He was quiet. He seemed a little slow at first, and I really thought he might be stupid, which would’ve been a shame, given all the other parts of him being so good to be around. But then I saw, after a while, he wasn’t stupid. No, not stupid. Just dumbed down by circumstance, you know, just drilled down by circumstance, until he was just left with being still and quiet and grateful for whatever he got.
Eugene. I fucked his brains out for him. He was grateful; grateful and quiet.
You have to believe yourself way before other people believe you, is what some old guy on the boat he worked on had told Eugene. Not believe in you, just believe you, is what Eugene told me when we were laying there after, and I got him talking a little. I just loved hearing that shit. Like hearing that shit is gonna turn around a long time of being nothing. But I smiled anyway, to make him think I believed it, too.
We were in his bare white bedroom in an apartment. In Houma, Louisiana. And we were hiding out, hidden in a cool, white place, the sun out there pushing away with its wet heat. I swear you could feel the heat pressing, even in the cool of the room, feel it weighing everything down heavy outside. Just waiting. Waiting and hoping the pizza would get there before the heat became too oppressive. We wanted our appetites. Needed them: we would be eating a meat-lover's supreme. In August. In Louisiana.
The doorbell. You got there just in time, Wayne, riding in on a wave of sweltering fever. I fucked your brains out too. Before I got tired of all that chatter, black olives this and extra cheese that and your precious $12.95. You shoulda been quiet, Wayne. Quiet and grateful, like Eugene.
I believe you, Eugene. In all your quietness, gratefulness, and dumb-downedness, I believe you.
Opening: Anonymous.....Continuation: takoda