August 5, 2005

And now everyone is doing the whole vampire clam-up-and-not-tell-me-anything thing. Screw you all. If Isabel and Gustavo aren’t worried, then I’m not going to worry about you, either.

August 17, 2005

I’ve been here for two weeks now. Where the hell are you?

Ever since you came to my apartment (Do you know you always smell like smoke to me, by the way? I thought something was burning when I came home that night.) I’ve been looking forward to seeing you.

Is this you being pissed at me for leaving Houston?

You never once came to visit me in L.A. Not once. Except to break into my apartment and leave me the sonnets (which I brought by the way) and take one of my favorite pictures, of course. Would it have killed you to hang around for a while?

Haha. I just realized that was unintentionally funny.

August 20, 2005

Took a ride today.

You still aren’t here.

Think I might go rock-climbing tomorrow-with the Reverte’s oldest son. The really handsome one.

Why aren’t you here?

I’ve been sleeping in your room, and I discovered that without any light to wake me up in the morning, I sleep a really long time. I’m very well rested.

Is that what this was? Just a getaway for Beatrice so she could relax? Not saying I don’t appreciate it, but…

No, actually, I don’t appreciate it. I love this place, but I came here to see you, not ride horses, and hike, and eat Señora Reverte’s really excellent cooking.

So, where the hell are you?

I have a return ticket for the thirty-first. I’m not hanging out until you get here. If you even plan on getting here.

August 25, 2005

Why the hell am I even writing in this stupid journal? It was just lying open on the kitchen table when I got here. Did you know this whole place smells like you? It does. I kind of hate that at this point.