It’s 2:32 A.M. and I’m walking toward the front door of my apartment building after a long and unsuccessful night of playing wingman for Todd while he tried to pick up bitches at the Westwood Brewing Company. I see something that almost makes me fake an aneurysm so I don’t have to deal with it. Casey’s sitting outside the front doors by the call box. She’s already seen me and there’s nothing I can do. Even though I know the following conversation is unavoidable, I try to pretend I don’t see her sitting in front of the door I have to walk through as I reach for my keys in preparation to enter.
She says, “I’ve been sitting out here like all night. Even though my mom told me not to, I had to come over here. Where have you been?”
“Out with Todd.”
“I can’t do this. I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Not be us.”
She starts crying like a little kid. I don’t say anything. I just stand there watching her sob and wondering how I’m ever going to get her off my porch without actually calling the police and having her forcibly removed.
She says, “Why? Why do you want to do this to me?”
I still don’t say anything. It’s becoming even more apparent to me that this situation could very quickly unfold into the worst moment of my life.
“I just don’t understand it.”
I still don’t say anything.
“Say something.”
I say, “Uh, it’s pretty late and I’m tired. Maybe we could talk about this later.”
“I came all the way over here and sat on your porch for five hours. I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”
I don’t say anything. I put my key in the door, open it, and walk in. Casey just sits there. I go to my apartment and look out the window at Casey, still sitting there. I watch her for five minutes. She doesn’t move except to cry every now and then. Then she stands up and starts screaming.
She says, “You fucking bastard! I hate you and I’m not leaving here until you talk to me! Just come out and talk to me!”
I go into my bathroom and take a long-overdue shit as Casey keeps screaming on the front porch. I’m sure some of my neighbors can hear her screaming but she never uses my name, so I don’t care. She just keeps screaming things like, “You’re a fucking son of a bitch,” and “I’m sorry I ever let you have sex with me,” followed by, “I just want to talk,” and “Please give me a chance to work it out.”
As I wipe my ass she’s still screaming. When I get out of the shower she’s still screaming. When I get in bed, she’s still screaming. When I jerk off thinking about the possibilities of fucking Alyna on our next date, she’s still screaming.
I wonder if she’ll be asleep on my front porch when I leave for work tomorrow morning or if someone will call the cops before then or if she’ll just get tired and go home.