Nine

 

Nine

 

     While I was waiting for the magic night of my second date with E she called and said she

 wanted to come to the city to get together and did I know anything fun we could do. I told her a

 friend of mine was having an open house at the artist co-op that she lived in. E seemed

 somewhat hesitant, but I convinced her it would indeed be fun. So, she said okay and instructed

 me to meet her the next day at a tourist restaurant. I was elated.

     I carried a second set of clothes in my backpack to work. I shaved, brushed my teeth, and

 changed in the bathroom. I wore this long cashmere coat that I was given as a gift. As I waited

 for my first bus I tried to stay away from people and things that would soil it. Once I got on my

 first bus it dawned on me what a drag it was to have to take a bus when you are dressed up.

 Buses are filthy.

     I got on my second bus and began my slow crawl up Van Ness past City Hall and the cleaned-

up park area in the back near the library. The homeless people used to congregate in this area

 until the mayor trimmed the trees to mere shrubs to not offer any real shelter for them and the

 police began moving them along.

     We passed Symphony Hall. It’s a very nice place. I’ve seen a few performances there. Last

 year I saw this rather elaborate piece that had a chorus in addition to a full orchestra. I think it

 was by Mendelson. They had some woman pop out of doors above the crowd like a cuckoo

 clock.

     There are these doors way up in the rafters I never noticed before that they must reserve for

 that rare musical moment that requires such vocal placement. In the same show there were also

 singers in the upper balcony, and they stood from the crowd and sang their part then sat down

 and disappeared among the audience. At this show it was the first time I really paid attention to

 the conductor. The maestro. I was sitting second row. I got to really witness his antics. He was

 quite animated. Gesturing and swaying and pausing and pointing. I’ve always wondered if he is

 really necessary. I mean these are accomplished musicians and they do have the sheet music in

 front of them. Since I don’t know much about it, I’ll assume the conductor is necessary.

 Sometimes I would think that his motions would be distracting.

     I stepped off the bus and crossed the street entering the tourist restaurant.

     They were playing horrible songs from yesteryear, and I waited and sang along. I waited. And

 I waited. Just as I was getting angry and was about to leave E came busting through the door

 wearing a dress and tall leather boots. All was forgiven.

     She sat next to me at the bar, and we ordered some God-awful food and while we waited, she

 batted her pretty eyes and smiled at me. I told her I really liked her boots, and she hoisted a leg

 up onto the bar, stretching it out in full, stroking it with one of her pretty, plump hands. The

 bartender did a double take and I told him not to worry we were leaving a nice tip. I really

 wanted to run my hand along her thigh, but I was too dizzy to move.

     We ate and talked without pause and then we left to go see my artist friend’s open house.

     E complimented me on my cashmere coat as I got into her car. She drove and played the radio

 very loud. I totally dug it because we looked good together. I asked her many times if I could

 drive her car. She always said no.

     We got to my neighborhood and parked in front of my artist friends building. The night

 helped hide the unattractiveness of the street. There was no denying that we weren’t in Kansas

 anymore. I told E to make sure and lock her car up. She said it would be fine and left her

 window rolled down.

     The atmosphere was festive inside. We climbed the cement stairs to my friend’s floor and

 made our way among the artwork, many of which were grand in scale and design. Several of the

 artist’s apartments were open and converted into mini stores with each selling their work. I

 remember one that dealt with wood carvings and another place had large mechanical people. I

 met my friend near the wine and cheese table and introduced her to E who surprised me by

 carrying on a very normal conversation.

     Before we left, I took her to the far corner of the floor and showed her my favorite pieces.

 They were large grotesque figures that reminded me of Mardi Gras. They depicted urbanites

 with extreme attitudes like the spiky-haired punk with the dog collar baring his teeth, fists ready

 to rumble. There was a bust of a woman in progress, and it was lying on its back on the floor. E

 saw it and informed me that she could do that as well and she laid down and arched her back

 keeping both feet and hands flat. It was a truly impressive pose, and as I thought of many things,

 she stood, took my hand, and led me outside to her car.

     She wanted to know what was next and I asked her if she wanted to see my place. We drove a

 few blocks and parked again among the trash and graffiti. As we walked to my apartment E took

 my arm and leaned her head against my shoulder trying, I guess to create a romantic mood. But

 in all honesty, it is hard to feel romantic while you are having to keep an eye out for dog crap on

 the sidewalk and step over piles of trash.

     When we got inside my apartment, I could tell my roommate was home and all my fantasies

 instantly popped like soap bubbles. I led E into the front room, and she sat on the sofa and I got

 her a beer. My roommate and E talked about this and that, mostly about the difference between

 old money and new money people. They are both from old money backgrounds.

     My roommate invited us to join her and two of her friends who also come from old money

 backgrounds to the bar across the street and we did. The place is cool. It has chairs that have

 bases made from large pieces of metal that are formed like big bed springs. While you’re

 drinking you sit and bounce. I didn’t sit on one of those chairs. I sat in a booth. E sat next to me

 with her arms around my waist.

     My roommate’s friends were quite nice. They are two White men from out East who have the

 same first name and they differ from one another by the surname big and little. They both did

 great Kennedy imitations.

     As I walked E back to her car, she had her arm in mine and her head on my shoulder again.

 Like I said this isn’t the most romantic neighborhood. In fact, we barely missed getting doused

 with a cup of water some brat poured out of his window as we walked by.