ope Other Four Letter Words

Michael was strolling home from the bar. His eyes were glazed, his mouth was dry and pasty, and feet moved like lead in the ocean. Down the familiar sidewalk between the neighborhood watering hole and the hole in the wall he called home, he walked. His hair seemed to be graying, his wrinkles appeared deeper and he wore a constant expression of bitterness.

\Thirty is too young to look forty,\ Anna had said, just before last call. He knew she was just trying to cheer him up in her own backwards pessimistic sort of way, but her words kept playing over in his head like a bad scratch on vinyl.

He had clenched in his dirty hand a ticket from when they toed his van away earlier that day.

\That\'s what I get,\ he mumbled looking at the wadded up piece of paper, \for hoping.\ Then he looked up and saw her sitting on steps to his apartment building, like she did almost a month ago. He shook his head; \No, it couldn\'t be.\

Angel turned her head towards him; her mascara was running, her cheeks were wet, and her hair was a mess. She had taken out the metal stud from her bottom lip and the bullring from her nose. Her bright red dyed hair was slowly giving way to her light brown roots. She wordlessly walked towards him and placed her head upon his chest.

\Uh, hi. Mercy?\ stammered Michael.

\My name is Angel,\ she murmured.

\You look like shit, babe.\

\Fuck you,\ she responded, whispering. \You smell like booze - I though you were going to quit or at least slow down.\

\Yeah, I did say that, didn\'t I? It has been a bitch of a day, but I think it could finally be worth it,\ he said stroking her hair.

\It isn\'t over yet,\ Angel countered. \Please feed me.\

She picked her head up and looked into Michael\'s dull gray eyes. She then began walking towards the door to his apartment building, looking back briefly to assure herself that he was following.

His apartment was just as she remembered it, a patchwork of unseemly pieces thrown together to form a quilt of unimaginable repulsiveness. He has a white stylish ceramic lamp paired up with this cracked and tacky glowing globe of light, each sitting one a different sized and shaped end table. The loveseat was a torn and tattered light blue leather material that clashed perfectly against light brown carpeting. The Sofa, on the other hand, was clearly refurbished with a brown corduroy material. This was his living room; the rest of his apartment was equally mismatched.

He walked straight towards his smallish kitchen and she followed, seating herself behind the counter, which wrapped halfway around the kitchen area. She glanced around, noticing that he had cleaned up a bit since her last visit. \So,\ he said, \what would you like?\

\Um, two eggs, two strips of bacon, and two pieces of toast would be fine,\ she quietly answered.

\Are you sure you wouldn\'t want some cereal too? I\'ve got sausage and, and bagels, and I can make you more if you\'d like,\ he stammered.

\No,\ she chided, \the last time you made me that much shit, I couldn\'t finish it all, remember?\ She then sighed, \I felt bad. I mean, you cook really good.\

\Really?\

Something struck her as cute; it was like a gangly five year old had replaced the thirty-something pot-bellied man who stood before her now. She almost wanted to hug him. \Really,\ she assured him.

\Two eggs, two strips of bacon, and two pieces of toast.\ Michael repeated, as he reached into his clunky old refrigerator. He turned around to see her gazing down at the table, frowning as if she was looking into the eyes of a dying squirrel. \Are. are you all right?\

\Does it fucking look like I\'m all right?\ she growled. She smiled bitterly and mumbled, \Those were the first words I said to you.\

\Yeah, I know,\ Michael said, smiling fondly. \I\'ve got something I\'ve been wanting to tell you for three weeks; three weeks I\'ve fucking thought about what I\'d say to you when I saw you again. Well, here you are, and, well.\

\What?\ she spat.

\I\'ve read you letter, I mean, I know what you wrote and I feel, I wanted you to, I just wish you would have stayed \'cause I really do feel the same way you, well. Fuck it; I just want you to stay this time, okay?\

\No you don\'t.\ Angel muttered.

\Huh?\

\I said.\ Angel started to respond.

Michael interrupted, saying, \Why do you say that? I want you to stay.\

\I just, I. I didn\'t come back here because I love you or any shit like, I mean, maybe I did, but there\'s another reason and you aren\'t going to like me, hell you probably used me anyway.\

\No. I didn\'t use you. I meant what I said.\ Michael responded firmly, like the father she had always wished for in her head.

\. but, I have.\ she continued to stammer.

\Listen, whatever it is, I don\'t care; I\'ll take care of it. I want you to stay. That night was the first night in a very long time that I fucking felt like a man. I don\'t even care if we never have sex again, I just want you here. Hell, I had my van toed away while I was checking the shelters for you; I had to walk home. I\'ve been checking the homeless shelters ever since you left. I\'ve been alone for too fucking long to let you go. Whatever it is.\

\You don\'t know what it is yet!\ Angel spat as tears started building up in her eyes. \Jesus, you don\'t even know what it is yet and you are already pledging shit and promising shit! You\'re not real!\

\What is it then? Are you pregnant?\ he asked.

\Pft. No.\

\You lied about your age?\

\No, I\'m twenty-three. Do you want me to tell you?\ she asked.

\He didn\'t do something to you again, did he?\ Michael gasped.

\NO!\ she yelled, \No, no, no, you fucking stupid ape! I have AIDS!\ Tears were now streaming down her face paper streams a sick ticker-tape parade. Her voice crackled out, \I fucking hate you. I hate what you make me feel. Why did you make me feel again? I just wanted to kill myself and now someone has finally made me feel like I\'m fucking worth something, and I\'ve killed him. I FUCKING KILLED YOU; don\'t you understand that? I love you and now you hate me. Fuck, I\'m just going to jump off a building somewhere.\

She turned to leave and felt a firm, yet assuring, hand land on her shoulder. His arms quickly enveloped her body as he buried his head into her shoulder, scratching her face with his whiskers. She felt tears trickle down her neck as he mumbled, \I don\'t care; just stay with me.\