alexander's lover

o c t o b e r

      i was immediately robbed of all bodily heat i had managed to create when mr. tobego opened the door, and allowed the october air to enter. i tightened my scarf around my spotted neck and slid my books into my jansport. by the time i looked up, the class room was empty and dark, the speckled blue painted hard-wood floor glistened a vibrant blue on the paper walls. ''have a good weekend ms. harmon'', mr. tobego spoke over his open laptop, not shedding me a glance. ''you too'', i hummed. i'd like to say i was his favorite student, because i did what i was told, and never talked, ''a quiet student is a good student'' i remembered him say on the first day of school. ginger, my long time acquaintance was silently leaned against the door stop picking at her finger nails. i call ginger my acquaintance because we are only around each other during school, we don't have each other's numbers, information, i don't even know her last name, 'commercial friends'. i kept her company during football games, and warm during gym. she had recently gotten a truck, and wouldn't stop talking about it, a 1966 jeep wrangler, ''but it's old'' i'd murmur, ''trucks are like wine and men, they only get better the more they age'' she'd analogize, ''kind of like your chuck's'' she'd point to my shoes. i mean i get her point, converse do look better the dirtier they are. ''what you up to?'' she questioned, i shot her a look, ''nothing'', i'm bout' the most boring person you'd ever meet. i live with my alcoholic uncle who's never home, so all i do is sit, and read, and eat, and talk to myself. ''don't get so worked up'', she chuckled, wiping at her heavy eye makeup. she was obsessed with her eyebrows, over filling them sometimes, to the point where they'd look fake, i'd constantly remind her that just forty years ago, thin eyebrows were in. ''i'm pretty sure the makeup tutorials you watch advice you to wipe the concealer from around your eyebrows'', i commented, staring at the white ring surrounding her brows, she looked a mess. she didn't have anything else, so she just retorted a quick ''shut up'', which i gladly excepted.

      the over sized oak door made a considerable amount of noise as i closed it, i tossed my keys on the granite counter top, and checked for my guardian, hoping he'd be passed out on the couch. i wandered up the steps without a ''good afternoon'', or ''how was school sweety?'' just silence, my thoughts were too loud, so i placed a record on the record platter, and the needle where i wanted it to be, rewinded the album, then, after pressing in the red button; it played. a chorus of backwards pig-latin, then violin. the melody mellow, some italian man speaking in his native language sounded through out my somber room. i sat at my bay window as i peeled off my socks and pants, replacing them with a pair of white cotton shorts. i did considerably well for a teenager who doesn't, and never has gotten their homework checked. my hair was tied up in a red scrunchie with a bow at the end, a replica of the one in 'heathers' by the time the contents of my bag were strewn across my floral bed spread. i opened my spanish binder with a solemn breath, beginning my strenuous homework.

      by seven pm, my uncle opened the door whispering a song to himself, he ignored all my words and gestures, he was in his own little world, counting and organizing his case of beers before laying them carefully on the empty rack in the fridge, like he was tucking a child into bed. i had given up on any attempt the converse with him, so i turned a heal and went back up the steps. i let my record play out again until eight, finalizing the night with a shower, minty breathed, i brushed through my hair. everlastingly curly, honey brown, thick and difficult to manage, so i usually just resort to a bun or a ponytail. the steam from my bathroom leaked from under the door, and covered my bedroom in a thick fog. i piled my books on my little white desk and folded back my sheets.