A Random Sequence of Events

February 13, 2014 at 2:14 am (One Particular Angel, Sweet sticky things)

It started out as a simple plan. Hop the bus twenty blocks to the store, to get chocolate milk while it’s on sale. Monday morning, no problem, right?

Sold out of milk. Really? But, no biggie, I get a raincheck good for sixty days, so I can buy milk without waiting for the magic day. Plus, I still have the coupon, and there’s another Freddy’s fifteen minutes away on my bus line.

As I watched the bus sail past… sigh. I went to the bus stop. All the seats were occupied by teens and old people with walker/chairs. I saw the bus back to my house approaching, and traffic on 82nd & Foster had its twice-yearly-parting-of-the-sea. I jaywalked diagonally and caught the bus. I can take the Green Line to Gateway and get milk there.

As I plugged in the Skullcandy earbuds, I got a call from Meg, begging me to run an important errand. “I’ll pay you!”

The farther I travel, the cheaper the milk gets. I rolled on.

I got downtown, and a connecting train was passing. I could ride two stops and say hi to Dr T. We’re at the bottom of the Master P gossip food-chain; likely one of us has some news.

I rolled in, gave a casual wave to Dr T. Melony was about to start her shift. As I began to speak, someone grabbed my butt.

My first thought? God, I hope it’s not a dude.

I’ve gotten pretty good at gauging my reactions. I held steady, poker-faced.Then the big ol’ twinkly smile from beneath the hoodie gave it away. Any thoughts of homophobic homicidal mayhem flew out the window.

It was Angel grabbing my butt.

“I love the look on your face! You turnin’ real slow… looking like you’re gonna drop a hammer on me, then you’re like, ‘OH, it’s my boo!'” I got first hug, but the line formed quickly. Angel is well-liked at our workplace.

“What you up to?” I asked. “On break?” (She works full time at a nearby department store. She knows the ‘hood as good as I do.)

“I had to come see a man about a dog.” She went behind the counter, gave Dr T a big hug and wrote a note. She passed it to Dr T, who filed it away. Hmm. Top secret clown business?

“Going back to work? I can walk you there.”

“Why, thank you sir!” I crooked an elbow, and we rolled out looking like we were up to no good.

We talked for a minute. I don’t know nothing about nothing, but what she told me made me smile in the biggest possible way, and reaffirmed my loyalties to the Master P brain-trust for many years to come. Sometimes you gotta have faith. “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell anyone, but I tell you everything.” Just the offhand way she said that last sentence kicked me in the chest. But again, I don’t know anything about anything.

My hand has a way of slipping into hers as we traverse the downtown core. We’ve been each others relationship support sounding board. I got an update on her S/O’s asshattery. I hadn’t seen or heard from Rain in two weeks. We seemed to be on each others page.

“It sucks,” she said. “What are you doing for Valentines Day? Want to spend it together?”

Hearing those words was like a rush of heroin. A Valentines date with a girl I’ve been pursuing since the first meeting? I could manage that…

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKITY-FUCK. “It’s a work day, and it’s overtime. I need the money.”

“Yeah, I work in the morning too.” She gave me a whatchagonnado smile.

“Well, you know, you get off at 1:45, and I start at 3 PM. That’s an hour and fifteen minutes. It may not be a weekend in Bermuda but we could hang for a minute. I could walk you to the train, or you could walk me to work, or–”

“Let’s do it!”

It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve lurked outside her work, waiting for five minutes face-time and a kiss before she goes off into the night. “Honestly, I’ll probably be blowing up your phone for the rest of the day, so it’ll seem like we’re spending the day together. Just tell me to shut up if I get out of hand…”

“Stop. You’re fine. It’s sweet, really. No one pays me any attention.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Impossible to believe, in fact.

We stopped in front of her work. “So I will be here at 1:45.”

“So will I.” She kissed me on the lips.

I got the greatest look of approval/surprise from the Loss Prevention dude.

As I walked toward my errand for Meg, I pulled out the phone and texted, “The breakdancing butterflies are back.” Happens every time she kisses me.

“I know. I feel all girly.”


In rapid succession, I received texts from my daughter, ex-wife, Meg and Angel. Oh, I’m getting a weed package? Woohoo!

But all I could think about? All I really cared about, all I wanted to do?

Again, gush.


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