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"Did you promise Abbie you'd take him to get ice cream when the weather gets warmer?"
I sip my coffee. "Yes, Dawn, I did. Guilty as charged."
"Oh, there's nothing wrong with that, it's just that the twins think you're not gonna take them."
"That's silly."
"Well, they don't think so."
"Well, I'll ask them next time, won't I?"
Dawn smiles.
"Hey George!"
I look over, and Don Don has taken a stool three down. "Hi, Donald."
"Hey, George, ever wonder why batteries have acid in them?"
"Donald, I'm talking to Dawn right now, I have no time for batteries."
"Whuh?"
Imbecile! Does he ever get tired of asking ridiculous questions? Look, I'm sorry, but I've never suffered fools kindly. Neither did the guy currently gracing the satellite feed: one Francis Albert Sinatra. 'Learning The Blues'.
Dawn heads back up the counter to take more orders. Don Don reads the menu; his lips move with his eyes. Suddenly, my cell rings.
"Well, well, well! Hellloooooooo Brenda!"
"Hi. Sorry I haven't been able to keep up with you."
"No, how are things going with...uh...you know who?"
There's an audible sigh. I don't like it. "Not so good?" I ask quietly.
"Incubator period."
"I know what you mean."
"Could you come over? I need you. I need you here."
I sigh myself. "Mind if I finish my coffee?"
"I'll make you coffee. Just get here." Now, that was an order.
I take out a couple of singles and some change and lay it on the counter. "Gotta run," I tell Dawn.
"Anything wrong?"
"I don't know." I put on my down jacket and burgundy wool knit cap. "Brenda has summoned me."
"Is she okay? She hasn't been in here in a while."
"Brenda, I think, is hooked, cooked, and caught in the tender trap." As long as Frank's playing, why not offer the pithy and the witty?
Dawn doesn't seem sure of what I speak of, but she offers her best as I leave.
*
I park on Brenda's darkened driveway, behind her dark green 1966 Chevrolet Apache 10 shortbed Fleetside. Three on the tree, and the omnipresent smell of gasoline embedded in the morrokide. Charm, thy name is Pickup.
Brenda answers the door, and beckons me in. The lights are low, and her stereo's playing the instantly recognizable Melissa Etheridge. It's her self-titled first album, which, almost impossible to believe, came out TWENTY years ago! The personal nature of the songs on this album comes close to reeking of...um...
Sinatra.
"Here." Brenda hands me a mug of fresh coffee, black, with two Sweet 'n Lows. She knows the way I like it the same way my own sister would. "You hungry?"
"Not really. What's the matter?"
"I think I'm trying too hard."
"She backing off?"
Pause. "I think so." Brenda's voice is cracking just a bit.
"You know, I could just blurt out that you should stop trying too hard, but it's not like you don't already know that."
"I'm in love, George."
"I kind of figured."
"I'm in love. I'm completely head over heels, inside out, totally out of my fucking mind in love, George. I don't know what to do."
"Is she aware of this?"
"She might be. Maybe not. I haven't told her. Maybe she figured it out, who knows?"
"Did you speak to her tonight?"
Brenda looks at me. "Please stay tonight. Don't go. If you go, you know what I'm gonna do. This is too big for even Monique." Monique, her AA sponsor, is used to crises like this from her charges; this, though...well... "Please?"
This is not even a threat. It's a promise, of course. "I'm here. I'll explain to Carolyn in the morning."
"George, I've never known anyone like her. In my life. Rose wasn't like her, Rose was Rose. But, this one's from another planet. I'm forty-nine fucking years old, this shit never happens to anyone who's forty-nine!"
"I don't think that's true, but I understand what you mean." I sip the coffee. A little on the strong side. "So, did you talk to her tonight?" I repeat.
"Yes. I think she's spooked. She's avoiding making plans with me."
"Maybe she's BUSY."
"I think she's spooked."
"Brenda, you grow things like this slowly. I know you're in a mad rush for the train to Happily Ever After, and we all know none of us are gettin' any younger, but you grow something like this brick by brick. Just stop pushing and go with the flow, you'll be okay."
"You know, I can get cliches like this out of a fortune cookie."
"It's the truth, though. Just go with the flow. It's more than just a cliche."
"How?"
"Just talk to her. Just talk about things, talk about life. Just let the conversation flower."
"Uh-huh."
"And don't make plans! Just talk to her. Easy."
Brenda takes a deep breath, and lies down on the couch. She lifts her right leg, and lets it rest on the couch backstop. "Is this what you did with Carolyn?"
"Yes. She was impatient to meet, though. All that madness was her idea. We'd probably still be just talking on the phone if I didn't finally give in."
"Oh, bullshit."
Her cellphone rings; she answers it, and gives me a furtive look. "Oh, hi," she says, with a sigh and a smile.
I do a circular motion with my hands, to indicate that she should just go with the flow, and to relax. Within seconds, Brenda's giggling, quite like the little boy who sees his neighbor's dad exit the house for work with a hole in his pants. I kick off my shoes, and make myself comfortable on the couch. I feel as good as Brenda does right now.
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Posted by Knoxxie03 on 2008-02-21 20:58:23 | Rating: | Views: 66
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I know how Brenda feels. I know what its like to be head over heels, insanely in love. I also know what it's like to lose, to drop the ball. It's a pain that never leaves...
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Posted by crydun2004
on 2008-02-23 16:10:20
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