Free August and Then Some by David Prete Page B

at?”
    â€œI’m just standing here.”
    â€œMe too.” So we both do. Uncomfortably and for a while.
    â€œNow what are you gonna do?” I ask.
    â€œI’m not done standing here.”
    â€œIt’s Wednesday night and you got nothing to do?”
    â€œYou think I got nothing to do just because I got no man around?”
    â€œI didn’t mean it like that, I just figured your plans have changed and you might not have made new ones yet.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo don’t you got anything better to do?” she asks.
    â€œI don’t really like to make plans. They fuck me up.”
    â€œWhat’s that mean?”
    â€œNothing. Long story.”
    We both just stand here for a little while brooding.
    â€œWanna go for a walk?” I finally ask.
    She looks at me like I got problems. “A walk? Where?”
    â€œI don’t know. Around?”
    â€œAround where?”
    â€œAround New York.”
    â€œAre you wacked?” she says like she’s asking me what time it is.
    â€œNo,” I explain. Then I get skeptical of my answer. “Why?”
    â€œYou feel like you’re a little off kinda.”
    â€œLook, I’m having a really bad year and your day doesn’t seem to be any better, so I’m going to get a beer and take a walk, you’re welcome to come or not come.”
    She looks at me like this makes no sense and therefore complete sense. “Ah-ight. I’ma go for a walk. Damn this guy is trippin.”
    Â 
    We’ve made our way into a vintage clothes shop on Avenue A. Stephanie liked a shirt in the window. I’m holding a beer in a bag and the saleswoman welcomed us in with a smile, but has been scoping me from behind the counter ever since.
    â€œSee now this can be all me.” Stephanie checks herself out in a three-way mirror wearing a white billowy shirt.
    â€œThen buy it.”
    â€œNaw, I don’t just buy stuff.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œIf I want it, I leave it.” She turns to get a side view. “I leave it for like two days then I come back just to make sure we still good together.”
    â€œWho’s still good?”
    â€œMe and the shirt. Yo, pay attention.” She turns to face me. “Now, what you think?”
    I crank up a little excitement and say, “I like it,” then take a sip of my beer.
    â€œI hate that word. Like. I like it ,” she says in a sarcastic high-pitched voice. And turns back to the mirror. “Don’t you hate that word?”
    â€œNot particularly.”
    â€œI mean I like food, but that’s cause I got no choice but to eat.If I get to pick something I’ma love it. Why I wanna waste my time on shit I only like? I don’t gots a lot of clothes, but I love everything I wear.”
    â€œI guess I love pizza. But not with broccoli. Broccoli on pizza is a yuppie sacrilege.”
    â€œYo, shut up, yo and tell me what you think of the shirt already.”
    â€œWhy do you care what I think?”
    â€œCause your night sucks like mine.”
    â€œThat’s a good enough reason. Turn around.” I take my time. “If we’re talking about picking things cause we love them then get rid of that thing.”
    â€œWhy,” she says, all surprised and offended.
    â€œBecause it ain’t for you. It looks good in some spots, you know like it’s saying you look good right here …” I hold my hand in front of her boobs.
    â€œBut?” she says, leaning back.
    â€œBut at your waist it kind of puffs out and makes you look bigger than you are. And … let me see something.” I lift the tag that hangs off the sleeve and read a handwritten $55 . “It’s costing you way too much to not be in love with every part of you. Hang that shit back up.”
    â€œYo, don’t you know shit? You not supposed to tell a girl she look fat.”
    â€œI didn’t say you