Letters from my third son - Letter Four

The Flat

Orders are being shouted out over glass breaking in a busy Italian restaurant. Erin sits across from me and tells me her story. At some point in the conversation I see a waiter and think to myself. How did he get to this point in his life? He’s clearly in his forties and the many lines on his face want to tell me the stories of how they got there. I sit and wonder what was his drug of choice. Did he ever kick it and if he did when was the last time he had to fight the demon. Was it over a woman, the lost job, or the simple yearning that he has carried all these years that just caught him at the right time. Erin poses a question to me but I was off in my world again. I say something silly then blame it on jetlag. My responses to all her questions are in this fashion and it starts to come off as charm.

A light stroll by the Beautiful Darling Harbor leads us getting into a more personal conversation. I soon realize I could take the turn here and set myself up for some sort of intimate encounter. I think to myself, I didn’t come across the globe to hook up with a girl from San Diego and if I did it would be with this girl? Sure she had a nice body but other things about her just didn’t fall into place for me. Now do I do it just for the story sake? At this point I figure I will just leave it be. I also like to look as if I don’t care about what she has to offer. She seems the type that likes to test a guy's patience- aka a cock tease. Our walk leads us back to my hostel. She informs me that she lives one building over. Then she tells me she has seven flat mates to a two-bedroom apartment. I have got to see how this works

The Door Swings open to the flat that is small but modern in look. It looks just like a hotel room. On one of the pleather blue couches sits Fabian, a 24-year-old French guy from Cannes. Fabian has a crew cut and a brow that makes him look almost wolfish. If he gains another 5 lb the wolfish look could end up looking piggish. Sitting next to him is a Korean girl named Sky. Sky could be the mascot for blind happiness. I say that because she doesn’t ever speak, only smiles, and runs around the flat handing out hi fives all day for no reason. I can see her doing this during the apocalypse. Just across from her is a French guy also named Fabian. This Fabian is the type that would come to the states and clean up. A bedroom door opens and two fools pop out. Brian, a 30-year–old dude from San Diego that happens to be Erin’s brother. Next to him is a dark guy name Mattose, from Brazil, that only talks threw his top front teeth. Oh, did I say talk? I meant yell, because a yell is the only volume he talks in. In the kitchen is a girl with dirty blonde hair and black thick-rimmed glasses From Sweden. I forget her name because she ducked out before I really got to meet her. Also in the kitchen is Reynaldo, making drinks for everyone. Reynaldo came from Brazil just like Mattose, but he is polar opposite from him. Erin asks me if I want a drink. I respond no but for some reason I have one in my hand before I even finish my response. I have wanted a drink for the past 2-3 weeks and it’s the one drink I wanted too. A Jack and Coke... light on the Coke. I hold it in my hand and think is this how day one in Sydney is gong to go? You bet your ass!!!!!!