Prescriptions – 2

“Hop on”, she nodded, her hands preoccupied with the gas and ignition.

She never made real eye contact with me. Neither then nor before. Not sure if it was because I was a bother. Me tagging along not knowing what to do. Or if it was some form of dignified resilience, staying strong and positive during times of adversity, and one look at me would break that will.

I got on the back.

“Hold on tight.”

My left hand was on her shoulder. My right held my sandwich. I kept it on my lap. I avoided getting too close. There really wasn’t any need. It didn’t go too fast and the bumps weren’t as bad as I imagined. We sputtered through the streets and out of the small town.

Before the world went comatose, Helen worked at the hospital. The California Hospital in downtown Los Angeles. She was a pharmacist there. Her life was good. Eventually she bought a home up in Burbank. That’s when I came into the picture. she was looking for a roommate and I was looking for a place to stay. And being that we knew each other since college, it was a done deal. I became her roommate.

Things were different now.

There was no home. No place to go to. The only thing was this little Vespa. Like her home, I rent out the back seat. No matter where I go I return to it. I knew she’ll be there.

Prescriptions – 1

I brushed off the dust on the crankcase with my hand. The metal underneath felt nice. Solid. Smooth. I ran the tips of my fingers across the beveled edges where the bolts attached itself to the frame. They were a bit grimy, but you can still tell the metal was new. In fact, the whole Vespa was new. I put the back of my hand against the crankcase. The place where the chain meets the motor. It was still warm. She must have been back about an hour ago.

I stood and looked around.

The alley was empty. Nothing but gray. The buildings around me were three stories high and made of brick. Gray. The pebble stone street forked in front of me. Gray. The sky above this cramped Y-intersection was hazy. And gray. The only things that weren’t dark or gray were the little potted plants on the window sills. They were brown and green. Not sure what was growing. But the backdrop of curtains. They were gray. Though more bluish gray.

I can’t remember too well. All in my mind was the light blue Vespa and the girl that rode it. The girl that left it here. She was my roommate.

Helen must have gone to get some food. Though where I don’t know.

Two roads up ahead and one behind. The obvious being, not the one I came from. But still I was stuck here in the middle of this desolate looking alley with only two routes. A decision. A blatant subconscious sign. Some sort of symbolism for my life.

I simply stared at the triangular building that split the road in two. My mind wandered. It wondered about the people that must have lived there. People with odd shaped furniture. Nothing must have been rectangular. It would be a nightmare to furnish. And with the type of people that go through here. Is this really a place people would seek to live? I had to wonder. But then again, I was here. My roommate was here. We weren’t bad people. We were passing by. A little bit lost, yet not forsaken. Just waiting. I was waiting.

“I got a sandwich,” Helen called out. “Here’s your half.”

She handed me the triangular half of the ham and cheese. I worried about the cheese for a sec. A ride on this bumpy road wouldn’t do nice things to my stomach.

She had come down the road I wasn’t going to take.

“Thanks,” I said, taking a bite and watching her mount the Vespa.