Rendezvous
23 September 06 : 06.27 PM
You sometimes forget that people have emotions.
Then something happens to someone like Jordi. Jordi, the one who annoyed the shit out of you the first time you met him so that impression stayed. Jordi, the one who prank-called you (and that once, when he was alone, so you turn smug because you know he just wanted to call you). Jordi, the one who took Christian's phone to tell you shit, drunk, "I love your vagina".
Justin called me last night, shivery and weak. It's Jordi. He died. He died in a bike accident.
"You are fucking kidding me, Justin," I said, but you knew it couldn't be because of how Justin sounded. He tells me that he wished everyone saw Jordi the way he really is, and I tell him, I did, a little each time you talked about him. I was no longer annoyed at him, no matter how much I said it.
The last time I met him, in July, he told me I looked different each time he saw me (but stop changing, this is good).
"He's a good kid. You gotta be with him alone to see that side of him. He's my best friend. I could bond with him more than I could with anyone else."
"I love you, Vicki. I just needed you to know that you mean a lot to me."
For a while you forgot that people like Justin had emotions too, beneath that exterior of vulgar carelessness and promiscuity. "Kid, I'm going back to England. I need to get the hell out of this place." Then I told him he mattered to me, despite never showing it, don't leave.
And he replied, thanks. I love you, kid. Don't ever change.