It was in a diner on a Saturday
When I decided it was over.
I’ve all this shit going on, I told Cindy.
I really think we’re better off as friends.

Cindy was on my side because she always is
Which is why I tell her everything.
That makes sense, she said,
He’ll understand that.  How could he not understand that?

I didn’t want to go with Lyle anymore.
But you know how he is, I said.
Cindy nodded gravely.
Really, I never told her the truth.

Lyle always got fatal over break-ups.
It was always about soul mates and my loss
And how fuck-ing stupid I was being.
And why did I always have to cry?

What do you think he’ll do? Cindy said.
Her eyes were round and watery,
like a pair of eggs
Shocked to find themselves sunny side up.

I tried to imagine him, doing something.
I pictured his eyes, lids hung at half-mast,
A disgusted look on his face.
Maybe he’d yell something generic.

He’ll probably threaten suicide again, I said,
Like I’d called a real high-rolling bluff
And won.
He’ll go crazy.

He’s such an asshole, Cindy said,
I mean, he can be.  Her voice softened.  Oh.
I know, I said to Cindy.
I huffed and pretended I couldn’t eat.

Lyle is out with his buddies tonight.
He’ll call me later and tell me he scored some smack.
He’ll tell me to relax, he’s not gonna die tonight.
He’ll tell me to hold on while he pukes.

And I will.
I’ll hold on.

TAGS: , ,

LISA RAE CUNNINGHAM is a massage therapist. She lives in Los Angeles with her son.

3 responses to “Another Conversation”

  1. Welcome aboard, Lisa. Thanks for being a part of TNB.

  2. Ducky Wilson says:

    I like how you’ve put us right there in that diner. I’m at the next table. Eavesdropping.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *