gone fishin--Diego

“ lock the doors “ she says to me, a phrase that get repeated every night at exactly 11:34 pm as we close the pizza store, finishing up our night of faded orders. a faint rumor of happiness shared between the air of us whenever we stack the stools, clean the floors, or when i unplug the cheap jukebox they bought, abruptly stopping her favorite song as she stands on the table using the broom as a microphone. it’s been 4 months now. since i walked into the store for my interview, and saw the beautiful jewel sitting in a chair, a diamond dropped from the sky to catch my eye and make me ran straight into a wall in hopes of catching it. that frame of life was one of such happiness, it was so hard to believe that within the same five minutes, the frame would be crumbled up and thrown out when i see her boyfriend come and sit down next to her, not taking her hand or kissing her, but simply staring at the wall, finding such beauty in it that his mind doesn’t notice the thousand dollar heart he just put a crack in. what a concept love is. every night, i go home to a broken house, where father doesn’t love anything except his new wife, her 6 months trumping my 17 years with him and makes me feel like maybe he wasn’t lying when he says i was adopted. it’s hard to leave that pizza place everyday, having to say goodbye to her lovely little face and go back to the house, with a single woman who’s definition of love starts with the words “sometimes. “ i walk to her car every night, cracking jokes like they’re baseballs

to a bat and hope that every new one can make her laugh and forget that her boyfriend hasn’t texted back in two days. and everynight when i open that car door for her, she gets in, rolls down the windows, takes my hand and ends off our conversation with “ - and there’s a million fish in the sea. “ i truly hate when you say that to me. but i keep walking her to that car in the hopes that one night, just one night maybe she’ll say something different when she realizes her boyfriend hasn’t ever, ever been there to make sure she gets home safely. any hope that one day all this waiting will have not been for nothing. but it’s august 27th and no progress so far, maybe when september arrives it brings along with it a fresh dose of love & hope, because august has been hiding those two for a while. and when i get home, i look at myself and lay down, the dark ceiling somehow displaying the brightest image of her smile, a thing that is one third of her mom’s old prom dress, one third of her dad’s old love letters, and another third composed of her boyfriend’s goodnight calls, that he sends with his hand in another girls. i want the life i never had, to make my father proud enough to finally put down the bottle and see that his son’s grades are worth more than letters on a piece of paper. that his new wife is the one that keeps making those bottles of vodka reappear in the fridge. and she has that. that’s why her father finally wants to move, to get out of this small town and move to a place where his daughter can be successful. and that’s why my heart shattered when she told me that tonight was her last night, and that table 3’s order will be her last. we close up as usual, but the jukebox isn’t playing her song, the stools seem to already be flipped, and her smile doesn’t bounce off the walls of the restaurant like they used to. we grab our bags as we prepare to walk out for the final time, in mere minutes the last words may be spoken between us ever. i think back to all those lonely, sleepless nights where i hear my dad stumble to the fridge, i hear my stepmom talking to her new boss who” needs to talk

about work” at 10:46 at night, and i think about how i’ve never said anything about it. i’ve sat there doing nothing and watched the quality of my life waste away before me. as we walk to the doors for the final time i decide to do it, to confess my love for her. to tell her her boyfriend doesn’t deserve such an angel as her, that he can’t even go two nights without texting her bestfriend, and that his heart will never be as sincere as mine. as i reach for the door, i begin to say it “ ashley, i have to tell you... i can’t walk to you to your car for the last time without letting you know that-. “ opening the door, i stop, seeing her boyfriend sitting on the hood of her car with a cold stare on my eyes, watching me walk his girlfriend out to him. my heart drops as i begin to understand why she seemed to be in a rush. and the last words i said to her, finishing off that sentence from six months ago, were “ i hate fish. “