Chapter 8: Girlfriend

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Tuesday. January 15th.

A new girl came to my job. Her name Moeko Kaye Abe. She was a unique mixture of Black and Asian, her family has a story of their own. A sweet and quiet girl, she told me she liked my eyes when we first met.
She worked in Front of House since she was only seventeen. Since she turned eighteen in a month, my boss, Kevin, had me train Moeko when it was slow—something I didn’t want to do. I wasn’t a trainer and felt if they were going to have me train people, they should up my pay. Of course, I said nothing at the time, feeling no one else on staff could give her proper training.

Moeko was a good listener and caught on quick to my instructions. She followed me around like a lost puppy, standing right next to me while I took and delivered orders. I trained her for three days and honestly she wasn’t that bad. We related on a lot of things, like enjoying rock music, watching horror movies, and hating high school. Neither of us went to prom, which interested me.

“Why didn’t you go to prom?” I asked her on the fourth day of her working. We stood behind the station early in the morning. There was a couple, but they didn’t sit in neither of our section.

Moeko looked tired, but she managed to put on some winged eyeliner. “I didn’t have anyone to go with.”

“I can’t believe no one would go to prom with you.”

“I guess I’m not that pretty.” Her eyes scan the restaurant.

I lower my head to her; she was much shorter than me. “You are pretty, Moeko. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

Moeko smiles. “You know, you can call me ‘Moe’ if you want. My family calls me that.”

“Am I your family?” I cock my brow, smiling halfway.

“No, but you’re the coolest person I’ve met here.” She shrugs. “It’s the least I can do.”

“I’m an asshole.” I chuckle.

“You are, but a nice one. Like a pornstar asshole.” She smirks.

I stare at her. “You should have my number.”

Her smile grows. “Alright.” A family sits in Moeko’s section. “I’ll give it to you in a minute.”

“No problem.” I watch her go to the table. I wanted to admit to her that I was gay, but something held me back. I was interested in her, finding her mixture beautiful and her personality stoic. She handles lunch rush really well, something even I had to get used to. A kind girl, but there was a bitch in her. I wanted to see her crack.

After work, Moeko gave me her number. I replied to her once I got home. Our conversation was simple, we talked about people we hated at work. I was right, she was a bitch. She’d call people out of their name and talk shit behind their backs. That was something I liked about her; I could vent freely my own nasty views without judgement. We hated the same people, so it was easy to talk to her. She also found me funny, I thought she was intriguing.

Her birthday was on the tenth of February, she came in with a little tiara and a smile on her face. She was excited to finally serve by herself. By then, she was loved by the staff, some of the girls got her gifts while others wished her a great happy birthday. I bought her pink headphones since she was always asking to use mine’s. It was then Moeko asked me if I wanted to go to a concert with her on Valentine’s Day.

The concert was performed by her favorite artist, Chloe Maurer. Her voice was angelic, I admit it almost made me cry, especially with her heavy lyrics. She talks a lot about ending her own life. She was Moeko’s favorite artist and was only nineteen at the time. Her friend, Sariyah, was going to go with her, but her babysitter quit on her last minute, leaving her with no one to take care of her daughter, Jamie. I agree, kinda feeling honored she asked.

Moeko’s car was having problems, so we took mine despite the cold. I told her to bundle up, she came in her white mink coat and red scarf. The concert was at the Mason Temple in Detroit, an hour drive. Parking was easy, there was an open spot right around the corner. We stood in the cold for an hour and a half before we went inside. They took Moeko’s pepper spray at the door. It wasn’t a big deal for her, but I told her I’d get her another one.

The hall was small, illuminated with red lights. We were early, so we sat and waited for another hour. More people showed up than Moeko anticipated. People poured in from all exits. Our seats were right by the stage, I could touch the stage. Chloe performed only songs from her new album, ‘RUNT’. Her songs were mostly slow and sad. Some were energetic, the lights and people dance along with the beat. Even a few police officers came and watched for a moment. Moeko stood close to me the entire time; I didn’t go away. Near the end, Moeko suggests we go because traffic leaving would be terrible. I agreed and we left soon as Chloe used canons to blow confetti towards the audience.

In the car, just before we left, Moeko asked me a strange question. “Have you ever experienced loss before?”

“Yeah, I have.” I stare at her. “Why?”

She’s not looking in my direction. “Can I tell you something? It’s really personal, but I trust you.”

“Sure. I won’t tell anyone.”

Moeko looks at me, then back to the dashboard. “Chloe’s song, ‘Lost Friends’ reminds me of when I was twelve. All the lyrics go in tune with how I was feeling.” She plays with her hands. “I was pregnant at the time.”

“You were?” My eyes widen. “You never said you had kids.”

“I don’t.” She looks at me, finally remaining on my eyes.

It takes a second for it to click in my head. “Oh...” It’s hard to keep the stare. “You lost the baby?”

“I didn’t lose it.” She weakly smiles. “I had an abortion.”

“Wow.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

She lightly chuckles. “I didn’t want to have the surgery. I wanted to at least see the baby before I gave it away. But my parents couldn’t bare seeing me pregnant, especially since I was raped by a grown man.” Her arms fold. “Sorry, I’m just dropping bombs on you.”

“It’s okay. I understand how you feel.”

“You do?”

“I had a procedure done that I didn’t want. I no longer can have kids because if it. I was thirteen when my uterus was removed. I can’t see myself having a baby, but I at least want the choice. It’s my body, that was a part of me.”