carry-a-key and you're there

later that rainy (no) sun-day,

I got a text from a random number, it was him, American Spirit. "See, told you I'd get your digits." Indeed he did, although it shouldn't have been too hard, knowing the curly haired kid in the backseat next to him had them. He invited me to Abre Mis Ojos, drink vino and kiss the sunrise (some drinks had gotten to me by this point and I thought he said kiss til sunrise, so I was a little more than taken back, who does he think he is? and how does he know I love cheesy lines like that?) I knew code for get down, and I wasn't about to fall for a classic movie make out line, especially in a home, his home. Home was a place I forgot existed. I lived in a house, with people. We were not a family this time, not necessarily friends. They were simply there. I was there. We co-existed. Home was a place I had distanced myself from for awhile and wasn't sure how to handle.

So Catherina and I discussed the previous night.
Whenever we were together the world seemed to kneel. But we were nice girls. We took advantage but we never took for granted. Our moms were friends while they were pregnant with us. Her carrier's work involved fluffing the likes of Minnie, Mickey and Donald. Mine shopped till she dropped (literally she did one day) and racked up my father's credit cards. Daddy was half way around the world anyway so what was she to do with all that time and money? Loretta and April bonded quickly, the first time to be mothers were due near the same time, shared a love for Mr. W.D. and believed in similar family values. They would be excellent mothers. Strict and a little naive at times, but raised em well. Would they be happy 23 years down the road? Who knows, but they were then, and that's what mattered.

Cath and I went for sushi and headed out to a shitty local bar we all held a love/hate relationship towards. Sunday was karaoke night and a superstar named Dwayne, that I 'had to see,' was a regular showstopper. We sat and laughed at the sad singers, secretly hoping to not be one of them in our next 23 years, well okay maybe, but only if we were together as sad singers, when out walked Jane Claremont, one of my old best friends from high school. I hadn't seen her since summa summatime. I was too busy or she was too high. I always loved that girl but the forces of time and management were against us. *Look to the right and who's that guy, I swear I've seen him before, past life perhaps?*

"Nat, you remember Julius," giving me the nudge. Of course I remember Julius. He was the little ape looking kid with stick out ears who was a year younger than us and always awkwardly stared towards the senior girls. I always thought his shyness was cute. I was weirder and definitely more awkward then he ever could have been, I'm sure, so it was all good.
Julius was all grown up now and his ears fit. Well dressed, well trained, well worked out (and it showed). He drifted over, confidently- he was no longer that timid little junior, he was a man. He was a fighter, no really. He had street cred. And he did all that cage fighting shit. And, apparently he still had it for me. He bought us all drinks, and MADE me perform a duet onstage with him. I didn't even have to wait 23 years to become a sad singer. We lived on a prayer and sang about summer dreams he and I had yet to share. Dwayne (who'd granted a passionate/molester type kiss to Cath's face) even came to sit with us, after many standing ovation deserved and recieved performances, and offered his wallet. Julius of course stole the bill and paid for us all. He was the perfect gent.
We ditched our dive bar display and the group exchanged our numbers and hugs and goodbyes.

Wet Bandits, as we called ourselves, never end the night when everyone else does. Hit the 92 and off to Them. A whole season of 24 wouldn't have even been over since the time we'd last seen them. But there was something addictive, exciting, who were these new creatures from the night before? Could they possibly be as dangerous and engaged every night? Mr. Gatsby is that you?
No. We stopped by someone's 'crib', fully stocked with a Latina maid fixing the drain at 3:30 am (what?), a bunch of fools sitting around faded or stoned out of their minds, and apparently my American Spirit was upstairs, drunk and passed out. Right.

But that didn't matter right now- what mattered was: In the past four months I'd shared beds with too many I didn't know, didn't love, and could never love again. Had I been bored? Horny? Afraid to sleep alone?
Something was new here.
Could this be possible? Two guys. Two nights. INNOCENT at that, and all of the sudden I'm overwhelmed with new emotion and a flame of excitement sparked that none of these past flings in my home away from home were able to light. Maybe it was because, finally, I was back. I was digging down to my roots. I was surrounded by people who actually had the same area code!

I crept into that brown house on St. Thomas lane, passed by April's open door as she muttered some sleepy form of goodnight. I rested my head upon the pulled back bed, and finally.. i was Home.