The Bad Mom

I work in retail, which mostly consists of dealing with a bunch of assholes pissed off that we don’t validate their parking.  I called for the next customer in line.  The world went into slow motion as a man who looked confused and out of place wanted to purchase a couple of t-shirts.  I was taken by his southern accent, which was all starting to make sense now.  He had a glimpse of crazy in his eyes.  He returned the next day, “another T-shirt huh?”

“You remember me?”

“Some people are hard to forget.”

He returned again the next day, “so do you do anything else besides buy t-shirts?”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Yes.”

“I paint, for the galley next door.”

That night I googled the gallery and found his paintings.  Wait I’ve seen this work before…. One of his paintings is hanging in my doctor’s office.  Weird.

The next time he came in, my mouth said, “I had a crazy dream about you last night.”

What?

You were getting undressed in the fitting room and I accidentally walked in on you…

“Would you like to have coffee tomorrow,” he asked, “I should tell you that I have a girlfriend.”

I guess.

We met at the trendy coffee shop where you can’t help but feel uncomfortable by all the coolness in the air.  We got our coffees.  He says he’s having a panic attack and needs to go up to the VA for his Valium. 

“I LOVE the VA hospital! I hang out there just for fun.  It’s like the bus times a thousand.”

Can I go with you?”

Are you nuts?

We spent the next 3 hours in the waiting room surrounded by grumpy old one-legged men reeking of cigarette smoke. 

He dropped me off at the coffee shop where my bike was locked up.  He asked me for my phone number then called me an hour later to ask me if I put a curse on him?

No.  Why?

I got into a car accident a block after I dropped you off.

No, I’m just bad luck.

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