She took me out of the car today, finally. The heat in this new place is unreal, I felt like she was trying to bake me by making me live in there.
She put me on this red couch as if I was part of the decor, then left me there. After she went outside, I got to take in my new surroundings. The couch was red, the carpet brown, the space around me empty.
I’d been living in that car since February, in a place where there was snow. I remember her getting into the car and hugging me as she cried; that was how we met. She never did give me a name though.
A few weeks ago she found me and hugged me again, then carried me out to her friends, who christened me Tito. It was nice to finally know who I was.
Finally I heard her return. She rushed into the kitchen and started cooking, then rushed around the house, trying to grab as many personal belongings a she could, as if to hide her very presence in this place. But I got to stay, as if I belonged. Thankful that she’s not embarrassed to be seen with me.
It wasn’t long before there was a knock at the door and more and more people started to arrive. They talked about tacos and music and someone picked me up. My new friend with the blonde hair! I think they call him Bobby. I think he loves me the most. He named me. He calls me Tito the Potito. It’s a name as cute as I am. They like to pass me around to hug me, because apparently my hugs are some kind of magic.
The set me down and made plates. Everyone had tacos except me, momentarily forgotten.
Eventually they had their fill and the music started. Fun music, everyone together. I was passed around like a joint that no one was smoking. I was overwhelmed, needing to hide myself.
I tucked myself away, into a ball, when someone yelled “Hot potito!” Suddenly I was flying through the air. They tossed me back and forth until they grew bored of this new game. I was happy to be included, but terrified that I was about to die. I wonder if this is how they treat all their new friends.
The music was good, the laughter loud, joy emanating from the room we all sat in. I could sense a real community, a new family forming. I wanted this to be my home. I think maybe it is now.
My friend, Jasper, got to be a part of the party too. The blonde one, Bobby, kept trying to make Jasper dance. Jasper’s not good at talking about his anxiety and was sure he was going to pass out the whole night. But he held it together. Even after they messed with his sweater. He knows it’s not made for him, but he’s had it too long to care.
Jasper is my family, the way all these strangers are the girl’s family now. I hope she feels home here too.