I knew that one day I had to lay this down, and even though in the future I know you wouldn’t be able to read this, and I probably wouldn’t have any way of knowing where you are or how you’re doing, unless I ask your step-mother, aunt rather, which I probably wouldn’t anyway.
I know you wouldn’t deny that somehow we were closely acquainted back in the days. It’s quite funny how we met huh? Or rather, got to know each other. Every morning I saw your face, I mean literally, ok maybe not every morning, but most of them of course, and some in the afternoon, because I always did read the daily tabloids at your aunt’s stall. Knowing me, people would think I’m into you all for the exotic nature of the idea. I mean, nobody would take me seriously if I said I would have taken you seriously, I mean, really, would I even have taken anyone, any girl rather, seriously at all? (Not that I’m some kind of fuck boy, people see me as a misogynist, and I try to convince myself that I am to deal with the bitterness)
I think there isn’t really much I would have to say to you, and mainly because we’ve had enough small chat at your stall to know that there wasn’t anywhere to go from there.
You were only a year younger than me, and not much taller, we are of average height, our skin tone had a gap, you had a darker tone than mine, you and I both had rebellious hair, and funny how mine was and probably still is longer. Nobody I knew would say you were pretty, for obvious reasons, and they would only agree that you had a nice body, firm, lean, but still not what most guys prefer. You carried yourself well, in my opinion, but most striking of your aspects were your eyes. You had quite expressive and beautiful eyes. So I kept wondering whether you were someone I would like, just get off to, or might even fall for. I didn’t really, but I did feel and had thought of things which I took note of, mainly due to the fact that you were at fault for those said thoughts and emotions. Oh, and I did fantasize of you some, of course.
We often had small chat, well not so small at times, like when you’ve mentioned the first guy who courted you, or like the time you mentioned how you knew a friend, a girl, who was kind of a prostitute, who I admittedly was a little inclined to meet, which I may have told you anyway, but you told me, she didn’t stray too far from local territory.
There were also times when we talked about your cousin, which also tended to the stall occasionally, and which was also a good acquaintance of mine, funny though, how you and I had a lot more to talk about than did your past-junk-hooked cousin, not that I have anything against people who abuse illegal substances, it is just a life-style preference after all.
We usually talked through the discomfort of the daily heat waves, highway dusts, buyer interruptions, and a general lack of privacy, what with your ‘side-car’ (a small public transportation vehicle with a four person max capacity. It is basically a bicycle with an attachment on the right side for covered passenger seats) driver friends standing by the newsstand. Well their terminal is by that corner after all, and I believe one or two of them were your cousins too, specifically your aunt’s sons.
My good friends knew I had a thing for you, they thought it was funny, but they, as always, wanted to see the results of my actions from a safe distance, but with front row seats. I wasn’t too sure, but I think that most of the ‘side-car’ crew knew that I sort of had a thing for you.
As a by the way, I remember showing you my school I.D. for some reason, I think that was cause you asked me my name then, and it must’ve been a separate occasion when I joked around with you, as I flipped my hair and pretended I was a girl who was quite confident of her long hair, you laughed that time, and I thought it was worth seeing you laugh, you always did have a pretty smile that matched your eyes.
There was also a time when you asked if I had a girlfriend, because it was obvious I didn’t, (I knew you didn’t either, but there were a few guys, and some lesbos, who seemed interested in you, mostly the lesbos for some reason, I even remember how a friend of mine made a crack about how we were meant for each other since a number of gay people also sort of had an interest in me) of course I told you I didn’t, although more accurate if I said “never will”, (I did have a short explicit affair of sorts, but that’s another story.) you asked me “why, I think you’re handsome”, (not to brag, and besides I prefer to see myself as pretty, no homo) I should have told you were pretty yourself, because you were, but I was kind of afraid to say it at the time, I think I was afraid of what people might think of me if I tried to actually make a move on you. I mean of course I understand that my reputation as the sexually frustrated pervert is legendary, and I made it that way after all, but it might’ve gone to a whole new level if they thought “he’s going to screw a newsstand girl”, because no one, and I mean no one would see things as “so sweet of him, not a care of social class” that’s not how anyone here sees me, after all, you yourself saw how I read perverted tabloid papers in public (but that didn’t bother you). It was that same reason I think was why I didn’t buy you the generic medicine I should have when you had a headache, I think you also mentioned how you already did that time. It was a hot day, I could have crossed the highway, but I thought it would have been too much of a gesture, and I didn’t want the local unnoticed cynical eyes to speak. Pathetic of me really, but do I ever care?
You know there was this time you really surprised me, when you asked to have this bracelet I wear. I wasn’t sure I would have, it’s something my mother bought for me, which I’ve told you. I also thought it looked nice on me, but would have on you too, I gave you one of the knots for my hair instead, I saw you wear that often, which somehow, even if for just a little, did mean something to me. I think back, and I think I should have made something for you, I guess, we were friends, though I don’t think we’ll ever see each other again, how do I know?
I do talk to your aunt -stepmom, accurately- sometimes, small chat mostly, she was an open book, kind of like you. At some point, she opened up the fact that you went off, sort of ran away, to live with this lesbo who I usually saw talking to you back then. It didn’t affect me that much, I just thought it was funny, that when I finally felt like I wanted to really talk to you, you disappeared...
Since I got to college, since I’ve gotten used to just hanging around that newsstand to buy or just free-view the news, I’ve already noticed you, I think I even still remember how we first had a conversation. I was sitting on that large water pipe beside your aunt’s stall, reading some erotic portion of a tabloid, you said something about how quiet I was, that I was a little different from the rest, I expanded, we small-talked, and then we were friends. For two and half years, it had been that way, why not three? I think cause that was when you disappeared.
True that I got the reliable info about you from your aunt, but the first time I heard of your disappearance was from your guy cousin, who also treated me as a sort of a friend, he told me out of nowhere that you ran away with a lesbo, jestingly, as if he expected a sort of reaction from me. Although I doubted the authenticity of his words, it had a ring of truth, he was not the type to feed me such nonsense, still I disappointed him, I showed no signs of disappointment, maybe except when I said that it was a shame, although, anyone could say that.
That’s when I confirmed it from your aunt, and I also found out a few more things about you which maybe you were a little reluctant to share with me. Which I understood, I didn’t expect that child you used to take care of was actually yours, you know you didn’t have to hide anything from me, I think it’s my job to hear a story. Also your child’s father was just your age too, a guy who lived nearby, who wasn’t able to provide, naturally, also, I wondered how the guy managed to survive your cousins, then I realized that he was a friend of theirs, so it was no surprise he got away with it.
Your aunt even mentioned how you and the guy did it three or so times, you were drunk after all, (Hell, I even thought she was going to say that you’ve done it with three guys at the same time, which actually gave me a boner, although I fap to you enough anyway) honestly , I don’t know how I was able to get all that from your aunt, she was pretty open about you, and kept uttering about how bad the decisions you made were, that you didn’t think things over enough, which was true anyway. She was really disappointed in you. I asked her if she wanted to get you back, she gave me a reasonable response, she told me it’s what you wanted, that If you come to your senses then maybe it won’t be a problem.
You only came back once, you didn’t stay, guess you really do love that lesbo eh? She mentioned that on a another day, but I didn’t want to keep asking about you, it was embarrassing, and I didn’t want to be known as the guy who kept picking scabs. They know where you live of course, your aunt kept feeling sorry for your child, though of course that’s your problem, living with a lesbo who doesn’t have a stable job. I’m not saying you would have been better off with me, but you should have stayed with your aunt. Still, that was your choice, I have no right to decide for you A, I don’t know if I’ll see you this year, (my last year on that damned college.) I hope you’re doing fine, you know we all only wish the best for you.