Eighteen

 

Eighteen

 

     E told me to wait a couple of days before calling her after our last night on the town with the

 bumper cars and with the fire dancer, so I did. She said she was going to be out of town visiting

 Mr. Long Beach. I said to say hello to his friendly friends. She said she intended on breaking up

 with him. I told her she didn’t need to on my account, but secretly I hoped that I could be the

 only one occupying her brain. I waited and dealt with the ache I felt from being away from her.

 It seemed to lessen each time we parted, but there was pain, nonetheless. I felt needy and weak

 and at the same time happy and secure. It was a weird feeling.

     When she finally telephoned E sounded on edge. I listened as she told the trouble she was

 having breaking up with Mr. Long Beach. The detailing of the drama finally ran its course and E

 said she wanted to see me the next weekend. Her sister was having a party at her house and if I

 wanted, I could go with her and spend the night and leave the next morning. She said she was

 going to San Luis Obispo to visit a friend and she would drop me off at the train station on her

 way out of town. It sounded great and she said for me to take the train down and go to her work.

 I said I’d rather just have her pick me up at the station. She told me which train to take to time it

 right. She didn’t really feel like talking much more because she was emotionally exhausted from

 her dealing with Mr. Long Beach. I asked her if I needed to bring anything for the party. She

 said all I needed to bring was my beautiful self and after telling her that wasn’t a problem it was

 goodnight and then I laid in bed unable to sleep for almost two hours while my mind raced with

 anticipation of seeing her. Sometimes I wish my brain had a switch that I could just turn on or

 off.

#

     A coworker said it was time for flowers.

     Before I got on the train, I bought a bouquet of assorted flowers at the small gift stand next to

 the ticket window just behind the chain link fence maze that led to the platform. The scene was

 the same as before with the station being under construction and the urban wasteland that

 follows the tracks until you get to the racetrack. I passed time by listening to music on my

 phone. I had not been sleeping very well at the time and was drinking a lot of coffee and

 smoking a lot of cigarettes. My brain was rather jumpy, and I had these horrible dark circles

 under my eyes. I was wearing sunglasses. There wasn’t a whole lot I could about my face. I

 figured I would try to make up for it by dressing sharp and thinking before I spoke so as not to

 say anything too strange. Some of you might have seen films where movie audiences followed a

 bouncing ball on the screen that kept the beat of the music and hopped over the words to a song.

 I saw it in a movie about what it was like to be alive before television. It showed people sitting

 in the theatre singing along to a bouncing ball. Anyway, that’s what my brain felt like as I

 listened to my phone as the train rolled along: The bouncing ball.

     I called E as soon as I got off the train and she said she would be right over. After waiting

 about half an hour, I called again, and she said she was finishing up with a customer and was on

 her way. I sat on top of a baggage locker in the sun watching a homeless woman shouting at a

 group of teenagers waiting for the bus. She was relentless and the kids were huddled to one side

 of the plexiglass stop trying their best to ignore her. When the bus finally came, and the kids

 were no longer there for the lady to yell at, she directed her attention to the traffic passing and

 began shouting at cars as they drove by. She started screaming that all she wanted was money to

 get something to eat at McDonalds. I left my travel bag and flowers on top of the baggage locker

 and hopped to the ground and walked to where she was and gave her some money. She barely

 acknowledged my presence. She just shoved the money inside her dirty pants and ambled on

 down the sidewalk towards the golden arches muttering something about how a person has to

 practically scream their head off before someone pays any attention or listens to what they are

 saying.

     Fifteen minutes had passed since E said she was finishing up with a customer and was on her

 way and I called her again. One of her coworkers said she just left and I said thanks and returned

 to my perch.

     I told myself if she didn’t show up within fifteen more minutes I would get back on the train

 and give the flowers I had to the first good looking woman I saw and I meant it. I had never

 waited so long for a girl to arrive in my life. I didn’t know if she was punishing me for not

 following her initial request of meeting her at work or if she had been truly tied up with a

 customer. When I saw her pull into the parking lot, I was so glad to just be getting inside a car

 and going somewhere I didn’t say anything. I just handed her the flowers and gave her a kiss.

     She made a fuss over the bouquet as she tore out of the parking lot onto the street, placing it

 next to the suitcase in the back with one hand and steering with the other. She looked good as

 always and it seemed to me like she might have gone home and changed because her make up

 and outfit seemed fresh.

     As we left the peninsula and got onto the San Mateo Bridge, I threw my overnight bag on top

 of E’s suitcase and looked at the murky water and fantasized about her pulling a hard right and

 sending us to a watery death.

     It took a while to find her sister’s house because E didn’t have an address. She just knew

 where approximately it was and I was completely amazed when we found the place because

 basically all the houses looked the same, but after driving up and down several streets following

 some invisible bread crumb like trail inside her head we parked outside the house. E grabbed the

 flowers from the back and asked if I minded if she gave them to her sister because she forgot to

 get anything to bring as a gift. I said it was fine and we got out and walked to the front door. E’s

 sister answered with a big smile saying hello in an exaggerated way and was very pleased with

 the flowers. E said she bought them just for her and went to the kitchen and got a vase from the

 cupboard above the sink. E’s sister’s husband came trotting down the carpeted living room stairs

 and introduced herself. He was a very nice, very White man whose hello was almost

 exaggerated as his wife’s.

     Eventually we all got comfortable enough with one another to linger around inside the kitchen

 and all pitched in helping prepare the food for the party. E’s sister’s husband was sautéing

 shrimp in some kind of special sauce on top of the stove and E’s sister was preparing crab dip

 while E and I worked on a tossed salad together. I had the duty of washing and cutting the stuff

 that went inside and E, well, I don’t remember how she helped exactly. I just remember telling

 her telling her sister about me spending the weekend pretending to be Jim.

     Either E’s sister was pretty good at hiding how strange she thought it was, or didn’t find it

 strange at all because she just laughed and kept saying really after each detail was provided by

 E. The husband was talking on his phone and stirring his concoction at the same time. He was

 talking loudly and smiling to whoever was on the other side of his conversation. I was glad. I

 didn’t mind E’s sister knowing about our weird weekend, but I didn’t want the husband to know

 because he might have felt uncomfortable and not include me in his conversation with the guys.

     I’m sure he learned about it from his wife eventually.

     The food was finished and placed in its special places in the refrigerator and on the dining

 room table for all to enjoy and we settled into the living room to make pleasant conversation. I

 was actually quite tired due to my lack of sleep and caught myself nodding off a few times. My

 head would bob up and I would wake each time to see E’s sister looking at me concerned. She

 asked if I wanted coffee and I said please. Come to think of it I don’t remember having eaten

 that day either. Anyway, the coffee definitely did the trick. I perked right up and joined in.

     The place was very nice. There was a huge wall television, high end stereo system, and

 flowery furniture and potpourri. More White people with exaggerated hellos began arriving

 which was a relief because the more people the easier it was for me to step inside the jumpy

 comfort of my brain and keep my participation to a minimum, allowing me to be a spectator of

 sorts and soak in the almost blinding paleness of the scene.

     Someone began playing pop hits from twenty years ago and the party was underway.

     I was amazed by the ego everywhere. It seemed as if everyone stood stiffly and raised their

 head when they spoke, puffing up like blowfish. I got the feeling that I didn’t belong. I am

 damaged. Those folks seemed like they had coasted through life with only minor complaints to

 report. I did my best to blend and talk about what it was that interested them, mostly jobs,

 money, and television. It got tiring and eventually I just sat in the living room near the high-end

 stereo system flipping through the wedding photo albums that were displayed on the coffee

 table. E came from upstairs and joined me, sitting on my lap and pressing herself close as she

 narrated the photos in the album. Her sister and brother-in-law were basically newlyweds who

 only got hitched a little over a year ago. E’s father was in a lot of the photos. Everyone was

 obviously drunk, but he looked like drinking was killing him. He had that withered look of an

 alcoholic on his last legs. E looked fantastic. She pointed at herself in the photos and pressed

 herself even closer and said something about wouldn’t it be great to be married and come home

 to her every day and I had to agree that it would be wonderful.

     One of those radio songs that you heard too much and know simply because of repetition

 began to play and E pulled me up to dance. There were already a few others dancing, mostly

 women, and I joined them. I had never danced in someone’s house before. I had always gone

 out to a club, but the privacy of a house party allowed for one to cut loose, even more than one

 would in public, and the ladies were grinding away. They were moving like dancers I’ve seen in

 strip clubs, slowly, full of pelvic motion, hands folded behind their heads or arms raised in the

 air.

     I got bored after a couple songs and went out to the patio and sat down in a lawn chair

 looking up at the big starry sky. Except for the music and talk from the house the neighborhood

 was quiet and I could even hear crickets chirping if I listened hard enough.

     There were a few other people on the patio and it took me awhile to realize that they were

 watching E dance by herself through the sliding glass door and making fun of her. I stood up,

 gave them a long, long, look to kill, then went inside and joined her. I danced and smiled at the

 patio people then took E by the hand and led her out the front door and down the street. At the

 end of the street, I sat down on the curb and she sat down next to me and just looked at me for a

 long time. I had my face buried in my hands. I could sense her looking at me. She asked if I was

 strung out and I told her no, then she said there was something she wanted to give me. I asked

 her what it was, and she started punching me in the arm as hard as she could. At first it felt kind

 of good, then I just endured it hoping she would stop, and when she didn’t, I shoved her away

 from me and she fell off the curb onto the street. I rubbed my arm and asked her why in the hell

 she did that and she said she wanted to give me something to remind me of her when we weren’t

 together. I told her I would rather have a photograph, and she just laughed and laid down on her

 back in the street and told me to get on top of her. I said no and she said fine and began moaning

 in a very exaggerated way. She was so silly I just started laughing and tapped her lightly on the

 thigh with the toe of my shoe. She reached her climax and enjoyed a brief afterglow with herself

 and then sat up and smiled. I told her that it was obvious that she was faking, and she said she

 could use a cigarette and stood up. I joined her and she wrapped her arms around mine and said

 she couldn’t wait to see my bruise tomorrow.  I didn’t say anything and just shook my head and

 looked at her sparkling mischievous eyes. She had the idea of ringing one of the neighbors

 doorbell and running off and I told her she could do what she liked, but I was too old for that.

 She untangled herself from my arm and walked quietly up the sidewalk of one of the

 neighboring houses and slowly, silently, opened up the gate that led to the front door and

 disappeared from my view. I stood where I was and waited for to bolt from the place and up the

 block, but nothing happened. I had the terrible idea that maybe she decided to do a little

 breaking and entering, rummaging through the bedroom in search of some odd trinket, but that

 thought was entertained for only an instant as I saw E step back out the gate and walk down the

 sidewalk even more quietly than before. She said that she lost her nerve, but it was nice to see

 that I waited for her and then she challenged me to a race and ran off up the block. I wasn’t

 about to let her beat me. I sprinted to catch her and did so quite fast, then I zoomed on ahead to

 her car. I was unlocked. I reached into her glovebox and got my cigarettes lighting one, leaning

 against the passenger side door. When she made it to me, she said I cheated. I handed her my

 cigarette and lit myself a new one. We finished the smokes and then went back to the party.

     Boy was my arm sore.

     Back inside the only thing that had changed was that everybody was a little sloppier and

 louder. We hung out for a while, but E had to get up early to head down to San Luis Obispo and

 I was spent, so we told her sister goodnight and headed upstairs into the guest room. E took off

 her jewelry and unstrapped her bra and removed it from under her blouse tossing it onto the

 nightstand. She kicked off her shoes and then got on the bed with the rest of her clothes on lying

 on top of the covers looking up at me intensely. I sat down on the bed, took off my shoes, watch,

 belt and unsnapped the first two buttons of my pants just to be more comfortable and then

 stretched out on the bed facing her. I remember both of us just staring at each other and the next

 thing I knew I was waking up from being asleep and seeing her still looking at me. It was odd.

 It was almost like I could actually feel her eyes because when I woke up, I caught just a glimpse

 of them. When I did, she immediately slammed them shut and acted like she was sleeping. We

 both had our hands cupped together in each other’s legs as we were curled up like two bugs in a

 rug. Up to that point this was the best I had felt since my divorce and I was really sad when E

 poked me at about five o’clock and asked me what time it was because when I told her she just

 got out of bed and went into the bathroom. All of a sudden, I felt what it was like not to have

 someone sleeping with me again. I just turned to the side and looked at the light that trickled out

 from under the bathroom door and wished that I could freeze time.