Sister

“Have you seen my sister?”
I slowly opened my eyes. Blinked. The sun was bright. I had fallen asleep in
it’s early warmth, before it’s full summer force made it uncomfortable. Around
me the park had become much more active. Children and dogs. A horrible
combination when you’re in the grips of a hang over.
“Have you seen my sister?” The voice again. Gentle. Curious. I looked up
sun browned legs to a short denim skirt. Up to bare mid drift with a pierced belly
button. I camped there for a moment, got my bearings, enjoyed the view. Moved
up to round, firm breasts held tight in a white T-shirt. Again, paused. Examined
the outline of a nipple, the lace bra under the T-shirt. I paused too long.
“Hey.” The voice. “Up here. Have you seen my sister?”
I rolled onto my side. Pushed myself into a sitting position. Steadied myself.
Head throbbed. Mouth tasted like the inside of a dog’s anus. Stomach lurched. I
belched and snapped my mouth shut quickly. I half expected to see my duodenum
rush out my nose.
“You drunk?” The voice.
“Other side of that.” I said. I made the final leg of the ascent and held fast to
her face. I’m a drunk. I ‘m not a poet. I won’t even pretend to do justice to her
1
perfection with my shaking hands and stolen Bic pen. Suffice to say, God was
having a damn good day when he put this woman together. I stared at her face,
suddenly feeling shame for my condition in front of her.
“Are you all right?” She asked. I had no idea what to say. All right?
Compared to her I was dead and partially decomposed.
“Yeah.” I said. “I’m just a little …”
“Hung over.” She said. She smiled.
It hurt me.
She waited until she was sure I had myself together and she asked again.
“Have you seen my sister?”
I had moved into town about six months before this moment. I knew seven
people; Karen and Melanie, the waitresses at “The Rails End, the diner where I
was a short order cook. Matt, the door man at Kitty O’Shea’s, the pub where I
spent my free time. Sean, the bar tender at the same pub. Mr. and Mrs. Kimble,
the slovenly German couple that owned the tenement where I had a room with a
sink, a camping size refrigerator and a shared bathroom. And, I knew Gail. She
was the whore turned actress who lived in the room across the hall from mine. In
a few desperate times we had gotten drunk and comfort fucked each other for a
few days. Then, we spent the next week avoiding each other, not wanting to admit
we were that pathetic. My world knew no one of the caliber of this fawn eyed
angel.
“I don’t know your sister.” I said.
2
“I didn’t ask if you knew her.” She informed me. “I asked if you had seen
her.” It didn’t make sense to me, but, it seemed logical to her. Who was I to
question.
“Oh. “ I said. “I … I don’t think I’ve seen her.”
“Okay.” She said and turned to leave. I couldn’t allow that. I needed a few
more seconds of her. One more for the road as it were. I called to her.
“Hey.” She stopped and turned. “ What … um … how would I know your
sister?” I asked. She stepped back toward me, folded her arms just below her
breasts. She looked into my eyes.
“She is a year younger than me but, she’s beautiful.”
It was the ‘but’ that stuck in my head. “But … she is beautiful. This girl
obviously lived in a house without mirrors.
“More beautiful than you?” I took the chance. She laughed.
“Silly.” She said. “I’m attractive, sure, but, my sister … she’s beautiful.
You’d know her if you’d seen her.” She turned and headed down the hill toward
the middle of the park. I watched her. Everyone watched her. Men, women,
children … everyone watched her walk slowly through the park.
“I’m attractive.” I played it out again in my head. “But she’s beautiful.”
There’s no way in hell I could survive that meeting. No way in hell.
“I need a Denver and a Western, Rye toast on both, burn the potatoes.”
Melanie rang the bell, slid the ticket across the steel counter top. The morning
rush was in it’s last phase. Just a few folks. The ones with no where to rush to. By
3
ten, the place would be pretty much empty and I could start my prep for the
lunch rush. That started about eleven thirty. My hands moved without thought,
breaking eggs, mixing in chopped onions, ham, moving a pile of potatoes to the
center of the grille. I liked the job because my body could work and my head
always had things to concentrate on. Eggs, burgers, when to drop fries into oil.
That kind of thing. I liked to keep my head engaged, I didn’t like to disengage my
head too much. I liked to keep it in the present moment as much as possible. That
way I always knew what it was supposed to think about. My head was full of
things that I just didn’t want to think about. Things like the future and lack of
success. Things like my parents and their poorly masked shame when I came
asking for money. Things like … Arla. When I thought of Arla, I thought of love.
Something that was supposed to change me, heal me, help me mend my evil
ways. And it did. Briefly. Then it disappeared and behind it was all the shit that I
had thought had gone away. But, it hadn’t. It had just taken a break. Took time to
gather reinforcements. When Arla left, taking love with her, it was like facing
Meade’s army at Gettysburg. I had no choice but to retreat. Which I did. Blindly.
Quickly.
“Two eggs, over medium, bacon crisp, white toast.” Karen this time. Bell
rings, ticket slides across the counter. Hand goes up, grabs ticket, Eggs break,
bacon sizzles. Should be the last order for a while. Time for a cigarette and the
paper.
4
I slide the last plate over the counter and check out the dinning room. One
guy. I step out of the kitchen and pour myself a cup of coffee. End of the AM rush
the coffee is thick and strong. I catch Karen’s eye.
“I’m gonna have a smoke.” She nods. It’s been five months. We have a
routine. I like routines. The less talk the better. I sit down on the steps out front
and light up a Camel. A pearl gray morning.
The good thing about emotional upheaval is it makes you examine the
needs your life. Makes you focus on what you actually need to survive at the
moment. A place to sleep. Money for cigarettes. Money for food. Money to stay
drunk on your days off. The less money you spend on food, the more money you
have to spend on getting drunk. One, halfway decent meal a day and whatever
you can pick off the plates before you hand them to the dishwasher. Another good
thing about emotional destruction, you’ve stopped thinking about the future. Oh
those rapturous plans of love, life, kids. No more. Just the day by day, the drink to
drink, hoping it ends soon.
I sipped my coffee and placed it on the step at my feet. When I looked up,
she was there, flowered sun dress, sandals, white ribbon holding her hair up.
“Hi.” She said. “Remember me?” Dumb question.
“You ever find your sister?” I asked. She laughed.
“Yes,” She said. “She was on the other side of the park, in that grove of
trees, making out with some skater kid. She’s a bit of a nympho.”
5
“Really.” I said. A beautiful nymphomaniac. My mind raced; Dear
Penthouse Forum, I never thought it would happen to me, a derelict short order
cook …
“Not really.” She told me. “Not clinical, but, she gets into trouble if you don’t
keep an eye on her.”
“I see.” I said. Took a drag, exhaled and looked her body over from under
the cover of smoke.
“You on a break?” She asked. “Or can you make me some breakfast?” I took
another drag, snubbed it out and tossed the contents of my cup into the grass. I
stood up.
“What do you want?” I didn’t even hesitate. I didn’t even give it a thought. I
just acted. I just moved. Damn it … I’m weak.
“What’s your specialty?” She asked.
“Lamb in mint sauce.” I said. “But, we’re out of Lamb and the mint isn’t
fresh, so I would recommend a nice omelet instead.” She laughed. It bubbled out
of her. We went inside. “Sit anywhere.” I told her.
“I want to sit where I can watch you cook.” She said. I placed her on the last
stool at the end of the counter and stepped toward the kitchen.
“Anything you don’t eat?” I asked. She shook her head. “Okay. Sit tight.” I
went into the kitchen and made her an omelet with mushrooms, bacon, broccoli
and cheese. Potatoes crisp and rye toast. I put the plate down in front of her. She
unfolded a napkin and put it in her lap.
6
“This looks great.” She sliced a piece of the omelet off with her fork and put
it in her mouth. A line of melted cheese extended from the plate to her lower lip.
I reached out and brushed it away. She giggled.
“How is it?” I asked.
‘Perfect.” She said. I nodded and went back into the kitchen to prep for
lunch. I kept an eye on her. When my prep was done I stepped out of the kitchen.
Her plate was empty, clean and she was sipping the last of her coffee.
“That was an amazing omelet.” She told me. “I have to come here more
often.”
“I make a grilled cheese that’s illegal in seven states.” I told her. She
smiled.
It hurt me.
“I’ll have to experience that sometime.” She said. “But, right now, I have to
find my sister.”
“I haven’t seen her.” I said.
“I know.” She said. “Thanks. That really was an amazing breakfast. You’re
a good cook.” Then, she was out the door.
“She a friend of yours?” Melanie was eyeing me.
“No.” I said. “She was just looking for her sister.”
“Who’s her sister?” She asked.
“Her sister is the most beautiful woman in the world.” I said.
7
“This is from the lovely lass at the end of the bar.” Sean said. He placed a
shot of Jameson’s 1780 in front of me. “She said to tell you, thanks for breakfast.”
He gave me a staccato toothed smile. Mick pervert, I thought. I looked down the
bar. She was leaning against it, looking my way. Red, short sleeve T-shirt, tight
jeans, bare ankles, white sneakers. I raised the shot to her. She smiled.
It hurt me.
I tossed the shot back and thumped the glass on the bar. The liquor
warmed all the way down.
“Jesus, she’s beautiful.” Sean whispered. “Who is she?”
“I’m the only one in this town who actually appreciates this man’s culinary
prowess.” She caught us both off guard. She had traversed the room in a quiet
instant.
“You mean you’ve actually eaten this man’s cooking and lived?” Sean said.
“Well, then, you are an extraordinary young woman.” She laughed. Sean placed a
shot glass in front of her and one for himself. He then filled the three glasses with
1780. “ A toast to survival.” He said. We drank.
“That’s nice.” She said, shaking off the effects of the shot. Not a drinker.
“And who might you be, lass?” Sean asked. He always pumped the Irish up
when he was flirting with a woman.
“I’m Abbey.” She said. “And who might you be?”
“I might be the luckiest man in the world.” He said. “But, that’s only if
you’ll marry me and make an honest man of me.” She laughed. Old line Seany, old
line. But, it usually got the laugh. He took in her laugh and smiled at me. “Well, I
8
can see I’m not going to be lucky tonight so, I’ll settle for being me.” He took her
hand and gave a slight bow. “I’m Sean Michael O’Shea, proprietor of this fine
establishment.” He gently brushed her hand with his lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet
you, Ms. Abbey” She accepted the gesture and gave a slight bow to her head. She’s
a damn princess I thought. Sean let her hand go and winked at me. He moved
down the bar to deal with the rest of the small crowd.
“Thanks for the drink.” I said.
“Thanks for the fabulous breakfast.” She answered. We sat for a moment in
silence. I sipped my beer. She watched me.
“So…” I couldn’t take the silence any longer. It’s not that silence bothers
me, no, trust me, I much prefer silence to the sound of human voices in most
occasions. But, with her, I needed to hear her speak. I needed to know what was
going on in her head.
“So?” She replied. She had an ease about her that made me unnaturally
nervous.
“What brings you here tonight?” I asked.
“You.” She said. I swear to Christ my heart skipped a beat. Not in a poetic,
romance novel sort of way, my fucking heart actually skipped a beat. I caught my
breath.
“Me?” She saw it. She knew. She laughed.
“Actually,” She said, “I was looking for my sister. She comes in here all the
time.”
“Really?” I said. “So do I. Maybe I’ve seen her. What does she look like?”
9
“I told you.” She said. “She’s a year younger than me, but, she is beautiful.
You’d remember her if you saw her.”
“I guess so.” I said. I sipped, she looked around the bar.
“Well, doesn’t look like she’s here tonight.” She finally said. “I guess I better
take off.”
“Hope you find her.” I said.
“I will.” She was sure. “I always do.” I nodded. “So, maybe I’ll see you for
breakfast again tomorrow. How are you with pancakes?”
“My pancakes are peerless.” I told her. She laughed.
“Perhaps I’ll come by for some peerless pancakes then. I like the sound of
that.” She said.
“I’ll be there.” I told her.
“Okay.” She said.” Have a good night.” Then she turned and headed out of
the bar. Everyone watched her. Men, women … Sean. They all watched her walk
out the door into the night. Sean came down the bar to me with another pint of
New Castle.
“Friend of yours?” He asked.
“Not really.” I said. It was honest. She wasn’t my friend. I had just learned
her name tonight. “She’s just someone who appreciates good cooking.” I told him.
He chuckled and moved down the bar. I settled in to drink.
It was close to three in the morning when I leaned my head against the
wooden door of my room. My cell. I fumbled with my keys. I placed a hand on the
door to steady myself. I felt Gail’s breasts as she pressed her body against my
10
back. She moved a hand around me and clumsily stroked my chest. I heard the
tinkle of ice against the side of a glass. She leaned her head against me.
“You’re up late.” She said. Slight slur. We were probably on the same level.
She had been sitting at home, drinking alone. At least I was out, that was
something to be proud of. I turned slowly to face her. She was wearing a man’s
large button down shirt, top three buttons undone. I could see a black lace bra
and the top of her pale white tits. She had great tits. She put her arms around my
neck and came up on her toes. We were face to face. “How’s my lover tonight?”
“Drunk.” I said. She laughed slightly, the laugh evolved into a loose wet
cough. I turned my head.
“I’m drunk too, lover.”
“Really?” I said. “You carry yourself so well.” Again the laugh and the
cough.
“So.” She said. “Wanna come over for a little nightcap?” She put a slight
pause between little and night cap. She smiled. I thought about it for a moment.
That was a first. Normally when I was this drunk I just went for it.
“No, Gail.” I said. “I’m pretty drunk.”
“That never stopped you before.” Laugh, cough. She had me there. Usually
it was when I was a little too sober that I refused her bed.
“Not tonight, Gail I…” She put her free hand against the wall and looked
deeply into my face. She took a long slow drink.
“You’ve got a girl friend.” She finally said. “You’ve got yourself a girl
friend.”
11
“What?” I said. “You’re crazy.” I turned and tried to unlock the door. She
moved her body between me and the door. She looked at me again.
“Okay.” She began “If you don’t have a girlfriend, you’ve got your eye on
someone.” She pushed me away from my door and into the middle of the hall.
“You got your eye on someone and you don’t want to hurt her feelings by fucking
me.”
“That’s bullshit, Gail.” I said. “You said it yourself, I don’t give a shit about
anyone’s feelings.” She stepped back, took a drink, looked at the floor.
“No, lover.” She said. “I said you don’t give a shit about my feelings.” We
stood, a foot apart, both swaying a little. “My feelings.” She said again, a little
more quietly this time. She waited. It was a game. I knew the game. I played the
game, from both sides. I knew my cue. I knew exactly what I was supposed to say.
“Gail.” I began slowly. “You know I care about how you feel.” She looked up,
smiled, stepped closer.
“You mean that lover?” I waited. I dearly didn’t want to play. I didn’t want
to say my next line but…
“Of course I mean it.” I said.
“And you don’t have a girlfriend?” She asked, stepping closer. She popped
another button open, ran her hand down the inside of her shirt opening it up,
exposing her tits. A practiced, drunken seduction. She backed me into her door
and it flew open. I stumbled back and tripped. I fell and sprawled out onto her
couch. She stepped in and closed the door behind her.
12
“Oh, baby.” She whispered. “Are you okay?” She was on her knees beside
me then. She placed her glass on the edge of the coffee table, it fell to the floor.
She laughed, coughed. “Don’t move, honey.” She said. “Let me check and see if
you’re injured.” She had unbuckled my belt and was pulling down my zipper,
leaning her head down to my crotch. I sat back, tried to shut my mind off. This
should be over in a minute I thought. I felt her wet mouth on me. I grabbed her
head, pulled her up. I kissed her, hard, deep. Then, I was up, zipping my pants.
“I’m sorry, Gail.” I said. “Not tonight.” She stood to protest. I kissed her
again. Only defense. She smiled.
“Well,” She said. “When you put it like that, I guess I can take a rain check.”
She unbuttoned her shirt the rest of the way and opened it wide to give me the
full show. “I’ll be waiting for you, lover.”
“Great.” I said. I stumbled to the door and out into the hall. She followed
me, stayed in her door way, hands high on the door jam. I looked her over once.
Thought about it. Turned and unlocked my door. I stumbled inside and fell on the
bed. Sleep was two feet behind me.
I have the ability to lie to myself so well that I actually believe the lies. Like
they are coming from the mouth of someone else, not me. At the onset of the
lunch rush I lied to myself, saying I wasn’t even the least bit disappointed that
Abbey, now she had a name, hadn’t stopped by. I moved mindlessly through
cheeseburgers and tuna on rye and blue plate specials. I ladled soup, dropped
baskets of fries into hot fat,all the time keeping a quick eye on the door. At one
13
thirty, my shift done, I balled up my apron and sat at the counter with a cup of
coffee. I kept my back to the door but turned each time the bell tinkled.
“You expecting company?” Karen asked. I shook my head. She stayed,
looking me over. “That girl from yesterday, you and she involved?” I finished my
coffee and stood up.
“What girl?” I asked. She laughed out loud.
Why was I afraid to admit I was waiting for her? Why was I lying to myself?
The reasons were not obvious. I am no Humbert Humbert. I had been on the
planet just four years before Abbey burst on to the scene. There would be nothing
illegal or immoral if she and I were to get together. That wasn’t it. It had nothing
to do with my financial state. I mentioned that I felt shame being in her presence
but that was quickly dispelled when she bought me a shot. I could tell that she
wasn’t a shallow women. Money and station didn’t seem to matter to her. We
were intellectually compatible. Neither one of us being a striking genius or an
astounding idiot. Why the lies? Who was the boundless ass hole that said, “It’s
better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all.” A man like that you
hope to meet in the after life so you can punch him in the face a few times. Let
him recover and then, punch him again. My fear was that we would get together.
The lies stemmed from the possibility that I would and could easily fall in love
with her. Christ, I was halfway there and the distance was closing quickly. At the
risk of sounding like an easy listening, AM radio station, I never, ever wanted to
experience love again. Love does not last. Arla showed me that. Like a surgeon
with a degree from a Mexican Med school, Arla had removed my heart and
14
shoved a catheter, with an endless stream of bile pouring through it up, my ass. I
had grown used to that and it gave me comfort. That’s all I wanted now, comfort.
Not love, not magic, no bells and whistles, just, comfort. Not Abbey. So, I lied. I
lied with all of my being and prayed that I would believe myself.
“I’m sorry I missed breakfast.” She was there when I stepped outside. She
was there, by the door. She was there in a black T-shirt, denim shorts and
sneakers. Little white ankle socks. Hands in her back pockets. Sun glasses and a
baseball cap. She smiled.
It hurt me.
She was there.
“Were you supposed to be here for breakfast?” I asked, poorly casual. “I
didn’t see your name on the reservation list.” I stayed my distance, finished my
cigarette and looked up the road with purpose.
“Are you mad?” She asked. I stepped down and cut or distance to a foot and
a half. Mad? Yes, I’m mad. I’m completely insane. “I forgot, I had to drive my
sister to the airport.”
“Where’d she go?”
“She spends her summers back east. She works at an aquarium, does
research and stuff. It’s all part of her major. She’s going t be a marine biologist.”
“So, looks like I’ll never get to meet the beautiful sister.” I said.
“It’s a good thing.” She said.
“And why is that?” I asked.
15
“Because, you’d fall in love with her and then where would I be?” She held
my eyes for minute and then looked down. She kicked at the dirt.
“Probably standing beside her as her maid of honor.” I said. She looked up.
She was stung. Her eyes turned dark and hurt. I winced. “Kidding.” I said. “I’m
never getting married. I’m a card carrying member of the he-man Women Haters
Club.”
“Is Alfalfa still president of that club?” she asked, lightening up a bit.
“For now.” I said. “But, I’m sure I can take him in the next election.” We
were silent for a second. Where would I be? I needed to go. I needed to get away
from her, get to the bar and blot this out with as much liquor as my body could
handle. I needed to …
“So, what are you doing right now?” she asked.
“Nothing.” I said. “Beyond taking a shower, I have no plans.” Then we were
in her car heading toward my place. What was I doing? What was I thinking?
“Where do you live?” She asked.
“Grove and Pearl.” I answered.
“The German tenement?” She asked, slightly surprised.
“Jawol, Frauline. I live in a room in the German tenement?” I said,
“Disappointed?”
“Not at all.” She said. “It’s sounds romantic.” Living hand to mouth,
bedding down in squalor and piss stains is always romantic when it’s across the
table or across the street or on the screen. Never when it’s in your pocket.
16
“Oh yes.” I said. “I live nestled between the pages of a Harlequin romance.”
We drove in silence.
She sat on my bed and looked about my room. I grabbed my toilet kit and
headed to the door.
“You bask in the romance.” I told her. “I’m going to grab a shower before
the rest of the floor decides it needs to bathe. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be right here.” She said.
The bathroom is no bigger than a small walk in closet. Herr Kimble has
spared all expense. The shower stall is concrete with an exposed concrete floor
and a drain cover that never stays in one place. On the wall is a metal sign, rusted
and stained that warns occupants not to leave their personal effects in the
bathroom. THEY WILL BE CONFISCATED. I imagine the Kimble’s have a huge
storehouse of soap, shampoo, feminine hygiene products and several pairs of my
underwear. Having hot water is a crap shoot. If someone on the floor uses their
sink, you’re out of luck. I turned on the water and stepped into the stall, closing
the moldy shower curtain behind me.
“Oh, how romantic.” I think out loud. I start to lather my body. My mood is
good. I am singing to myself. Suddenly, the toilet flushes and the water turns
glacial cold.
“Jesus Christ!” I scream. “Who the hell is out there?”
“Sorry, lover.” Gail moans. She pulls the curtain aside. I am aware of my
nakedness. I cover my lower regions best I can. I’m shivering in a stream of cold
water. “Who’s your little house guest?” She asks.
17
“Gail, I’m using the bathroom right now. I’ll be done in a minute.” She looks
me over.
“You’re getting fat.” She decides. “You’re drinking too much. Maybe sweetie
will help you with that nasty habit.”
“Gail…” I’m losing my patience. The hot water makes a slow, shy
reappearance.
“I’m going.” She says. “But, lover, I want you to take a look at this ‘cause it’s
the last time you’re ever going to see it.” She opens her robe and exposes her
naked body to me. “Kiss it good bye.” She says. I turn my back on her and pat my
bare ass.
“You too, babe.” I say. She pulls the curtain closed. I laugh. She flushes the
toilet again. “You Bitch.” I yell. She cackles and coughs and is gone.
“You shaved.” Abbey says when I walk through the door. “You look so clean
cut.” I run my hand over my smooth face. I had a good six days growth going. I
had contemplated a beard. Actually, I had just been too lazy to shave. “A woman
named Gail came by. I told her you were in the shower.”
“She found me.” I said.
“Who is she?”
“She’s the RA.” I said. “I’m not supposed to have girls in my room. I could
lose my scholarship.”
“You’re very silly.” Abbey informs me. At that moment my life was filtered
through a prism and on the wall I was divided like the spectrum. Seven separate
scenarios played on the wall like an old film. In the first six I said to Abbey,
18
“You’re beautiful”, then I knelt and took her face in my hands and pulled her
close. Nose to nose, I looked in her eyes and then kissed her. In the final scenario I
was standing on the Rialto bridge in Venice, Italy looking at Arla, hearing her say
I love you. Critics watching the seven scenarios dismissed the first six as
romantic dreck. The seventh was lauded as pure art and it was destined to run
for years.
“Is Gail your girlfriend?”
Black out.
“No.” I said “She’s just … she’s someone …”
“None of my business.” She said. “I just hope I didn’t cause any trouble.”
“No trouble.” I said.
The day was spent in a typical lazy summer manner. We sat at an
outdoor cafe and by five o’clock we were both sublimely buzzed. At some point,
between the second and third pitcher, one of her slim, tanned legs took up
residence across my lap. As I would reach across the table with my right hand, to
fetch the pitcher or snub a cigarette, I would allow my left hand to brush her
thigh or rest for a moment on her knee. I was playing a game of flesh roulette
with myself. I would never win.
How far would you go for love? What would you do to win a place in a
woman’s heart? Think about it. Picture it in your head. Remember some of the
stupid moments, the desperate nights, the wasted hours, the drunken stupors,
the promises, the disappointments, the jealousy. How far would you go for love?
19
Now, let me ask you this; How far would you go never to feel that again? It’s not
as easy as you would think. Aside from being monastic, there isn’t much chance
of avoiding the perils of human contact. People often say, love comes when you’re
not looking for it. That seems like a good thing when you want love to come, but,
when you don’t, it is an unwelcome guest that sometimes calls for drastic
measures to evict. I needed to evict this, quickly. I could tell her that I was afraid.
I could explain my last relationship and let her know that my heart was not in
great shape, that I was wary. But, she would say it would be different with her.
She would tell me she wasn’t like Arla and that she would never break my heart.
I would believe her. Why not? She would mean it, at the time. At the time Arla
meant it. At the time, she told me she would never leave me, never hurt me.
Never. It’s sad when you find out that ‘never’ really is a finite term and that
’always’ is offered for a limited time only.
“Goodnight.” Abbey said. We were standing at the door to the German
Tenement. She had walked me to my door. “This was a great day.”
“Yes, it was.” I said. We stood looking at each other. She reached out and
took my right hand in hers and gave it a little squeeze. “I … I need to get some
sleep.” I said at last. “I work early and a good omelet waits for no man.”
“Okay.” She said. She was waiting for something. I knew. I started to turn to
go and she held me back by the hand. I turned back and she kissed my cheek. “I
really like you.” She told me.
“I like you too.” I said. “You’re a good kid.” Damn, that was stupid.
20
“I see.” She said and dropped my hand. “I’m a good kid.” She turned to
leave.
“Wait.” I stopped her. What was I doing? “Don’t take that the wrong way.”
“All right.” She said. “How should I take that?”
“Not … the wrong way.” I said. She shook her head and then she smiled.
It hurt me.
“Someone did a number on you, didn’t they?” She asked.
“More than a number.” I said. “An entire concert.” She laughed and stepped
close. She took both my hands and looked me in the eyes.
“I’m not her.” She said. “I would never hurt you.”
“Of course not.” I said. Avoiding her eyes. She put her arms around me and
hugged me. Her hair smelled like the ocean and her body fit me like an old
familiar shirt. My arms encompassed her on their own free will and we held each
other for a while. She pushed her face into my neck and whispered to me.
“We can take this as slow as you want.” She assured me. “I’m in no hurry. I
have a feeling you’re worth the wait.” She held me for another moment and then
she stepped away. She looked back once as she walked to her car, she paused and
smiled. It hurt me. I closed my eyes and wished for help.
Gail was playing with the hair on my chest when I opened my eyes again.
We were in her bed, candles around us on the floor and the dresser. I was stone
cold sober.
“This was quite a surprise.” She said. “I thought that you were mad at me
for the other day.”
21
“No.” I said. “Not mad.”
“I’m glad.” She kissed my mouth. I didn’t respond. “Tired, baby?” She
asked.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m very tired.” I got up and dressed slowly.
“You can stay.” She told me.
“No.” I said. “I have to work early. Don’t want to trouble you.” I was dressed
now and headed for the door.
“That’s sweet.” She said. “I’ll see you later, right?” I was out in the hall,
door closed behind me. I felt through my pockets and realized I had left my
cigarettes in Gail’s room. Now seemed like a good time to quit that habit. I went
into my room and dropped onto the bed. I traced the cracks on the ceiling until
they led me off to sleep.
“You look like shit.” Karen said.
“If that’s a proposal, I accept.” I said. I felt like shit. Sleep was shallow and
restless the night before.
“Your girl friend keeping you up late?” She asked. I liked Karen because
she did her job without fuss and kept her nose out of my personal life. She was
crossing that line now. I stared at her and she got the hint. “Sorry.” She said and
handed me a ticket. “French toast and sausage, please.” I went to work. Proving
Einstein’s theory, the morning rush, normally lasting about two hours, lasted
seven days. My muscles ached and my head was fuzzy. I botched three orders. It
was a strange hang over.
22
“Hey.” I looked out through the order window. It was Karen. “No kidding,
are you all right?” I assured her I was fine, just didn’t sleep well. The crowd in the
dining area began to thin. I started on the lunch prep. Melanie rang the bell.
“Hey,” She said. “Girl out here just ordered some peerless pancakes, said
you’d understand.” She slid the ticket across the counter. I read it. Peerless
pancakes. I was stuck. I made her a stack of strawberry, banana cakes and
carried the plate out into the dining area. She was sitting in the last booth in the
row along the wall, in back, near the emergency exit. Karen gave me a look as I
stepped from behind the counter and headed toward her booth.
“Are you going for a smoke?” She asked me. I paused in front of her.
“I have no idea.” I told her, honestly. She smiled, I moved on. Abbey
watched me walk to her. I tried to avoid her eyes. Finally I was at her table.
“Hand made and hand delivered.” She said.
“You’re our one millionth customer, so the delivery is a special treat.” I put
the plate down. “There’s usually a song and dance but, the stripper has the day
off.”
“Now that’s disappointing.” She said.
“It really is.” I told her “He does some fascinating things with the syrup
dispenser.”
“This smells great, thank you.” She put her napkin in her lap and began to
eat. I was uncomfortable and it was magnified ten fold being next to her amazing
calm. I watched her eat in silence. After two bites she stopped.
“No joke.” She said. “These are the best pancakes I have ever had.”
23
“Thanks.” I got up. “I have to …” I pointed toward the kitchen.
“Okay.” She said. “I’m going to savor these so, I’ll be here when you’re
done.”
“Oh … good.” I said and went back into the kitchen. I prepped some more
and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Marty was looking at me. He is the
small oriental man that has washed dishes here, I believe, since the appearance
of the dish. He was watching me. We had never said more than ten words to each
other. Once, he asked me for a cigarette. A simple “cigarette?” with a slight
upward inflection. Another time, when he had slipped on some water he placed
his hand on the hot grill to stop his fall. He had looked at me and said “Worry not.
It not hurt.” He was either a mystic or a drunk. The older I get the dimmer the
line between those two entities becomes. After a moment I turned to face him. He
repeated our last great bit of discourse.
“Cigarette?” He asked and pointed toward the back door. I nodded. We
stepped out back, sat on a couple of empty milk crates and lit up. We smoked in
silence for a moment and then, in a thoughtful, paced tone he spoke to me.
“The Ssu-ma- Fa states” He began. “When men have their minds set on
victory, all they see is the enemy. When men have minds filled with fear, all they
see is the fear.” Then he was silent.
Why is it that none of the great philosophers were ever simple? Simple and
clear. “If a man steals your wife, stab him in the heart.” Advice like that I can get
behind. But this, I was lost.
24
“Marty.” I said. “That’s damned profound but, what does it mean? To me.
What does it mean to me?”
“The girl.” He said and smiled. “You see her as body of fear. You see in her
all your past defeat. You spend so much time seeing defeat, you no longer see the
girl.”
“Do I have to snatch a pebble from your hand?” I asked.
“No.” he said “But, you must give me a second cigarette.”
I gave him another cigarette.
“Thank you.” He nodded “You are general of your army. You must expand
you Ch’i. You must see only victory and act.”
“The chairman teach you this philosophy?” I asked. He laughed a large
genuine laugh. It caught me off guard.
“No.” he said. “My father tell me this when I first decide to find a wife.”
“Sounds like harsh military advice.” I said.
“In love and war….” He said.
“…All’s fair.” I finished the sentence.
“You see, universal.” He made an expansive gesture with his arms. “Man
knows the fight and, man knows the love. Both …” he paused and linked his
fingers. “Both are intertwined.” He finished his smoke and dropped the butt on
the ground at his feet. He stood and slowly ground it into dust. Then, looking at
me with a faint smile he gave a slight bow and went back into the kitchen. I heard
water run and the dished clink together. I sat, thinking about what he said,
finishing my smoke. Suddenly, he was beside me again.
25
“Well, teacher.” I said “what do I have to do now?”
“Well, student” He replied “Now … very important, you must make the
cheeseburger.” He handed me an order slip and laughed at his little joke. Back to
the kitchen.
The clouds had moved in and the air smelled distantly of an impending
summer rain. Abbey was waiting for me when I stepped out the door. She was
sitting, very still, on the hood of her car. She was in solid colors and with the gray
pre-rain light all around her she looked like a Hopper painting. “The potential
energy of a heart break” would be my title. She looked my way and smiled. It hurt
me. I stayed where I was and lit a cigarette, keeping a museum’s distance from
the masterpiece. I didn’t want to excite the guards.
“Hey stranger.” She said. “Need a lift?”
“I could use one.” I said.
“Okay.” She said. “You look great in those shoes. Did that give you a lift?”
She laughed at her silly joke and slapped her knee in mock hilarity.
“You ought to be on the stage.” I told her. ‘There’s one leaving in ten
minutes.” She booed me and I took a bow. I stepped within the cordoned off area
and stood between her legs. I put my hands on her hips. Her eyes flashed. She
leaned slightly toward me. I kissed her. The kiss lasted from now ‘til then and
when it was finally broken, she still had her eyes closed. She wrapped her arms
around me, tightened her legs around mine and placed her head on my shoulder.
26
“There’s a fair that comes through here at the end of the summer.” She
said. “Has been ever since I was a little girl.” She sat back and studied my face
with her fingers. “There’s a guy with a booth, he sells these greasy French fries
that you drench with malt vinegar and salt. I look forward to them every year
and every year, they seem to taste better than the last.”
“So, you’re likening the kiss to a bitter, salty potato.” I said. She punched
my arm.
“No, silly.” She said. “Don’t ruin this. I’m saying that the anticipation and
the expectations were met. Were exceeded.”
“I done good?” I asked like some idiot, jungle child. She sighed, her features
softened, her lids dipped to half.
“You done real good.” She said “So good.”
Then, we flash forward sixty years and Abbey and I are watching our
grandchild, Mike, graduate from Yale law school and all is right with the world.
But, the world doesn’t flash forward. Even if it did, I would most likely be in a
trailer park having sex with my land lady who has tits that hang so low they
could be slippers, just to cover the rent. No forward flash. We stayed where we
were. Time locked.
“Where did you go?” Abbey’s face came quickly into focus and the rain
started to come down. She gave a slight scream, pushed me away and slid off the
car. “Quick get in.” She said as she fumbled with the door. I grabbed her hands
and pulled her to me. She pushed her body into mine as close as she could. The
rain came and I held her. I looked to the sky and smiled. This was a moment.
27
Abbey sat on bed wearing the bottoms of a pair of my pajamas and one of
my T-shirts. What is it about a woman wearing your clothes that is so wonderful?
She was drying her rained soaked hair with a towel. I was sitting at my makeshift
kitchen table, watching her. She had changed in the room. I had gone into the
bathroom to remove my wet clothes. She thought that was sweet. She finished
and hung the towel on the back of a chair. She took my hands and led me to the
bed. She sat.
“I can’t” I said.
“You can lay down with me. You can let me fold into you and take a nap.
Can’t you?’ She asked on the brink of being hurt.
“I … I can do that.” We both lay on the bed. She was wrapped around me.
The rain was strong outside and the air in my room was slightly cold. She
shivered and tried to get closer. We were quiet. I listened to her breathing. When
it became a constant rhythm I knew she was on the edge of sleep. I waited a few
more minutes and then, I spoke.
“Her name was Arla.” I began. “and, I loved her more than anyone I had
ever met in my life.” She slid a hand up my chest and touched my cheek.
“Okay.” She said. “I’m listening”. She listened and I talked. I told her
everything that I had ever been afraid to tell anyone. Not just that I was hurt and
sad, but how much I was hurt and how deeply sad I had been. I talked and she
was still and patient.
“…and, six months ago, this is where the money ran out so, I stopped
running and decided to stay. I got the Job at “The Rails end” and pretended that
28
life was just fine. And, I guess it was. Until you came along.” She sat up and looked
at me.
“Until I came along?” She looked scared. “Did I do something wrong?”
I pulled her back down to me. “No.” I said. “you didn’t do anything wrong.
You did something very right.” She smiled. “You just opened my eyes and made
me realize that … well, that I was living a sham and it was time to get into life
again.”
“Welcome back.” She said and she kissed me. She rolled over so she was
laying on my chest. She kept the kiss going.
“I still need … time.” I said, finally.
“I know.” She assured me. “And, we’ll take all the time you need.” We were
silent again, listening to the rain. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but, when I
woke up she wasn’t there. It was like those dreams you have when you’re a kid.
You dream you’ve gotten out of bed and dressed and gone to school and now all
the rest of the day was yours, then, you realize it was just a dream and there was
a full day of school ahead of you.
The knock on my door pulled me out of bed. Maybe it would be show and
tell day at school or, better still, a substitute teacher and a film. It was Gail.
“Hi lover.” She immediately invited herself in. I stayed at the door, checked
the hall.
“Hello, Gail”
“Listen, sweetie” She said. “I can’t stay long, I’m heading out of town, my
brother is getting married so I’m going home for a bit.”
29
I knew very little about Gail. I knew that she had made he living on her
back. When she started letting people film her doing her job with many partners
and, sometimes, animals, she began calling herself an actress. I knew that she
was looking for her one true love. I always thought that was sex. And, I knew she
wrote school girl level love poetry that was so bad it would have made Pablo
Neruda become a sports writer and disavow all knowledge of his former genre.
Now I knew she had a brother.
“You have a brother?” I asked.
“Yes,” She said. “Henry. He’s my younger brother and I am very proud of
him.” Strange to me. I never even thought of Gail as having parents. I always
assumed that people like her were formed from blocks of pure chaos and then
dropped onto the earth fully formed and developed. Now I had the images of her
as a little girl, living a normal family life, going to school … dating. It was almost
too much to comprehend.
“What happened?” I said before I had the chance to edit myself.
“What do you mean?” She asked.
“Um … I meant, when does this happen.” Hoping she bought it. She did.
“Early next month.” She said. “But, things are slow right now so I thought
I’d go and spend some time with my family.” Suddenly I had the vision of house
full of bedrooms and the entire family working over time to pay for the wedding. I
shuddered.
30
“That sounds great, Gail” I forced a smile. “Do you need me to do anything?
Water the plants, feed the cat, walk the chimp?’ She had none of these in the
house but I wanted to appear to be the good neighbor.
“Oh, how sweet.” She said. “No, doll. I just didn’t want you to worry about
me if you got the frights in the night and knocked on my door. She had this way of
trying to be “cute” and little girlish when she was sober and trying to seduce. It
made my flesh crawl. She stepped close to me and undid a button on her blouse.
“Um … Gail, I …” She reached in and pulled a key out of her bra and laughed
at my obvious discomfort.
“I had an extra key made for you. If you don’t mind, would you get my
mail?” She pressed the key into my hand and leaned in for a kiss. I kissed her
forehead and she hugged me.
“I’m going to miss you so much.” She said. “Is my favorite neighbor going to
miss me?” My flesh crawled. Off my body, across the floor and leapt out the
window to it’s death. I listen to the receding, faint shriek and the dull splut as it
hit the earth below.
“Of course I’m going to miss you.” I said.
“Good.” She said and kissed me quickly. She headed to the door. “I’ll knock
on your door as soon as I get back” She told me.
I can’t wait.” I said and then, she was gone.
31