Women: 29
The phone rang the next morning. Lydia had gone back to her place. It was Bobby, the kid who lived in the next block and worked in the porno bookstore. “Mindy’s down here. She wants you to come and talk to her.”
“All right.”
I walked over with 3 bottles of beer. Mindy was dressed in high heels and a black see-through outfit from Frederick’s. It resembled
a doll’s dress and you could see her black panties. There was no brassiere. Valerie wasn’t around. I sat down and twisted the beer caps off, passed the bottles.
“Are you going back to Lydia, Hank?” Mindy asked.
“Sorry, yes. I’m back.”
“That was rotten, what happened. I thought you and Lydia were finished?”
“I thought we were. Those things are very strange.”
“All my clothes are down at your place. I’ll have to come get them.”
“Of course.”
“Are you sure she’s gone?”
“Yes.”
“She acts like a bull, that woman, she acts like a dyke.”
“I don’t think she is.”
Mindy got up to go to the bathroom. Bobby looked at me. “I fucked her,” he said. “Don’t blame her. She had no other place to go.”
“I don’t blame her.”
“Valerie took her to Frederick’s to cheer her up. Got her a new outfit.”
Mindy came out of the bathroom. She’d been crying.
“Mindy,” I said, “I’ve got to go.”
“I’ll be down later for my clothes.”
I got up and walked out the door. Mindy followed me out there. “Hold me,” she said. I held her. She was crying.
“You’re never going to forget me . . . never!”
I walked back to my place thinking, I wonder if Bobby fucked Mindy? Bobby and Valerie were into lots of strange new things. I didn’t care for their lack of common feeling. It was the way they did everything without any show of emotion. The same way another person might yawn or boil a potato.
Altre opere di Charles Bukowski...
