I’m broken. He left me the day we got our marriage license. For the past three months, I’ve done nearly nothing other than sit in a rocking chair and stare at the phone, waiting. Waiting for this.
He went back to his ex-girlfriend, now they’ve split up. He wants sympathy from me, and I give it to him. Damon tells me all the ways Julie was such a fucking cunt, how he was wrong to leave me. How she left him for someone else, stupid bitch. I tell him I forgive him for everything. For the split lip, for leaving me, all of it. I love him, I tell him over and over, hoping to erase his pain.
“Come home,” he says finally. So I do. Continue reading
Guillermo, the owner, has warned me about having visitors show up while I’m working. Damon waits for me by the back door. I hand my order off to Mirna, the cook. I gesture towards the door and tell her I’ll be back in uno momento. “I no like that boy,” she hisses in broken English across the kitchen. She says it every time and always makes sure it’s loud enough for Damon to hear.
“I got it!” Damon says, waving around a piece of paper. I unfold it. “You did it!” I squeak. It’s a marriage license. He’s been promising this for months. I hug him as Guillermo stalks up, ready to chew me out. “We’re getting married!” I say. Guillermo brightens. I know he’s embarrassed to have an unmarried pregnant nineteen year old girl working in his restaurant.
“I gotta go back to work,” Damon grins, picking me up and twirling me around. “I’ll see ya at home.” I’m so excited that I can’t stop grinning. “Mirna, I’m getting married!,” I tell her as I pick up my order. She glares, then softens. “Good,” she says finally, “that baby need family, he innocent, he don’t know no better.” Continue reading