Absently scratching my chest, I went inside and switched my laundry from the washer to the dryer. In the bedroom, I pulled on a pair of jeans that I found under my bed after sniffing them to see how clean they were. Then I checked the dryer and pulled a black T-shirt out that had seen better days, and tugged it over my head. It was still damp, but I figured with as thin as it was, it would be the driest.
After starting another load, my feet shuffled on the worn bedroom carpet as I went into the tiny en suite bathroom. I pulled my bleached dreads back and fastened them with a band I had on my wrist. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I stared at myself.
“You’re a dumb fucker. You know that? What the fuck were you thinking?”
Of course, mirror-me didn’t answer. I flipped him off. He could’ve at least said I wasn’t stupid.
Stomping back through the house, I avoided the spilled paint, grabbed my keys, slipped my phone in my pocket, and sat down to pull on mismatched socks that I’d found on top of the dryer, and my boots.
As I got to the door, I scooped up my cut from the raggedy coat rack and went outside. While I shrugged it on, I scanned the neighborhood. My neighbor was an old guy who liked to mow his lawn and do his snow blowing in shorts and cowboy boots. I liked the crazy fucker. He was sitting on his porch in a rocking chair, smoking a cigar. When he saw me come out, he stopped the rocker and waved.
“Saw you evicted your roommate,” he called out. Dude didn’t miss a thing either. Or maybe his wife saw and told him. Didn’t really matter, I guess.
“Yep” was all I gave him before I pulled on my helmet and buckled the chinstrap. My shades were hooked on the brake cable of my scoot. I settled on the seat and slipped them over my eyes. With a sigh, I pulled on my gloves, started the only real love in my life, stood her up, and lifted the kickstand. Without a backward glance, I pulled out of the driveway and headed toward the clubhouse.
I made a quick stop at Hy-Vee to grab some cinnamon rolls and cookies. They could travel safely in my saddlebags, and I knew Angel’s boy liked the M&M cookies from there.
When I got back on the road, I realized I actually felt a little lighter now that I was single again.
Fuck women—literally. I was convinced relationships were bullshit, and my brothers who’d found ol’ ladies were either anomalies or lucky. I’d be single and happy. A smile lifted the corners of my mouth.
I erased Yvette from my mind. Good riddance. I’d be happy with my life just the way it was.
What was that shit people said about famous last words?