Brenda hopes her dark sunglasses hide her smeared makeup, and that her white puffy coat conceals the same wrinkled red dress she wore yesterday--or at least that it covers up the stench. Why did she do that? How did it happen? She was at the airport bar waiting for her shuttle, minding her own business, when that guy, Josh (or so he said), offered to buy her a drink. One drink became two, two drinks became three, and so on. At one point they dared each other to turn off their cell phones for the night. He was really funny. That story he told about being on “The Price is Right” was hilarious.
Eventually they left the airport and went to another bar. What was it called? Annie’s? No--Danny’s. That was it. The darkness and coziness of the place wrapped her up like an old sweater. They danced to old soul music. They drank some more. He was really handsome. She especially liked his five o’clock shadow; the stubble tickled her cheek when he kissed her.
Nothing happened, though. At some point she left, but she had no idea where she was. So she wandered the city streets, spying into insomniac strangers’ still-lit apartments, stargazing at the lights on top of skyscrapers. Then it was dawn. Now she is on this train to Evanston, and she hopes Bethany won’t be furious that she never showed up last night. She won’t be angry once Brenda tells her the story. It’s a good story.
Elisa & Tracey: Seen near the Lincoln Ave. Bus Stop at about 1:15 p.m., February 29th, 2012
Elisa and Tracey hold hands as they stroll down Lincoln Avenue. Elisa intertwines her fingers with Tracey’s as lightly as possible, as though she cannot wait to set this germy object down and bathe her hands in Purell. The fact is, Elisa has to break up with Tracey. She has to. It’s just not working. But how can she dump her on a day like this? The sun is out, it’s 60 degrees, Tracey is literally humming that one Beatles song, “Good Day Sunshine.” It’s like the universe is conspiring against her, like they’re meant to be together for 24 hours more. Elisa pulls out her phone with her left hand and checks the weather for the week. Thursday it’ll be much colder, and Friday it’s supposed to rain. Maybe she’ll do it Friday. Rainy days are good for a break up, right?
Two stories to make up for the lack of story yesterday. Sorry about that--work was insane. Here is a picture of 90's goth Becky and friends from Saturday night:
Hilarious. In other news, I'm sad that Davy Jones died. In other news, we're going to win trivia tonight. That's my story.