the end of the beginning (part two)
During this time, I was faced with the daunting task of finding a new place to live as well as a new job (I was laid off both as a boyfriend and from my picture framing job).
Through the classifieds, I found a guy named Bob who rented rooms out by the week.
He had 3 choices available: small, medium, and large. The smallest went for $35 a week. There was no hesitation in my choice. The bedroom I chose had curtainless windows that spanned the entire 8 foot length of the room. As luck would have it, my window looked directly down on the former house of a former girlfriend. Each morning, with the sun blinding me, I would think of her.
Besides the constant reminder of yet another failed relationship, living in the home did nothing for my mindset. The other occupants were more miserable than me. There was a short man named Charlie who would get so blitzed every night at the Second Place Lounge that he could not walk the half-mile home. I could hear him singing Irish Redneck songs after Bob returned with him and his moped loaded in the back of the Dodge Dart that Bob drove.
Then there was Johnny. From the swagger in his walk and talk, I could tell that he had once been sought after by the ladies. A lifetime of crack had robbed him of his looks but not the swagger. Johnny would steal anything. I once caught him eyeing the cigarette butts in my ashtray. Amazingly, he lived in one of the BIG bedrooms. Shortly after I moved in, the sheriff came to visit Johnny. He was accused of stealing a car. Johnny didn't know nothing about it, of course. The car was found in the parking lot at the airport. When the sheriff came back with evidence to arrest Johnny, he was long gone.
Bob was probably the most interesting of them all. He looked like a white, gray haired Buddha. The only thing he wore were cut-off blue jeans with about a foot of crack showing. If he had company, he'd put on a button-up shirt, but he wouldn't button it. When he walked, his leathery bare feet would scrape across the linoleum and I would fantasize about chopping his feet off with an axe. Most of the time, Bob spent his time hovering over the telephone waiting for it to ring. It never did. Unless it was Charlie needing a ride home. Occasionally, one of my acquaintances from work would call. He always groaned and moaned about having to answer my calls. "I aint no sekaterry" he'd growl. I knew damn well it was the most exciting part of his day and didn't mind reminding him of it.
He would tell stories of his past and, for a while, he was the only person that I talked with.
His other job was manager of a theater in Greensboro back in the days when the 'colored' would sit up in the balcony. He told me how he'd let them sit downstairs on slow nights, but only if they 'didn't stink like ....." .
The thing I hated most about the house was the shower. It took ten minutes standing under it just to get wet. I imagined the water heater also functioned as a coffee maker.
I found work at a movie theater. It was the easiest job I've ever worked. I met some pretty neat young and energetic people there. I'd bring them to the house just to catch the horror on their faces. Out of all the folks there, I probably got closest to the nerdy gay projectionist named Gary. It was Gary that convinced me to move out of the house and into my own apartment. Later, Gary moved into the apartment with me. I had my reservations about living with a gay guy but my money was a lot funnier than he was. Gary soon revealed his true feelings for me. Wasn't long after that, that Gary moved out.
Of all the new people I encountered, I just could not find a way to get attached to them. If they had died by accidentally getting caught in a microwave set on slow defrost, I would not have cared. Simple as that.
Even though they didn't cure my apathy or loneliness, they were valuable as distractions.
When Gary left, I was so bored that I did something I had sworn I would never do: return to Tate Street.
(to be continued next week)
posted by truth @ 4:30 PM
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