3. el diablito: la borrachera sigue
by jennifer
2. la borrachera and slutting accident
the phone rings and rings sharply through the quiet blue grey of my room. i awake, agitated, still groggy, but knowing it must me him. i am too slow and clumsy. by the time i roll out of bed and find my phone, there is a new voicemail message from alejandro.
"call me when you get this message. my number is xxx-xxxx."
neither in control of my motor skills nor retaining much of a memory for numbers, i dial three or four wrong phone numbers. through sheer drunken determination, i finally get the number right. he answers quickly.
"what are you doing?" alejandro asks.
"sleeping!" i slur.
"come over."
"i can't drive anywhere. i'm drunk."
"then i'll go over there. where do you live?''
"you can't come over. my roommate and i have a rule. no boys spending the night."
he is quiet, as if in thought.
"and besides," i blurt, "i know all about you!"
"what are you talking about?"
"you have a reputation," i say the last word slowly, "reh-pew-TAY-shun."
"who told you that?"
"lots of people."
"people shouldn't be talking shit."
"well how many girls at the party tonight had you slept with?"
"just one!" he says, defensively.
amazed that he answered that question, i persist. "what about _______?" i ask, too drunk to realize that i'm saying one name but thinking of another woman.
"who?"
i insist on the name. finally he figures out who i'm talking about. "_______ (a different name)?"
"yeah, her!"
"ok. her too."
"see! i don't want to be just another notch on your belt!" i drunkenly declare.
"you wouldn't be a notch on my belt," he insists. "i like you."
he tells me how he's been thinking about me since the night we met. that he had wanted to talk more to me that first night, but that i had left early. how he had hoped that he would see me at this party. how disappointed he was when he saw me with frank.
my edge softens, and i am no longer indignant. i apologize for being rude. "i say things i shouldn't when i'm drunk."
"that's ok," he says, sounding slightly hurt. "i'll call you tomorrow to check up on your, ok?"
"ok."
1. el encuentro
2. la borrachera and slutting accident
the phone rings and rings sharply through the quiet blue grey of my room. i awake, agitated, still groggy, but knowing it must me him. i am too slow and clumsy. by the time i roll out of bed and find my phone, there is a new voicemail message from alejandro.
"call me when you get this message. my number is xxx-xxxx."
neither in control of my motor skills nor retaining much of a memory for numbers, i dial three or four wrong phone numbers. through sheer drunken determination, i finally get the number right. he answers quickly.
"what are you doing?" alejandro asks.
"sleeping!" i slur.
"come over."
"i can't drive anywhere. i'm drunk."
"then i'll go over there. where do you live?''
"you can't come over. my roommate and i have a rule. no boys spending the night."
he is quiet, as if in thought.
"and besides," i blurt, "i know all about you!"
"what are you talking about?"
"you have a reputation," i say the last word slowly, "reh-pew-TAY-shun."
"who told you that?"
"lots of people."
"people shouldn't be talking shit."
"well how many girls at the party tonight had you slept with?"
"just one!" he says, defensively.
amazed that he answered that question, i persist. "what about _______?" i ask, too drunk to realize that i'm saying one name but thinking of another woman.
"who?"
i insist on the name. finally he figures out who i'm talking about. "_______ (a different name)?"
"yeah, her!"
"ok. her too."
"see! i don't want to be just another notch on your belt!" i drunkenly declare.
"you wouldn't be a notch on my belt," he insists. "i like you."
he tells me how he's been thinking about me since the night we met. that he had wanted to talk more to me that first night, but that i had left early. how he had hoped that he would see me at this party. how disappointed he was when he saw me with frank.
my edge softens, and i am no longer indignant. i apologize for being rude. "i say things i shouldn't when i'm drunk."
"that's ok," he says, sounding slightly hurt. "i'll call you tomorrow to check up on your, ok?"
"ok."
posted @ 12:16 PM
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