stairway,” which is what happens
when you run down the stairs thinking of different ways you could have done or
said something, now that you had a moment to think about it. That’s what I had,
stairway spirit, I thought as I passed the landing that held Trace’s door.
Not that I could think of anything else to have said
or done, really. I guess I could have just interrupted Jackie and, using sheer
volume, explained my side of the story, but that just wasn’t my style.
I could still hear Cap and Jackie upstairs. “You never
stop to think, Jackie,” Cap growled. “You forget, I know Trace better than you
do.” Jackie’s reply faded as I got to the bottom.
Nico peered anxiously out the passenger side window of
the hulking gray behemoth that was his pride and joy, a gunmetal gray
conversion van converted from utility to mini rec room, complete with pullout
sofalike thing in the back (and a box of assorted toys—footballs, Frisbees,
baseball gloves, swim fins—stuff like that, as well as towels and Tshirts), a
little porta-potty in its own privacy cupboard, and sink with assorted car-type
parts and tools that might one day prove useful beneath it.
“You okay?” he asked as I strode over to the door and
jumped in.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” I breathed out as I buckled
myself in. I rooted around in my bag for my pack of cigarettes, found one, then
lit it, the first for the day.
Nico nodded his head in understanding and pulled away
from the curb as I blew smoke out the window. I let my thoughts drift with it
as we drove in silence.
Nico respected my need for head space, and soon I was
able to recapture my “good morning” mood. I would have time to let the back of
my mind work toward solutions. Besides, my stomach rumbled, reminding me that I
needed food, and, really, who can think if they’re hungry?
“So,” I asked conversationally, “we still going to
Jerry’s? Cause if we are, you’re headed the wrong way,” I informed him as we
went in the opposite direction.
“Oh, yeah,” Nico grinned at me, “we can still do
that.” He sighted down the street for a likely turning block and set a signal.
As we drove, sunlight flashing on the sidewalk through
the trees, it occurred to me that it was July, after all, and though the summer
felt endless, we didn’t have all that many sunny and free days left. Soon
enough I would have to wait in line for registration, buy books, and juggle
classes and work schedules, and Nico would be off with his trunk packed with
new undershorts and linens to his own schooling. Fuck it. I don’t like to waste
rare, beautiful days. We could go to Jerry’s some other time, when it was
raining. Now was now. Even if I didn’t swim, I could still roll my jeans up,
and Nico most likely had a couple of spare shorts in the back of the vehicle
somewhere. And they were probably mine. Besides, I could pay off and pick up my
guitar after the sun went down.
“You know, we could just grab some bagels and
chocolate milk and go to the beach,” I suggested. “Whatchya say?” I grinned at
him.
“Shit, yeah, the beach,” he responded, his eyes
shining brightly at me for a moment before he had to return his attention to
the road.
“Sun and sand, here we come,” I sang out, visions of
the surf crashing against the shore filling my head, and the taste of an egg
bagel with a little mustard and Muenster cheese followed by a Nestle Quik
chocolate milk to wash it down filling my mouth. I was there already.
Sexy
Eiffel Towers
Let me tell you something darling,
You’re doing fine…
Now you’ve shown me all of yours I’ll let you into
mine
But me, I like a pretty boy, I love a hard-edged girl
“For The Love of
Boyz’n Grrlz”—Life Underwater
∗ ∗ ∗ ∗
Trace and I didn’t speak for days, but it wasn’t as if
we had a chance. Between Cap’s and Jackie’s schedules, combined with mine as
well as Trace’s, it was a wonder any of us ever got to see each other. And
when you run down the stairs thinking of different ways you could have done or
said something, now that you had a moment to think about it. That’s what I had,
stairway spirit, I thought as I passed the landing that held Trace’s door.
Not that I could think of anything else to have said
or done, really. I guess I could have just interrupted Jackie and, using sheer
volume, explained my side of the story, but that just wasn’t my style.
I could still hear Cap and Jackie upstairs. “You never
stop to think, Jackie,” Cap growled. “You forget, I know Trace better than you
do.” Jackie’s reply faded as I got to the bottom.
Nico peered anxiously out the passenger side window of
the hulking gray behemoth that was his pride and joy, a gunmetal gray
conversion van converted from utility to mini rec room, complete with pullout
sofalike thing in the back (and a box of assorted toys—footballs, Frisbees,
baseball gloves, swim fins—stuff like that, as well as towels and Tshirts), a
little porta-potty in its own privacy cupboard, and sink with assorted car-type
parts and tools that might one day prove useful beneath it.
“You okay?” he asked as I strode over to the door and
jumped in.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” I breathed out as I buckled
myself in. I rooted around in my bag for my pack of cigarettes, found one, then
lit it, the first for the day.
Nico nodded his head in understanding and pulled away
from the curb as I blew smoke out the window. I let my thoughts drift with it
as we drove in silence.
Nico respected my need for head space, and soon I was
able to recapture my “good morning” mood. I would have time to let the back of
my mind work toward solutions. Besides, my stomach rumbled, reminding me that I
needed food, and, really, who can think if they’re hungry?
“So,” I asked conversationally, “we still going to
Jerry’s? Cause if we are, you’re headed the wrong way,” I informed him as we
went in the opposite direction.
“Oh, yeah,” Nico grinned at me, “we can still do
that.” He sighted down the street for a likely turning block and set a signal.
As we drove, sunlight flashing on the sidewalk through
the trees, it occurred to me that it was July, after all, and though the summer
felt endless, we didn’t have all that many sunny and free days left. Soon
enough I would have to wait in line for registration, buy books, and juggle
classes and work schedules, and Nico would be off with his trunk packed with
new undershorts and linens to his own schooling. Fuck it. I don’t like to waste
rare, beautiful days. We could go to Jerry’s some other time, when it was
raining. Now was now. Even if I didn’t swim, I could still roll my jeans up,
and Nico most likely had a couple of spare shorts in the back of the vehicle
somewhere. And they were probably mine. Besides, I could pay off and pick up my
guitar after the sun went down.
“You know, we could just grab some bagels and
chocolate milk and go to the beach,” I suggested. “Whatchya say?” I grinned at
him.
“Shit, yeah, the beach,” he responded, his eyes
shining brightly at me for a moment before he had to return his attention to
the road.
“Sun and sand, here we come,” I sang out, visions of
the surf crashing against the shore filling my head, and the taste of an egg
bagel with a little mustard and Muenster cheese followed by a Nestle Quik
chocolate milk to wash it down filling my mouth. I was there already.
Sexy
Eiffel Towers
Let me tell you something darling,
You’re doing fine…
Now you’ve shown me all of yours I’ll let you into
mine
But me, I like a pretty boy, I love a hard-edged girl
“For The Love of
Boyz’n Grrlz”—Life Underwater
∗ ∗ ∗ ∗
Trace and I didn’t speak for days, but it wasn’t as if
we had a chance. Between Cap’s and Jackie’s schedules, combined with mine as
well as Trace’s, it was a wonder any of us ever got to see each other. And
Similar Books
