Queen of Cups

Our Rooming House—MORNING

I am awake. All dreams are of joyous summer.

The old lady, Maggie, has no chores for me to help her with though it is a pleasant may Sunday morning. So I go back to bed with Andrea, whom I have re-found.

Or Iris.

Or Mary.

Or Anna.

Doesn’t matter. She is faceless. We are naked. She lies atop of me I squeeze her as tight as I can.

“I apologize,” I apologize, “But I have wanted to be close to you. Someone. For so long and don’t want lose you now.”

She is faceless, but smart, competent professional. I brought the girl home and we got close, but she rejected my moves instead asking me about Andrea.

Or Iris.

Or Mary.

Or Anna.

It doesn’t matter. Someone faceless now.

However but she didn’t like my answers so she said good night. As she left I called her cell.

“I apologize,” I apologize, “I just want to wish you a safe trip home.”

“You’re so sweet, hold on,” she said.

Soon she was knocking gain. When I opened the door she ran in and embraced me. We made out, moving towards the bedroom. She asked if I have any condoms.

“I should,” I said “My ex and I only did it three times, so there must be half a box somewhere.”

“Please, stop while you are ahead,” she said.

I woke up joyous this morning after last night with her.

She fixes some food, but things are awkward. Then she goes back to bed to study. I climb in a spoon her a minute.

“I know you are busy,” I say “I wouldn’t mind a lazy Sunday reading in bed either.”

“Sorry, but,” she says, “I have no time for you.”

She had already suggested as much at breakfast.

“No, no, it is not my intent to smother you,” I say, and leave.

There is no reason we can’t build something. I do the dishes and take out the trash. I come back to find she has folded my clothes and left then on the coffee table. Looks like a note too but I don’t read it. The bedroom door is shut. I get the picture. I dress quickly and leave.

I make the short walk from my place down to Maggie and Lou’s, who know Andrea, and let me whine a bit about being used and thrown away. Maggie comforts.

“Perhaps I can call Andrea and talk to her.”

“Doesn’t matter now. I don’t care,” I say, “I am depressed but done with it.” I go home, the girl is gone. Maggie and Lou come over with some food for me to make me feel better.