The Other One (Story #1)

"What happened to.. What was her name? Georgia? Gina?"
"Jordan, mom. Her name was Jordan. We broke up, remember. She lied to me. She was a stripper."
"Well, I was a stripper once."
"Mom!"
"That's the truth honey. Med schools were never cheap. And that's how I met your father, I'm sure I told you the story, it was a Sunday night and I was just entering the stage--"
"YES. Mom, yes, I know. You told me. A hundred and one times now. Please. Just. Gosh."
"Okay, well don't you get all smart with me. I taught you to be respectful, haven't I?"
"Yes, mom, you did."
"Okay. Well, I just wanted to see if you were doing all right. And your father asks if you need any money."
I look around the empty flat. Besides the floor mattress, my old Mac, the empty kitchen cupboards, a bag of clean-but-maybe-not-so-clean clothes and all sizes of delivery boxes laying around; there wasn't much stuff in the flat. I liked to call it a simplistic way of living. The truth was that I still couldn't find a job and I was broke. Then again, who could find a proper job these days?
"No, mom, no need. Tell him I say hi... I think I'll better go now."
"Well, alright. Bye bye Peternut, kiss kiss!"
"Bye, mom."
I had been living on my own, like this, for twelve years now. I lived in dozens of different flats all over the world by now, and was probably still on the move, because I hadn't paid last months rent. Straight out of high school I moved out my parent's house and never returned home. I guess I had a more severe case of seeking-freedom then most people did. It wasn't because I had a bad childhood or anything; I had fairly nice parents: a crazy but loving mother and a very formal father, a kind of father who would wear dark grey suits to be casual. Life was never too hard on me, but never seemed to please me either. I had always been this lost, incomplete child, and I spent my whole life searching for something.
When you're a teenager, this all sounds very inspirational and dramatic. But when you're a 32 year-old like me it is kind of embarrassing.
Embarrassement, however, is nothing new to me; and my life is.. Well, it's the same life I always had and I learned in time to be content.