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After waiting two very long days, it's finally Sunday. Yesterday, I had gone out to buy some more beer for momma so she can be happy when she returns. Well, if she returns. I used twenty of the eighty dollars Mr. Pretty gave me. That leaves me with sixty bucks plus the two hundred and three dollar paycheck I earned that I cashed in the other day. All for tonight—our date as friends.
I won't be spending every last penny, duh. But I brought some extra cash in case we have fun and choose to do something afterwards.
Since it's spring, the streetlights go on when it's fairly light out. What time am I supposed to be at the diner? Seven o'clock? Eight? Ten?
I would text him and ask, but I decided to not annoy him. Can't have him canceling on me, can I?
When it hit 7:30, I began my walk to the diner. It's about a forty minute walk, which means it'll be getting dark around the time I get there. Plus, I highly, highly doubt he is going to be early for this little date-as-friends.
What's it called?
A hang up?
Hang out, Athalia. Geezus.
Thank goodness it's nice out tonight. I'm wearing a white summer dress covered with tiny blue flowers, and a baby blue sweater. I was going to wear sandals, but decided against letting Levi see my unpainted toes for free, so instead I'm wearing white socks with blue ruffles at the top paired white high-top sneakers. I also brought along a cute little purse to hold money and my cherry lipgloss.
It's my favorite outfit to wear because it doesn't consist of sweatpants and sweatshirts and any other baggy piece of clothing. It makes me feel pretty.
Momma says it makes me an attention-whore. Whatever that is.
I reach town pretty quickly. It's still another fifteen minutes to the diner. The sky has darkened, but not very much. I keep myself distracted by humming Make It Shine from Victorious and trying my best not to step on any cracks.
I'd rather not have momma come home with a broken back.
My thoughts trail to her. I hope she's okay, wherever she is. The chances are slim, but maybe she's getting help somewhere. Besides, I should be thankful she's away. I haven't been beaten in a while, and the break feels nice. My bruises are healed, I had to conceal only a little bit of green under my eye.
Lost in my head, I nearly fall on top of a woman sitting on the sidewalk. "I am so sorry!" I say to her. She's frail, her hair graying. I notice the dirt on her hands.
Aw, she's homeless.
She glances up at me. "That's okay, pumpkin. I am in your way, aren't I?"
The lady scoots back against one of the many buildings in town, moving her cardboard spot and her quilt as well. My heart breaks for her.
