One night long ago, I was up late texting my neighbor. She was telling me her boyfriend was really busy traveling, fulfilling his duties in the cartel. According to her, she appreciated the fact that he was providing her and her daughter with nice things. She frequently received big bouquets of flowers, expensive gifts, he even offered to move her to Mexico and retire her at her tender age of 22. What she didn’t appreciate was that he never took time to show her affection, go on adventures with her, make her laugh, or spend quality time with her. I listened to her gripes as I frisked my kitchen for alcohol and snacks. I found a bottle of Barefoot Moscato, and a previously opened family size bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and asked her to bring a blanket. She came outside with a blue Dodgers fleece blanket and I told her let’s take a drive to Seal Beach, drink some wine, watch the waves and play some music. I never found out who’s wine that was, who bought those chips, or who that blanket belongs to, but it all felt like it was mine.
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