I was dancing around the room like a fool when you walked in. Gyrating my hips and moving my wrists back and forth limply like I’d seen others do. The music had ended long before you saw me, but I still kept it in my mind. It was some sort of repetitive hip-hop beat I’d heard on a car commercial. My feet jostled back and forth for position one in front of the other while I imagined the loud and distorted rhythm track.
I didn’t feel embarrassed at all, but I probably should have. You weren’t the first to be turned off by my dancing.
I’m guessing that’s how you felt at least. Since we haven’t talked again since August, that would be my assumption. I tried calling you a couple times at the end of the summer to no avail. A man answered and said you didn’t live there any longer, but I knew he was lying. Your lease wouldn’t have been up until October and I know you didn’t have a surplus of money to go around breaking leases.
When we first met and started dating you prided yourself on not signing leases. I thought it was an odd thing to pronounce, but in retrospect it may have been one of your finer qualities. I guess I found it ironic then that the lease is what hemmed you in and forced you to have that man answer the phone and lie to me. I can only imagine the conversation you had with him where you instructed him to answer the phone and say you no longer resided at Orange Gate apartments.
He had a pretty breathy voice. I won’t lie, I felt like getting to know him when I first heard him speaking to me. I knew why you’d left me and took up with that voice. It was convincing and fairly persuasive. He probably could’ve gotten you to do anything. I wanted to believe you weren’t there based solely on the conviction and gravitas in his voice. For that reason, I don’t really blame you.