Victor was on the bed, lying on his back staring at God knows what in the ceiling. For the millionth time, I told the retard off. “I don’t want to fucking talk, right? I’m not your agony aunt. Go find yourself a nice shrink. Or better yet, do a Leslie Cheung and throw in the towel.”
As it turned out, the nitwit is in a half-coma. I left him and got out of the room. If he just asks me nicely, I can do a lot of things for him–except listen to him whine like a loser about stuff. I just can’t stand whiners. Whiners are a lot like suicidals: they’re lazy and they just can’t seem to make up their own damn minds.
It was already past midnight so there was nowhere much to go. I went inside a bar and ordered a beer. I browsed Victor’s phone and chose a random number in the junk’s phone book. In about thirty minutes, I had company.
Let’s call the bloke Cullum because his name starts with the same letter and he looks a bit like the jazz singer Victor likes so much. But mainly because he looks like a nice little hobbit. I mean, hey, not bad, but all Cullum needs is hairy feet and he could give Elijah Wood a run for his money.
“You look different,” he told me in perfect call center English.
“When was the last time we met again?”
“About a year ago. I was actually surprised you texted me.” He looked at me like he’s really confused. “I thought you said you weren’t interested. You did not even keep in touch after you left the company.”
“Well, I guess I changed my mind, right?”
Cullum pursed his lips and examined his nails. It was dark in the bar and he was examining his goddamn fucking nails. No one looks at his goddamn fucking nails when I’m around. I suddenly wanted to hit his face.
“You see, I’m a better guy now. You want to know how much better?”
“You look worse, if you ask me. Which is nice, since you used to look so, uh, ‘proper.'” He drew quoation marks in the air with his fingers.
“Masyado kang maraming alam, para kang lalake,” I told him and he laughed at my sudden switch to Filipino. He playfully punched me in the ribs and rested his arm on my shoulders. I let it stay there.
Hours later, when Victor would be done whining against the pillows, he would find out about Cullum and he would be stinking mad at me. But at the time, everything’s cool and Cullum’s arm felt nice and I forgave him for looking at his nails in front of me.