It'll Be Okay

corner store bathroom.

"I guess so," I look away trying to hide the smile on my face, "according to the doctor at least. I actually stopped taking my meds." I confess, I don't know why it's so easy telling him these things.

"Damn. Not working for you or what?" he looks down at his hands, probably still reminiscing about his mother in the hospital. I know it might've not been the best idea to admit that I stopped taking my medication, due to the fact that his mother literally committed suicide, maybe for the same reason, not taking anything to help her. Maybe she was like me when it came to the idea of not wanting to feel crazy.

"I didn't take them long enough to find out," I stare at him & he stares back, "I never got your name?"

"I know," he laughs, "I was almost hoping you would text me."

I give him a confused stare, "how if I don't even know your number?"

There's a pause, then he rubs his hands over his thighs again like he's nervous or something, the glisten in his one blue eye sparkles in this dim gas station bathroom, "As psychotic as this sounds, I put my number in your phone while you were passed out in the hospital room."

My eye grow wide at the thought. This entire time I had been thinking about him for almost two weeks & his phone number was in my fucking phone the entire time. It obviously never crossed my mind to check my phone but I can't believe he actually did that. How the hell was I ever supposed to know, nobody just checks their contacts.

"I found out you didn't have a passcode on your phone, which is actually kinda crazy you should really put some security on that thing," if I did you would have never put your number in my phone, I thought.

I take my phone out, knowing his last name I scroll all the way down to the s, & he wasn't lying there it was, Jesse Santoro, "Jesse," I smile at him.

"And you are Stella Atzi," he smiles back at me. I almost melt as he's smiling showing his damn near perfect teeth.

"StellaLuna, Stella for short I guess."

"Never heard that name before, I like it," I can sense the small Italian accent, a bit of New Yorker as I keep talking to him, this has been the longest conversation we've had since meeting back at the pier. We continue staring at each other without losing each others gaze, then suddenly a knock at the door startles us both. 

"Is anyone in there?" the continue to bang on the door, "come on man, I really gotta go. I hope you're not dead in there."

Jesse stands before me, reaching out his hand to help me up, I take it & I stand. The embarrassment I already feel before walking out the door. What is the guy gonna think about us walking out together, especially since Jessie is still taking ahold of my hand.

He finally reaches to open the door & the middle aged man standing, holding his crotch about to piss himself, stops bouncing & give us the most repelling look. I already know what he's thinking; men are sick minded creatures & if he only knew. I hate that about myself, the need to explain myself after every situation but I would rather die right now than talk to this man about why we were in the bathroom so long. 

I guess that's what I've liked about Jesse, he doesn't seem to ever question why I have all these frequent episodes when I see him. People tend to really pry during situations like this, almost as if they want to know the root of the episode, even when I have no idea myself; or it could be the complete opposite, they will ask then try to compare my situation with one of theirs & try to make it seem like their life is far much worse than mine. Not that it's a competition but humanity always tries to make it out that way. Everyone fending for themselves & they feel joy out of the pity of others.