'Because of you...'

It's all over now...
Yesterday was the worse day of my brief life in that fucking cafe. Yesterday was his last day working there. He's gone for good.
I couldn't even look him in the eye.
I went for my break and had his leaving card in front of me, trying to figure out what to write. I couldn't think of anything because I didn't want to say anything to him in that situation, you know, of him leaving London. Everybody that has ever gone I've always written something funny or positive and always a letter, almost a novel. But with him was different. Couldn't say much more than a 'good luck and enjoy' or something like that.
I went to the toilet to brush my teeth. Suddenly I burst into tears uncontrollably. I didn't know what to do because I was supposed to have started to work ten minutes before but I just couldn't get out of the bathroom looking like that. I called Adri.
For one fucking hour I worked looking at the floor so that nobody could see the tears in my eyes. But I think everybody noticed somehow.
When we gave him the card, there was a couple of speeches and then a handshake... I'd worked with him for ten months, everyday, going out occasionally, always talking about everything, flerting all the time, and then a handshake...
I wanted to get out of there at that exact moment. I did.
I went to the front and prayed for customers to come and keep me busy. That wasn't the case, of course. Then I decided to fill the fridge with water. I got the boxes and kept stocking it up, but then I listen to one 'Fe...' He was leaving the shop. He stood next to me, hugged me in my waist and said: 'It was very nice meeting and working with you...' I didn't look at him. Then he said: 'See you in Poland' and I said: 'Well, whenever you come to London, bring me cigarettes...' That was it, that's what I was able to speak to him. I had a couple of glimpes but once again my eyes were full of tears. And then he was gone. 'Bye', he said, no answer from me.
Now it's gonna be hard listening to the songs we used to in the kitchen on Sundays making baguettes and wraps and laughing and telling customers to go to hell in our languages.
Once again I have to forget, time heals but I'm sick and tired of it.

No cookie for me

Nearly two months have passed. I can't really say that things are good. Actually, things are far from being good. I gave up school, couldn't manage to go and keep the hours I'm working. No-show Elina has left the cafe and he's going back home in two week's time. I knew this day would come but didn't really think about my reaction. I think I'm still in denial.

I'm moving out of the house. We (me, Gabriel, Felipe and Dyana) tried to find a place to live here, a three-bedroom house, but the only place that "pleased" everybody - the house was a dump, to be honest, but the location was great and that's what it's all about in London - was all of a sudden taken away from us. Definitely no cookie for us. The landlord didn't approve of two of us not having a job. Understandable. What amazed me was the fact that the house was crap. At the end of the day everybody's gone their separate ways and I'm looking for something for myself, but it's damn hard, I must say. I'm feeling so uncomfortable where I am right now that if it was phisically possible I'd pack all my shit and make a park bench my home, right this moment. I just try to stay as much time as possible out of the house. Last Friday we had a little gathering at the cafe for Elina, but everything was interrupted by Silvio himself, who was passing by and saw the camera flashes going off. I guess he got pissed because 1. Elina didn't invite him to the gathering and 2. there was alcohol going on. Ok, it was ONE bottle of vodka with fruit juice, but still. We decided to go to the kareoke (me, Asia, Justy, Paul and Grzegorz). It was full, but is was ok. Afterwards, since the kurwa place closes at 11pm, we moved to The Moose (the former Camel)! The Camel was always the last resource, the desperate attempt to try and make the night and the money worthwhile.
It was even more expensive than the last club (a $5 bottle of beer is the cheapest alcoholic thing to have in that place). I asked for a caipirinha and gave a $10 bill, my change was maybe three coins, but I don't remember how much it was and, honestly, I don't wanna find out either.
Music was shit, the latest techno-trash was playing and everybody was seemingly having fun. As I'd been drinking since 3pm that afternoon by midnight I was pretty loaded and decided that the music wouldn't matter. I danced like it would be my last day on the face of the earth. After an hour or so, he turned up. I ignored, kept on dancing. I danced until 2:30pm non-stop and I think I would have kept the pace if I hadn't had to work the next day.
I'm completely lost in time, for a moment right I couldn't remember what day of the week today was, even thought I'd worked for ten and a half hours - the Sunday shift. But from next week we'll be open until 9pm on Thursday, Friday and Saturday, with me starting to work at 11:30am... I'm beat, but trying to save as much money as I can to whatever happens next. I've gotta confess that spending all this money is kinda making me nervous and as a result I've put on some major weight. Can't stop eating. I might haven't gotten the cookie, but for sure I'm going to town with all the ciabattas, lasagnas, jacket potatoes, McDonald's, Ben & Jerry's and wheat beer.