Free The Eternal Intern (Contemporary Romantic Comedy) by Roman Koidl Page B

didn’t force me to have her on my mind. I chose so. I was glaring at the phone. Should I, shouldn’t I? Seconds felt like hours. I was trying to visualize the conversation we would have. Playing through the scenario, I always got stuck at the question why am I really calling her? The truth was I missed her. I hoped to start a new relationship with her. Now, that I’m back again, I believed that it could be different. After all, she didn’t leave me because she lacked the love for me. She left me because she was scared and overwhelmed with the situation. Suddenly, I felt a vibration in my pocket. Someone was calling me on my phone.
    Private Number .
    “Hello? ,” I answered anxiously.
    “Welcome back ,” a masculine voice answered.
    “John?”.
    “Who else did you expect, Pat,” he replied happily.
    “Let’s have some beers tonight. I want to hear all about the African ladies ,” he said excited.
    “Ahm, sure. Well, I just got in. Say 8 p.m.? ,” I suggested.
    “Sure. It’s only two in the afternoon right now. Rest and I’ll meet you later at Harvey’s ,” he said hanging up the phone shortly thereafter.
    As the evening got closer I was looking forward to meet John.
    He waved at me from the bar as I entered Harvey’s. The TV’s hanging from the ceiling were showing soccer matches in South America, Snooker competitions from England, Tennis matches from France and so on.
    “Hey stranger ,” John greeted me happily giving me a strong hug.
    “Another beer please ,” John said turning to the bar keeper.
    “So tell me. How was Africa? ,” his eyes sparkled.
    “It was fantastic. The people were so nice. The food was really good. I had…”.
    “…blablabla,” he interrupted me.
    “If I want African food I’ll go to an African restaurant ,” he explained impatiently.
    “Tell me about the ladies? How many did you do? ,” he rubbed his hands.
    “Seriously, is that all you are interested in? ,” I asked him being slightly disturbed about his question.
    “Sure! ,” he smiled taking a sip of his beer.
    “So, how many? ,” he continued asking poking my side with his elbow.
    I had to smile. I knew he didn’t mean it in a bad way. John has been my friend since I was a little kid. His family moved next door. I knew how to take him, as a constant horny guy.
    “Believe it or not I didn’t do anything,” I answered relaxed.
    “What? Nothing at all? You must be kidding me? ,” he answered in disbelief.
    “No, nothing. And I feel fine about it ,” I replied.
    “It’s her, right? You stupid asshole. Even thousands of miles away you still have a woman rule your life ,” John stood up from his bar stool reaching for his forehead.
    “Well… ,” I tried to explain.
    “…bloody Loretta. She called you when you were in Africa, right? ,” he pointed the finger at me.
    “Yes. Kind of ,” my voice started to break.
    “Seriously. You are so dumb. You were single, in a country where no one knows you, and you are young ,” he was walking up and down along the bar.
    “Sure she’s a nice girl. She is good looking. But she bloody left you and pleased herself. As you were crying in your pillow out of sadness because you missed her she was crying in her pillow out of joy because someone was doing her ,” he painted a very hurtful picture.
    “No, I don’t think so ,” I replied still with the vocal strength of a mouse.
    “God, right now at this moment I am ashamed to call you my friend ,” John sat down again.
    “Pat, I love you. Well, not the way the guys in San Francisco love each other but I love you as a friend. You are nearly like a brother to me. So please drop the shit with Loretta and start to live ,” he advised me. 
    “It’s easier said than done ,” I replied.
    “No it’s not. You just have to figure out what you want for your life. That’s it ,” he explained gesticulating with his hands.
    “Well, let’s drop that topic. You’re old enough to know what to do. What are