I'm sitting in the cold, feet and hands still numb, even with the warmers I've got on. I'm not sure how long I've been out here, but I can’t leave. I just sit, acting like I belong here, hoping Momma A's plan will work.
I've hung out under the bridge, just watching Nattie in her environment, for three days now. Not all day, but a few hours here, a few more there, all in the hopes that my "new" ratty clothing and ragged appearance will make Nattie feel like I belong, and let me talk to her.
She hasn't bitten yet. I catch furtive glances my way, almost as if she's trying to figure my game out. She's moved further away each time I come out, and I'm just assuming she thinks I'm a cop. That was Momma A's fear. That she would think I was an undercover and steer clear. Besides lighting up a crack pipe and smoking one, there's no real way for me to show her that I'm not, so I just wait, trying to act like I'm just another homeless person, doing nothing all day, but sitting on the street.
A car slows and stops right in front of her, and she immediately gets in with a grin. Another John, I assume. Making her money to buy the poison for her pipe. I watch them roll quietly away out of the corner of my eye, pretending that I'm messing with a hole in my pants, and I see her watching me.
I finally raise my gaze to her; our eyes meet and we stare as they pass me. First direct eye contact with my mother, and I have to admit the unexpected tug at my heart. Then the anger comes, and I get up. I'm done for the day. I think I've reached my limit that quick.
I jog the three blocks to where my truck is parked, more to get warm then anything else, and the long wait for the damn truck to heat up just adds to my mood. I almost hate her, but have a fascination as to who she really is and why she is the way she is. Was it the drugs that made her give me up? I can't recall much, but nothing I can gives me any clues.
I wrack my memory the entire way to the apartment and I’m no closer to figuring it out. My hand goes to my doorknob and I curse. It's unlocked. That means Momma A is in there, or has been in there since I left. She knows no boundaries, and while at times frustrating, I actually don't mind it much. It's kind of nice knowing someone worries, just not all the time. Like when I walk naked out of the bathroom and she's sitting at my table.
That. Was. Awkward. She acted like nothing was wrong as I sprinted to the bathroom for a towel. The lesson? I can't drip dry in my apartment. Ever.
Pushing the door open, I wait for the smell of cabbage stew, but instead, I get meat, potatoes, and other amazing smells. Not sure what this means, I head into the mini kitchen area and freeze. Another intruder. Not one that has been in here before to my knowledge, but an intruder nonetheless.
Leaning against the door frame, I chuckle and she jumps. "JESUS! Warn a woman next time, will you?"
I walk in, and filch a roasted potato out of the pan, juggling it as it cools before popping it in my mouth. The flavors burst over my taste buds and I almost moan. "In my own place? I need to warn you? When you aren't even invited? Let me guess, I can thank your twin for giving you the key?"
She carries the food to the table, I grab a couple of beers, and we eat. We don't talk, and my mind wanders. I start off thinking about the eye contact I had about an hour ago. What did it mean? What should I do next? What would Paris say?
As soon as I think of her, it happens again. I immediately start an imaginary conversation with her in my head, telling her what just happened, and what I think she would say. I know she would probably tell me that I should just do it, face the music and talk to her. I know she would support me in this, and I almost feel her hands rubbing my shoulders, giving me that comfort she always has.
"You done eating and living in that brain of yours, Joel?" I look over at Sonnie and she's leaned back in her chair, just staring at me. "You know it's rude to ignore your company like this, right?"
I chuckle and grab our now empty plates, and bring them to the sink, commenting as I go. "Probably not as rude as breaking and entering is, boss lady."
"True point, J-man. True point. Now I will do these dishes so you can get ready for work, before your boss fires you for that comment."
I laugh and grab my work clothes, totally ready to get out of these nasty clothes I'm still wearing.
Heading into the bathroom, I toss out one last comment before I slam the door. "Now, no peeking through the keyhole. I don't want you to pass out from the sight of my perfection."
I chuckle when I hear her snort through the door, take a fast shower and am getting dressed, when I notice my scruff is pretty thick.
Opening the door, I call Sonnie over. Her face appears in the doorway, taking in my topless state and rolls her eyes. "You know, Joel, your dick, pecs and chest hair do nothing for me, right?" Her eyes race over my torso, and she laughs.
"Trouble loves you? I could have told you that just by looking at you." I ignore the tat comment, because she doesn't know the true meaning of it, and I'm not in the mood to get into it.
"Shave or no shave?" I run my hands through the scruff, wondering what Paris would think of it. It's the thickest I've ever had it and it's almost a forest.
"No shave. Not one hair on your chinny-chin chin. A homeless person doesn't shave, dumb ass."
"True... Never thought of that. Guess I would be a shitty one without Momma A's shopping and your shaving advice."
Laughing, I push past her, nudging her with my shoulder as I go. I tug on my shirt, and look back at her. "Ready to head to work, boss lady?"
---TBC---
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