SCOUT
“Why don’tyou start applying to schools now? You know they have all sorts of grants and scholarships, especially for Latin Americans.” Luis asked me one morning in late January, as he got ready for work. I had brought out my art school jug to count and roll coins on the living room floor.
“I know, but you have to be like super smart and write essays and stuff. I don’t even think I’ll use this for an art school.” I waved a roll of pennies in the air. “Maybe I’ll just go on a vacation and look at the art there.” That would be the more realistic option, but even that was a pipe dream.
“There are some beautiful places all around the world with stunning art.” Luis nodded. “Perhaps you can ask Desiderio what places he would go to. Take a trip together.” He knew I was missing my boyfriend terribly, and I knew that vacation was the furthest thing from our future. We’d have to see each other to take a trip together.
Every night after I got home, he called me and spoke to me for an hour, even though it was almost always two or three in the morning. With him quitting the movie theater and getting Randy to take over all of his other illegal dealings, he didn’t have to stick to a schedule anymore.
“You wouldn’t know it, but most of my new job is done at night,” he joked one night on a call.
“What if our phone lines are tapped? You can’t say stuff like that.”
“They aren’t, and if they were, I’d take care of it,” Desi said so with such confidence, such finality, I felt comfortable. It was an odd feeling, knowing what he was doing now. He had assured me that the people were all criminals.
“I just get paid to stop them from continuing is all. I don’t think too much into it. Do I feel bad about getting a known bad guy off the streets? No. Do I feel bad that I’m not making an honest living and am someone you can be proud of? Yes.”
“Desi, I don’t care if it’s honest or not. I love you no matter what your job is.” I stared down at the promise ring he gave me at Christmas. The symbol of his love that I had with me always, even when he couldn’t be there. If he loved me for who I was, I could love him back just the same.
“Yeah, but what will you tell your friends when they ask what I do, huh?”
“You’re a traveling salesman,” I repeated what he had told me to say. “You sell magazines door to door.”
“Even I don’t believe that lie.”
We only saw each other four times in January. Every Tuesday, he had made a point to come into the diner and have dinner, but it was just that. Sometimes he didn’t even have dessert. The last time I saw him in person after he ate, I took a small break to see him off.
“Maybe we can go out for a movie or something?” I hated that I was pleading for attention, but not being able to touch and hold and kiss him every day sucked. Desi was addicting.
“I’m almost done getting Randy set up,” he promised. “And then I’ll take you out for a special Valentine’s Day date.”
“Valentine’s?” My jaw dropped. That was two weeks away. “How much stuff do you still have to do with Randy?”
“Well, he has all the products,” he said, with a hint of bitterness. “He had to pay me, which took time, and now I’m setting him up with all my contacts, which I had many.”
“I heard.”
“I’m working on it, I promise.” The front doors to the diner opened and Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” burst into the cold winter air.
“Scout! We need you in here!” Shannon, another waitress, called.
“Coming!” I called back. I waited for the loud music to stop, signaling she had gone back inside, but the song kept blaring. “I hate this song,” I muttered, starting away from Desi.
“You hate Journey?”
I spun around and threw up my hands.
“It’s too fucking hopeful. Why would I want to hear it when you’re leaving again? I stopped believing a long time ago.” I stormed back into the diner, not bothering with a goodbye, and went about my shift. For the next few weeks, every time Journey was played through the speakers, I requested we change the song. I stopped answering Desi’s late-night calls. I wanted to hear his voice, so I kept the voice machine on, but I couldn’t keep hearing him lie to me. It was never ‘soon’. It hurt my heart way too much.
Over the messages, Desi promised every day that he’d see me on Valentine’s. “I won’t miss it. I’m setting it as my deadline. All my loose ends will be tied up by then and I can start living a normal life. Well, semi-normal.”
I didn’t believe him. Each night I tried to harden my heart toward him. I couldn’t keep waiting for him to come around. With that in mind, I agreed to work on February 14th.
With a few more extra shifts, I might be able to afford a car of my own. I could stop walking and taking the bus places.
I went about my night, smiling and putting on my best face for the happy couples, despite wanting to cry in the back room. I didn’t hate Desi for not making it to my house earlier. I hated myself for falling for him in the first place. I was smarter than that. I stared at the ring and thought about what it meant. He promised he’d see me on Valentine's. Desi didn’t break his promises.
After my shift, I offered to stay late, so as to not go home and be disappointed. As we shut the neon light off, indicating we were closed, Journey came over the loudspeakers.
