I sigh. It’s a long night at work. It’s one of those nights where you just want to poke your finger through your eye and whirl it around because you have nothing better to do. This place is known for its five-minute minutes. Dear God, I have two more hours to go... I sigh. I take a swig of the soda I borrowed from the bar (by "borrowed" I mean that I took it from them, will drink it, and return the empty can if I feel like it) and down a few pain pills. The rolling of heavy balls and the clattering of pins does nothing to help my headache and my back is absolutely killing me. I don’t sleep any more. When I do, it’s not good sleep, or for long. There will be more on that later on. In case you haven’t figured out yet, I work in a bowling alley. The Panorama Bowling Alley in Tampa, to be exact. It’s right near the water and the highway. And, as luck would have it, it’s Rock and Bowl night.
The door just opened. More people. I want to crack my head off of the cheap countertop. I look up and change my mind. Five guys, each better looking than the prior. They pay the five-dollar cover charge at the door and approach me. I don’t look into their faces when they approach. Two games plus rental. Hands over the ticket. $2.50. Ticket, pay, repeat. Ticket, pay, repeat. Ticket, pay, repeat. Ticket, pay. After getting their sizes and placing the shoes on the counter, I finally look up. A pair of very familiar blue eyes is staring at me and almost through me... almost like he recognizes me from somewhere but can’t place the face. I know this look. He does know me but I changed my appearance drastically since he last saw me. I smile at him. He still looks at me the same way, but smiles in return. Things are coming back to him, I see. I point to my nametag on my shirt. It’s black and oval but I painted it over with sparkly nail polish. "Panorama Bowling," it reads, and below it, "Diva Dee." He thinks about this.
He still looks confused. I walk around the counter and approach him. He’s grown since I saw him last. He towers over me and the top of my head barely reaches his shoulder. "Now you can’t tell me you don’t remember me, Nicky; I thought I was your best friend," I smile sweetly. The truth is that I am his best friend. Granted, I’m nearly four years his senior, but I’ve known his as long as I could remember. I grew up in a house just down the street from his. I lived with my grandmother. I used to baby-sit him and when he went off to auditions in Orlando with his mother, I would watch his little siblings. They loved me for obvious reasons.
Finally, my identity comes to him. "Lore," he whispers, almost shocked.
"I can’t believe you forgot I worked here, Nicolas, tisk tisk." I shake my head mockingly.
"My God, Lore, you look great," he finally smiles the smile that I knew for so long and honestly missed.
"Well don’t just stand there, give me a hug, sweetheart." He picks me up into his arms, literally, and it feels like he doesn’t want to let me go. He’s a singer in some musical group I didn’t listen to very often. They were good and all-don’t get me wrong-but I just never really listened to them. The Backseat Boys... no, that’s not it... The Backdoor Boys? I don’t know, but you get the idea. The group, whatever their name is, toured often and rarely came home. My Nicky never forgot me, though. I would get a letter from him twice a week. I could set my watch by it. That was probably six or seven years ago when they started out; I don’t remember. He’s grown a lot since then, but his handwriting’s just as bad. And I've kept all of his letters. They're in a rather large box in the trunk of my car with a photo album. He wrote long letters. But why my trunk? More on that later, too. "I’ve missed you, Nicky," I smile when he put me down.
"I’ve missed you too. God, you look great," he smiles in return. And I did look great, too. My hair was down to the middle of my back and dyed dark red. I live in Florida but I’m as pale as a ghost and my hair color made my appearance that much more drastic. I had lost a lot of weight since I saw him last. That was almost eight months ago.
"So do you," I nod. "Who are your handsome friends?" His face falls blank. "You know, the guys you walked in here with?"
"Oh, right." He turns around to call the other guys over. "Lore, this is Brian," Hi, Brian, "his cousin, Kevin," Hey Kev, "AJ, you should get along with him pretty well," Hi, AJ, "and Howie." *pause to drool* "Guys, this is my best friend, Delores."
I smack him. "I told you a thousand times never to call me that, Blondie."
...
There isn’t much of a crowd so we all talk for a few minutes. They go off to play their games, and I finish off my two hours of work. They all wait for me to punch out. "Lore, we’re all headin back to my house to watch a few movies tonight, wanna come over?"
"I don’t want to impose. I mean, there will be five of you, Mom and Dad C., and all the kids..."
"They’re in California, remember? And plus, it was a tight squeeze in my car on the way over here. We need another car to get home so it’s more comfortable."
"Where’s the Durango?"
"In the shop, I had to drive the car."
"Poor baby," I shake my head.
"Come on, it’ll be fun. Like old times."
"Except that I won’t be changing any diapers this time."
"Right, right," he nods. "All the guys are sort of vacationing at my place for a little bit until we head back to Orlando in a few days. Maybe you could spend the night, too."
"Free food, a good time, and a place to bunk. I’m in," I smile.
"Good. D. will ride with you." I arch one eyebrow in confusion. "Howie?" he attempts to clarify.
"Sounds good to me." We make our way into the parking lot. "Ah, Christ," I mumble under my breath. "Listen, we’ll be over in a few... I, uhm, have some stuff to go through first."
"You know the way, I’ll see ya there." The four pile into Nick’s car and quickly drive away. Howie and I stand in the parking lot in silence. No one is at the alley since it was after closing.
"So, what did you have to go through?" he finally asks almost uncomfortably. He knows there's something going on that I wouldn't tell Nick.
My God, he’s hot, I repeat to myself. "What? Oh, uhm, it’s nothing... I just, uhm, have to, uhm, prepare you for something, I guess." I lead him towards my car that was behind the building in a dark spot.
"And what’s that?" He was getting nervous by the darkness.
"I didn’t say anything to Nicky because I knew he’d go all psycho on me so I figured I would wait until I was at his house. That way, I’d have somewhere to hide and get a place to sleep." I unlock my doors and we climb in.
"What’s all this in the back?"
I sigh. "Welcome to my home."
...
The ride over to Nick’s isn’t as quiet as I thought it would be. Howie could care less that I live in my car, or else he acts that way. I explain why I had to live there and I think he understands. He’s got a good heart and a gentle soul. I really like him.
