Virgin Lips

4. What would I know about dates?

Sundays are mildly tolerable at the diner. There's less people to serve, because it's Sunday and they all prefer to go eat somewhere less depressing and dirty; Scott is in a good mood because he has his boys night on Saturdays, meaning poker and strippers; and, the weekend cook is at least nice – then again, it doesn't take much to be nicer than Greg. All that together makes Sundays at work good enough for my mood to be lifted the slightest. Not enough to be happy, but enough not to want to smash my head against the glass door of the diner every time I get to work.

As I neared Ben's door, I heard his voice. He was on the phone again. I wonder how come he moved here without his girlfriend, because, clearly, he can't stay more than a few hours without hearing from her.

I haven't talked to him since that night when he pretty much profiled me at the bus stop. It's rare that someone notices me enough to see behind the curtain. As a matter of fact, I don't think anyone ever has. You know that feeling you get when you reappear on the radar of humanity after having gone AWOL for years – that's what I felt when Ben mentioned my singing. I only sing when I'm sure no one can hear me, and since there are only two apartments on my floor, it's really easy. I just never considered someone could be listening and even make something of it.

"You have a really nice voice, by the way," Ben told me that night, while we walked home, "and you sing with such a passion that it's almost heartbreaking, given the songs' themes." Most of them are sad or at any rate talk about broken dreams and difficult lives. "It's not about the voice, it's about the story behind it. Like I said, photography teaches you to read people, and what I read when I look at you, or rather, listen to you sing, is broken dreams that you think are gone, but they're not. Someone like you, JoJo, is worth much more than a filthy diner."

It's not the first time I hear I have potential, my teachers and all told me the same, but coming from a complete stranger that has nothing to gain from it neither is compelled to give me pep talks (teachers are, due to professional bias, pretty much forced to), it sounds completely different. It's not some old lady that's known me my whole life, it's some random guy with whom I've barely spoken.

Beware, I'm not saying there is some sort of weird connection between us just because he appreciates my singing. I'm not about to go off on how he must be my soul mate and how am I gonna die if I don't end up spending the rest of my life with him. I'm just saying that, I don't get that often. Someone actually seeing me behind all the layers. If he understood so much just by listening to me sing, I wonder what would happen if we grew close. Not that I want or need to, just ... wondering, that's all.

Yawning, I unlocked the door, already hearing my kittens scratch it, eager to get dinner. Poor babies, I leave them alone most of the day. "Yes, yes, I know, you're hungry ..." I grumbled as I made my way to the kitchen, Reese and Shaw on tow, "you should feel lucky you have a home, so many strays starving and you complain about the quality of your tuna." I scoffed, reaching for the cabinet where I keep their food. Only 2 things I spend a lot on: my books, and the kitten's food. Cats are haughty, they want what they want, so it's either that very specific brand and that specific type of food, or hunger strike. Obviously, no faucet water, needs to be the cool store-bought one that's in the fridge.

Reese and Shaw barely gave me time to put food and water in their bowls that they jumped to it. I fell back against the wall with a heavy sigh, to check my phone. Predictably, there was a missed call from my mom, who, after all this time, still doesn't remember my work hours hence calls me when I can't answer. There were a couple of pics from Faith and Hope as well, just the twins enjoying themselves in Aspen. The last one was peculiar. It wasn't just the two blondies, there was a third one. Faith and Hope were hugging a guy that looked just a bit older than them. I didn't even need to read the text: blonde, early 30s, pretty hot, eyes as blue as theirs ... Nathan Hill, Faith and Hope's older brother.