pause. "My parents are having some disagreements." I wish I could've kept up this naïve streak when I was swirling the colors on my bedspread.
"Is it serious?"
I slowly nodded. "I think so." I felt like coughing, "understatement". All he found to say was, "Oh."
"What were you doing out there today?"
"Waiting for you to open your door."
He shook his head. "No. Before. When I first saw you."
"Walking."
He smirked and laid his head back on the head of the couch. "Why's there always time to walk when you've got problems? Doesn't help, you know. Just makes you think more and eventually you conjure up new issues in your brain."
"What was your walk about?"
"Nothing, really. Just me being pathetic." There was silence for a minute, giving us more room for thought.
"I know you want her to love you." His head snapped to look at me. "What?"
"You can't make her."
He sat back, softening. "I know."
"No matter how much you wished your love would make her stay." I was hitting one hand with the other now. Back to palm. There was another silence before we started talking again.
"Your parents always seemed to get along so well."
I had to smile bitterly at his comment. "After a while they started fighting and then it got worse."
"Where're your parents now?"
"Well, my mom's at home and probably won't be moving for a while." I lifted my eyes from my hands and focused on him. "He's gone, you know."
He almost did a double take. "Gone?"
"He left. Walked out." I went back to my hands. "Not that I blame him."
I couldn't see the look on his face but I could hear the shock in his voice. "What does your mom think about it?"
"Doesn't matter. She has someone else to finger her." I was struggling with voice as it broke and cheated tears welled in my eyes.
"Miranda…." He placed a hand on my shoulder like it was supposed to have some sort of effect on me.
"She cheated on him, Gordo." I was looking far more pathetic than he ever could've felt. She brought him home and slept with him in my their bed!" Pathetic turned into angry. "Then she blames me!" I was standing up walking around like some enraged lunatic. "She blames me for what she did to him! What she did to me! She blames me and I don't understand why!" I could barely see his face anymore through the blinding tears in my eyes. "Why would she do that…? Why?" I could barely breathe with the tears becoming an issue in my throat. "Why would she do that?" My words were drowning out in my ear and I ran two hands through my hair before I felt him embrace me. We were both reverted.
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I felt like I was at the wall in the kitchen while I waiting for my mom to come back downstairs and say she was sorry. I wanted so much for her to say she was sorry. I could care less if she said it to me…as long as he heard it and it came to mean something.
I slowly untangled myself from him. It felt painful to do: physical taxing. I looked up at him and smiled at me with the same pug eyes. I sat up from the couch where we had moved sometime from my outburst to my tears stopping. I moved back a little and searched for words coming out with, "Sorry."
He snickered. "For what?"
"For my freakish outburst!"
He bent back. "Okay, now you're freaking me out. Next time, just suck it up." I smiled as his pug eyes twinkled, only to look down again. They came back up with that same projecting brow and I suddenly had to ask. "Gordo, what happened to you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You've changed."
"We've all changed, Miranda. Lizzie's popular. Best friends with Kate, dating Ethan," he gave this look of amused amazement when he mused with a wide grin, "wearing Kate's clothes."
"Gordo!" He shrugged a little giving me a look screaming, "What do you want from me?" Then he got somber. "You've changed. Crying on sidewalks, having nervous breakdowns in my living room." A smile. A pause.
"What about you, Gordo?"
"I've gotten taller. Hang by myself, and still I have no yearn to learn what it means to be a man. I've done pretty damn good."
"That why you smoke?"
"I don't make movies anymore."
"But Gordo…that was your passion." He snickered again and I cringed. "Don't be naïve, Miranda. I wouldn't have made it. I had chances before. The documentary, for one and I blew that."
"Is that what you tell yourself now?"
"No, Miranda, that's what other people tell me."
"Since when?" It came out like a hiss. Who would tell him that?
"Since a whole lot of things." He ran a hand through his stagnant hair. "Since Lizzie, since you. Things changed, I told you that. No one really believed in me after you." I wanted to tell him that wasn't true, but things were different. I didn't know Gordo. What right did I have to tell him there were others who believed in him?
"So you started up with cigarettes instead?" The veils of skin came over his eyes even further and I heard him chuckle under his breath. "What else are you smoking, Gordo?" The chuckle got louder and he started laughing. It was bitter like my father's and nearly as loud. He finally returned his eyes to me when he managed to sober up. "I smoke everything, Miranda. My room's a makeshift crack house," he replied staring down at me with a hint of amusement and delirium.
"Gordo…." His head eased on the head on the couch and he smiled wearily. "You're full of so many expressions. You manage to say my name in so many different ways. I could listen to you say my name for hours. You've probably said my name about thirteen times since you got here. Gordo- Gordo- Gordo" He was shifting his face, lifting and raising his voice. Was he high right now? Was I spilling my guts to someone on pot? How had the conversation come to this point?
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Don't know where the story's going. Don't ask.