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.