Dedicated to Nettie Necrophilia, yet again, for this wonderful, corny title. And to you, Curt Jackson, you're my bitch now.
11:57, 11:58, 11:59, 12:00 A.M. I wished I could make time move faster. It was hard to believe that my train wouldn't come until 1:30 A.M. That meant I would have to spend another hour and a half in this train station. I grabbed an apple out of my bag. I bit it into it, making my hunger stop momentarily.
I stared out of the window. Was I truly leaving my beloved Los Angeles? I stared out to see Olvera Street. I could still hear the mariachi bands playing. Sometimes, I would go to Olvera Street just to hear the mariachi bands playing.
I could also see the faint lights of Chinatown. Their Chinese New Year's celebration was still going on. I could faintly hear the firecrackers and the happy laughter. It reminded me of the time my parents took me to see the Chinese New Year parade here when I was eight. Exactly five days before they died.
I was truly leaving Los Angeles. I was going to miss my grandpa, who had practically raised me my entire life. I was leaving Los Angeles all because of Darren Park. My ex-boyfriend.
When we were together, Darren had made me so happy. We had met in college where I'd been studying for an art degree. We began dating for about a year when we decided to begin living together. He made me feel good. Yet, he respected me and I respected him too. But when I'd graduated college, things began changing. One day, when I got home from my crappy job at Macy's, Darren-and his things- were gone.
I couldn't afford the payment of our $1,700 loft. Fortunately, I had found a $700 one bedroom. In Sacramento. The building was constructed in 1911, but I truly didn't care. I'd have to try to fix the apartment up as bed as I could.
I truly hated Darren. I was leaving my grandfather and my best friend, Misty, behind. I didn't know anyone in Sacramento. I was going to have to start my entire life all over again. Might as well change my name to 'Princess Buttercup.'
My cell phone began ringing. I took it out of my pocket. I checked the caller I.D. It was Misty.
"Elle Benson speaking," I said.
"Elle?" Misty's voice rang in my ears. It sounded like she had been crying all day. "It's me, Misty. Elle, I'm so sorry." If I had to tell you what I hated most about Misty, I would have to say it's the way she phrases things. She's always so unclear about things.
"About what, Misty?"
"Elle, it's my fault that Darren and you split up." I appreciated Misty for feeling sorry for me, but it wasn't her fault that my relationship ended up like cow turd.
"Look, Misty. I appreciate the sympathy, but it isn't your fault. Our relationship just wasn't meant to be. Don't feel bad for me, Misty."
"Elle! Please, just listen to me this once! Darren was cheating on you! With me!" I felt as if my heart had just been ripped out of my body. No, it wasn't true. It couldn't be. Misty was my best friend. We swore that we would never let a man come in between our friendship. She knew how much I had loved Darren.
"Misty, it's not April's Fool Day."
"Elle, I'm being serious." Then it hit me. All those nights that Darren had dressed up. He said he had to got to dinner with his work buddies those days. I never suspected that he was cheating on me. After all, when we had romantic nights, he would hang out in sweatpants.
I also remembered all those times Misty asked me to come shopping with her. We had spent ages in Victoria's Secret, searching for the perfect bra, panties, and stockings. I would have never expected her to cheat with my boyfriend. On romantic nights, I would wear an oversized t-shirt. Funny how people are one thing to you, and something completely different behind your back.
"Elle?" Misty's voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Don't EVER call me again, Misty." I hung up the phone and curled up on the armchair and began to cry.
"1:30 A.M. train to Sacramento, now boarding at platform 17!" the speakers screamed, waking me up. The nap felt good and I was temporarily free of sadness or worries. I got up and began walking down the dimly lit hallway that led to the platforms. I entered platform 17. I took a deep breath and walked through the train doors, ready to begin a new life.