I didn’t fall asleep until sometime between two and three a.m., and I woke up gasping around five. I’d had some dream about drowning, but I couldn’t remember the details. I laid back down and didn’t get up until around six. I think I may have dozed off a little, but I wasn’t sure.
My phone was vibrating. I flipped it open and grunted into it.
“Look alive, sunshine,” Jonah said.
“Hi.”
“Downtown?”
“I’m on my way.”
We hung up.
I ran into the bathroom to splash water on my face, brush my teeth, and fix my eyeliner, then left on yesterday’s jeans, changed my shirts, and put on my shoes. I grabbed my wallet, mp3 player, and coat and darted out the door thirteen minutes later.
At the bus stop, I turned my mp3 player on and noticed the battery was half-empty. Oh well. It should get the job done, at least for now.
The bus came. The ride downtown was relatively short, partially because very few people were waiting for a bus at 6:20 a.m., and partially because there wasn’t very much traffic out. I was downtown by 6:35 and on the roof by 6:38. Jonah wasn’t there. I dug around for my phone to see if he’d called and . . . realized I’d left it at home. Again.
Fuck.
I kicked at some newspaper and felt awkward. I jumped when a raucous punk song came on shuffle, and realized that I hadn’t even been listening to the music anyway.
I sat down eventually to face the right, away from the ad. I didn’t feel like looking at that thing this morning.
Jonah appeared at 6:53. I hadn’t even noticed his arrival until he lightly kicked my foot, which startled me so much I almost fell over. Luckily, I was sitting down, but still.
He laughed. “Hi.”
I smiled at him. Goddamn, he looked good this morning . . . clear eyes, tousled hair, lips full and slightly red and chapped. He was wearing his other jacket, the one he looked best in but didn’t usually wear unless everything else was dirty. I felt like I hadn’t seen him in a month.
He sat down next to me. I grabbed him by his jacket collar and kissed him, hard.
Eventually, I had to pull away so I could breathe.
“Well, don’t stop now,” he said.
He wasn’t short of breath at all. Or, if he was, he wasn’t much. It amazes me that he can be a smoker and yet seem to have better lungs than I do.
I laughed.
He came close and gave me a quick kiss. But he stayed in my face. “Maybe I should spend the day out on house calls more often.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t.”
Labels: january brings few faces
