Dale

Fiction for me, is my truth. Though one person’s truth is another’s… well, you’ll see. The names and events and places in this book, though they are true to me, exist to no one else. You may recognize yourself, but then again, isn’t that the point?For Daddy.

What the fuck? Dale couldn’t figure out why the fire alarm was going off in her dreamstate bathroom. Can’t a girl wallow in the tub in peace?  She stopped and her disembodied self slipped back to floating in the mists. Damn!!!   Her mind made a mental note to turn off the alarm when she woke up. A soap bubble drifted through her life and landed on her nose. It popped. The bell rang again. Fuck. Someone must be at the door. Dale willed the door open from the tub of her mind. No one was there. Then Her Self stuck her head around the corner. 

[God, not you again.]

“Excuse me, but I’m not ready to wake up yet.”  

[Snide Bitch.]

“Sorry, but you have to the phone is ringing.” Her Self answered from the doorway. Dale looked through another bubble caught in her vision. The bell rang again. What was that racket?

“Oh!  The phone!” Her Self nodded with a satisfied look, having finally gotten through to her. Dale shook the water off her hands and sat up abruptly, the sheets falling to her waist. She reached for the phone. 

“Hello?” She hadn’t had time to clear her throat.

“Dale, it’s Mama. I have some bad news.” She wouldn’t start that way if it weren’t true.  Dale kept her eyes shut. 

“What is it?”

“Katherine and Daddy T. were in a car accident this morning. Kath’s in the hospital.” There was a slight pause in which Dale heard Mama collecting her breath. “Your Daddy is dead.”

Dale watched Lucy over her coffee cup. She looked put together, as usual. Sitting across the wooden counter top nee butcher block in the kitchen, Dale might have assumed she just had a bad day. Her eyes were puffy though. The same puffy eyes she had when grandpa died years ago. They weren’t allowed at the funeral that time. 

“We need to get home.”

“I already booked us a flight.” Lucy’s voice was quiet, an airy whisper.

Dale was surprised. Usually, I’m the ‘ responsible one’.

“Luce, you’re supposed to let me take care of those things. I need to feel like I can do something to help you.”  

“He’s your father too.”

“Not the same.”

“In his eyes you are his daughter.” There was a finality in her voice and they fell into an awkward pause. Lucy had been living in southern California for several years. Dale rarely saw her and almost never heard from her. She was sophisticated, more grown up than the last time. Polished and styley.

“Did you get any word on Katherine? Do we know how she’s doing?”

“I’ll have to help Mom with the flowers and the funeral home. There isn’t a whole lot of money for these things. Oh God. Kathy doesn’t even know yet. I didn’t hear anything more than you yet. Broken foot and a smashed leg, she’ll be undergoing surgery as soon as her condition stabilizes. Let’s hope she gets out of the hospital in time. And Aunt Margaret’s folks…” Dale tried to picture their little sister. She was asleep probably and lacking the energy to make any snide, sarcastic comments. 

“Look, I’ll do the flowers with your brother, and I’ll do any calling you need me to. This is family remember?” Lucy was shaking her head, which rested on the table, on the crook of her arm. 

“How do I get through this Dee?” She still hadn’t looked up. Her shoulders shook a little.

“We’ll do it together. Just like we always have. We’ve always survived. We will again. It’s just going to take awhile, that’s all.” Lucy reached her hand across the table. Dale tried not to act surprised. It’s been so long since she needed me for anything. Or would admit it anyway. They had been so competitive they forgot about the rest of being sisters. Dale looked at Lucy’s perfect fingernails. She wasn’t jealous. She thought of Daddy in his big leather chair. The chair that had been around long before either of them. She pushed the memory aside. Lucy’s hands were cold.

“How ’bout we sit in the hot tub?”

“Wouldn’t feel right.” Lucy’s voice was muffled in the wood and her wet sleeve.

“Why not? Because it would relax at least your body before we have to get on the plane?”  Dale thought about finishing the ‘and after that’ but didn’t. Not yet. “C’mon. I’ll turn it on. It’ll feel good, we’ll at least pretend we can get a night’s sleep.” Lucy’s head flew up suddenly.

“How can you act like this is no big deal? Jesus, Dale.”  It was an accusation.

“We’re not going there Lucy. You know me better than that.”

“What, that you can pretend everything is peachy? Under any circumstances? Don’t you ever crack, show anything? Or is there nothing there to show?” Dale brought her hand to her forehead and stared at her sister, refusing to answer the question. She struggled with the desire to throw the mug of coffee in Lucy’s face as she had when they were younger. She restrained herself.

“Luce that’s not fair. You know it.”

“Like I’m going to sleep at all. I should be home with Mom now.”

“Youíll be home tomorrow.”

“That’s not good enough. I should’ve bought the earlier flight.”  Lucy’s voice was loud and cracking. She wouldn’t have the energy to sustain it much longer.

“Lucy, neither of us have an extra four hundred bucks for a few extra hours.”

“It’s more than a few hours. I feel like I’m a few years too late.” There it went, her energy. Limp, dangling from the mast of her spine. Lucy continued, “I should’ve stayed home.”  

“Why?  So you could make money?” Dale answered, keeping her voice soft. “Contribute to the family?  Help out so Daddy wouldn’t work such long hours?  Luce…”  

“He would’ve been ok if he hadn’t worked all that time.”

“Lucy, he never wanted you to stay home. I don’t think he would’ve let you anyway.”  

“It still would have made things easier.”

“Ok, yeah, financially. But for you? It’s not a matter of selfish. My God, you weren’t made to live in Wherever-the-Fuck New England. You could never be happy there. You never were happy there. Daddy missed you Lucy. But he never thought you didn’t love him, he never thought for a minute that you should be any place other than where you are.”

“I should have been there this morning.” She looked at Dale directly, and kept talking. “I can’t believe he’s gone. I really can’t.”  They finished their coffee in silence. The moments passing in their own minds. They thought about the hot tub, anticipating drops of steam on their faces. Dale tried to remember the last time she had heard silence. Funny how I notice the feeling of being alive. The truth is, I’m not upset for him. For him it’s over. The struggle, the sickness… for Mommy P and Lucy and Kath it’ll hurt but… he’s in a better place now. He’s at peace. Dale was surprised at herself. She’d never expected to find calm in a death. The phone rang and Lucy spilled her coffee across the table. Dale threw her a dishrag as she stood to answer the phone.

“Hello?”, Dale used her perfect phone voice. Lucy wiped up the coffee methodically.

“Hey Dale, it’s Max. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. And if there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”

“Thanks. I think we’re ok. Lucy’s up from LA and we’ll be catching a flight out in the wee hours of the morning.”

“Do you need a ride to the airport?”

“No, we’re set. I think we want to be alone, but thanks.”

“I figured, but you never know. Alright then. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“O.k.” The phone clicked dead. Dale listened to the silence at the other end.

“I’m sorry Dee. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Yes, you did. It’s ok. You can’t help being who you are any more than I can help being who I am. There aren’t any apologies that matter.”  

 ********

“Do any of your friends have fathers?”  My boss always manages to get right to the point.  I hadn’t thought about that before either.  Only one, the rest of them don’t.  I mention this to one of them.  She concludes it is only natural to find those who are similar to you.  We never ask each other.  It’s not a question you ask right away.  Do you have a father?  So what is it we have in common?  What in our natures brought us together?  Probably, it’s a coincidence, a sign of the times.  

********

Her mother stood in front of the fireplace arranging her scarf in the mirror above the mantle. Dale was surprised to see dust on the candles in front of it. Her mother had been a meticulous housekeeper while Dale was growing up. It was all she could bear to live with the Tafts, Lucy’s family, for that time after they’d lost their house. To Dale and Lucy it had all been just life. Just fun, and fighting and pulling each others hair. Or the times roller skating around the house before Daddy built the wall from the back hallway into the kitchen. The wall he installed the dollhouse in, as a thank you for the time they stayed. And the fights with Dale’s friend Becky over space and attention. The two of them were just enough older to care. 6 people in a tiny little Cape Cod in Connecticut. To turn the heat on, to not turn the heat on. To stash the placemats away so they wouldn’t be abused, to shelve, file and organize everything to minimize the mess.

“I just wish they’d call.” She finished fussing over her now knotted and bowed scarf. Dale spoke quietly from her corner of the couch.

“Mom, Lucy told me they’d call when the family discussion was over with.”

“It just makes me feel odd. That’s all. It makes me wonder about all the years we’ve spent together…”

“Mom, this isn’t about us.”

“What does that mean? They’re over there talking about whether or not you should go to the wake. That’s about us isn’t it?”

“Our family situation is so unusual. Trying to decide whether or not the two of us are immediate family does present a bit of a challenge.” Dale watched her hands as she folded and unfolded them in her lap. Bobcat jumped up next to her and curled up against her leg, purring.

“How many years did we all live together?”

“I understand what youíre saying, Mama, but not all of them lived with us. Douglas, Timothy and Caroline were already grown and out of the house by that time, with families of their own. We’re not their immediate family, we barely know them. And the Taft family is so huge. Even saying immediate is opening the wake to fifty people. This is not the time to take it personally.” 

“I guess you’re right.”

“I know I’m right.”

“It’s just…”

“Mama the conversation’s over. I’m not talking about it anymore. Yes, we are family. But we’re not the kind of family that would hold up in a court of law, and that’s the kind of nit-picking that’s going on here. If we don’t go to the wake, we’ll go to the memorial. It’s ok.” Her mother turned around, and sat in the red leather chair next to the couch. Back when her real father left, before Dale could remember, he had brought those chairs and the furniture he didn’t take with him to the dump. Her mother had salvaged what she could out of the dump with a neighbor’s truck. She had saved so much. Even with everything that was going on around her then.

“Is it ok?” Her mother’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“Is what ok?”

“For you. Not going to the wake.” Dale thought about it. She tried to feel it out, but she was drained.

“It’ll have to be, Mama.” She spoke softly. “He loved me, I loved him. He raised me as much as you did, and he loved me. I know that. Lucy knows that and so does her mother. But that’s not to say I can take the same place as his birth children. I can’t. I know that too.” She paused and gently blew air into her cat’s ear. Smiling a little as it twitched and Bobcat looked up at her in smug kitty annoyance. “It’s ok Mom. This isn’t about us.”

********

“Let me think about that for a minute ok?” She put her hand up to her head to shield her eyes. How many more times was she supposed to cry in front of him? It’s completely stupid. People live their lives all the time. Lives so much worse than her’s.

Driving down the Williamston Road I feel at home for the first time.  Back in the open spaces, the trees the fields.  I slow down driving by the old Fiske farm.  There are always deer in the field, and the view is worth stopping for anyway.  My music is on, as it always is when I drive, and I am singing.  It’s best to sing in the car. A song came up on the mix I made “…strange how I falter to find I’m standing in deep water, strange how my heart beats to find myself upon your shore”.  A feeling I have yet to feel.    

It is now that you appear, as you usually do in the quiet moments alone.  I find myself talking to my true love, my one and only.  Imagining a conversation between two devoted lovers.  We sing a little bit together and then talk.  This time the scenario is a reunion.  We have been apart.  Across an ocean from each other.  We’ve only met once, but one glance has done the trick.  We confess our undying love in all sorts of beautiful, poetic ways.  As you reach for my hand across the car, I hit the brakes suddenly.  A deer stands locked in my headlights.  I know without looking you are no longer there.

**********

Why today? Why now? Why here?  Is there any reason Fate has to choose this time and place?  The man’s red plaid shirt bobbed around her line of vision, sleeves shaking and flailing. Her head rested on the steering wheel of the truck. The sound of a parade several blocks away reverberates in her head. Voices yelling and she is waiting for the siren. Could I hear it yet?  The red plaid shirt grows larger. Pele has an LL Bean shirt like that. Dale’s shirt was stuck to her, holding her in place. There is a loud shriek of metal, and the green leaves come up into the passenger seat.Why isn’t the siren here yet?  The shriek comes again only it is the same. Dale started.Shit that hurt. Why now?

Did that happen again?  Have I seen this before?  Nothing was in front of her eyes but red. God, that’s an awful color. The blur moves alittle. She is face to face with LL Bean. She is answering someone. He was asking Dale questions. She couldn’t decipher what she was saying. Something about my sister, Kathy. The red starts to get smaller, black is closing in on it. Pushing it out of her eyes. She sees the green again, the truck is coasting into it and finally, there is the siren. Thank God for small towns. Thank God for small towns. She screams for Dave when she sees the flash of green. The truck is coming toward her. Right before my truck came toward me. She hears the siren and Dave is there. She didn’t see the ambulance, because he was there. It must be here. It is all silence. I didn’t think they’d be this quiet, ambulances. She was astounded to hear something, someone yelling, “Get the fuck out of the way!” She told them she was glad they had practice driving the farm trucks. The shit trucks she’d called them. She had time to relax. In seconds she was on a table under bright lights.

 Dale came to in a catscan machine. She slid into the tube, and away from the face of a lovely technician. On any other day,  she might have hit on him. Tears slid down her face and she tried to keep still. She slid back out of the tube. The technician came back into the room from his little non-radiation cubicle, and helped her lean up.

“Hi.” She  looked at him, trying to make her eyes focus out of their slits. God you’re cute.  Dale hoped the tears would look normal, like her eyes watering or something.

 “So you’re back with us, huh?” She tried to nod. God that hurts.

 “Can I lay back down?”

 “Let’s get you to a bed first.” She wondered where the bed was. It’d have to be close. “It hurts to sit up?” Everything hurt. Even the little flashlight that was held up in front of her. She watched the lighted dot and remembered the vision test she had cheated on when she was eight. She was a hypochondriac as a child. When eventually Dale needed glasses, her mother wouldn’t believe her. She kept following the dot. She didn’t have the energy to be a hypochondriac.

 “So what did I do? I think I got the accident part. What’s the rest?”

 “You have a very hard head Ms. Spencer.”

 “Dale.”

 “Dale, you broke the windshield of your truck with it. The truly amazing thing is, there’s nothing wrong with you. Oh, a mild concussion.”

 “Hm.” Dale chuckled inwardly; smiling hurt. “Lucky. Except the headache.”

 “Well, the headache, the glass in your head and the bruises. All in all, extremely lucky.”

 “Sounds good. I’ll settle for bruises.” He shook his head in disbelief.

 “Your ambulance crew thought serious head trauma. Maybe brain damage. You were bleeding from your ears. Turned out some glass got in there. O.k.” He stood up. “We’ll wheel you back to the ER and give you a bed to lie on. The crew that brought you in is waiting for you. The doctor will come in and talk to you. Try not to fall asleep.” Dale started to say she was o.k., then realized she hadn’t moved even a centimeter since the painful nod. She tried to stand to get to the wheelchair a nurse had brought in. The technician caught her and eased her into it.This could’ve been romantic.

 “Thank you.”

 “Oh, anytime. You’re a lucky woman Dale.”

 “Yeah. Most of the time, I am.” Just  not this day, not this year. Oh my god, my Mom. The nurse came in to wheel me back through ER, past all the patients waiting for attention, and into a room at the very end across from the doors to the waiting room. Dave knelt down in front of her. 

 “So you’re o.k., huh? Wouldn’t know it to look at you.”

 “Thanks Dave. Hey thanks for waiting. Shouldn’t you be back in town?”

 “The next unit over is covering until we get back. We couldn’t just leave you here.” He looked away and down at the floor, avoiding her eyes.

 “Hey, I’m alright. Thank you.” He put his arm across her shoulders. 

 “Yeah, well, you had us scared is all. We had a hell of a time getting you here. The traffic wouldn’t give at all. Chris had to get out and make cars pull over.”

 “Did I say something about you guys driving the farm trucks for practice?”

 “Yeah, something to that effect.”

 “I’m sorry if I was rude.” Dave laughed quietly. “I’m glad it was you who came to get me. I think I remember calling for you or something.” He looked down at the floor and paused before saying anything.

 “Yeah. Kenny’s gonna drive you home. He heard it over the scanner and came to get you.”  He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. Dale couldn’t feel it through the swelling. He turned around again as he got to the door. He smiled and shook his head.

 “Hey Dave?”You’re really a good eggo, and I wish I could marry you. “Has anyone talked to my Mom?”

 “We told her to go on with things. We didn’t exactly tell her the truth. We played it down alittle, but we didn’t want to scare her. Figured we wouldn’t know ‘til the hospital told us what was really up anyway. She’ll be home tonight when all is said and done.” 

The nurse helped her onto the bed, and she waited for the doctor. My mother must be frantic. Of all the times this had to happen. It must have scared the piss out of her. Her chest felt heavy. Her throat  hurt from the lump that had been there for a week now. Dale wondered suddenly about her truck. She had been planning to drive it back across the country. She wondered what shape it was in, then pushed the thought out of her head, feeling guilty. She started to drift off into a dream about her daddy. The doctor came in and told her not to sleep until her usual bed time at night… she could go… sign some papers first. Then he brought her out to the waiting room. It was fuzzy, and she realized her eyes were almost swollen shut. Dale felt an arm around her, and then Ken’s voice.

 “Well, all set?” She signed some papers she assumed were insurance forms and they left, Ken holding her elbow. It took some time to get to the car. Her head started to pulse.

 “God, I ache everywhere.” 

 “Well, compared to what we all thought five hours ago… Jesus, Sunshine.” Her ears caught on the name Sunshine; it had been years since she’d heard it. “You’re lucky sweetie. We’re lucky.”

 “So I guess my truck…”

 “You don’t want to see it.” She sighed. Well, Fate knew what she was doing.

 “What happened anyway? I don’t remember much.”

 “A rig. Fortunately a state vehicle. You won’t have any problem collecting for your truck or your injuries. They won’t want a hassle.” Determined to ignore the fact that all she wanted to do was scream, she managed to keep talking.

 “It was the driver’s fault then?”

 “Yep. A few witnesses said he crossed into your lane.” Kenny grew quiet for a minute. “Y’know, the officer on the scene asked your name, and you said you were Katherine. He thinks you’re Katherine.” He kept silent as she absorbed the information, too exhausted to cry. Dale thought of Katherine, lying still in her hospital bed. Her family had been holding off the funeral as long as they could, hoping she’d be able to make it. Dale pictured her daddy. Lying in the casket Mrs. Taft had picked out for him. She could see the people there, mulling around silently. People she hadn’t seen in years. Some people that Daddy had delivered to on his route were coming all the way from Colorado to give their wishes to the family. Some people she never knew.   

A car passed and she slipped back into consciousness. She could feel Ken looking at her. He reached across the seat for her hand.

 “He must be new around here.”

 “Who?”

 “That cop. He must be new.” Her voice was quiet. She watched the blur go by out the window. She couldn’t see a thing. The throbbing in her head grew more pronounced.

 “You’ve been away four years now.”

 “Still. It’s a small town.”

 “We miss you here Sunny. You want me to turn the lights on or anything? You used to love that. Always used to make you laugh.” She tried to laugh alittle, for his sake, but it hurt.

 “No. I can’t laugh right now. Thank you though.”

 “You did something else during the accident.”

 “Oh really? It gets worse?”

 “Yup. You were rambling delirious when the ambulance got there. You told the whole crew about you and Dave.”

 “Oh my God. I didn’t.”

 “You did. If they weren’t so worried about you… Well, this might actually blow over. Even in this town.”

 “Oh, I don’t think they’re going to let me forget it. Whether or not the whole town finds out, that’s another story.”

 “I’m so glad you’re o.k. sweetie.” She turned her head toward him.

 “Don’t call me sweetie.” Ken laughed.

********

I am in the general store, making breakfast behind the diner counter. Dave comes in.  The day started badly, my ‘72 VW Rabbit finally leaving me stranded.  Dave saunters over to the counter, boyish, arrogant. 

“Hey babe.  Make me an egg sandwich?”  I whirl around and throw my spatula at him.  I ask him what my name is.  Like any manchild, he doesn’t comprehend. I ask him again. “Hey, Dale, I didn’t mean to… “  That’s right honey.  It’s Dale.  Not sugar, not sweetie, Dale.  Use it.  I told him to get his ass behind the counter to make his own fucking breakfast.

He did as he was told.  Later that day, just after the lunch rush, this guy, a campground tourist, is standing by the counter hassling me about having dinner with him.  Slicked back hair, big bad gold chains, the whole nine yards.  Dave comes in to get his meatball grinder with provolone, onions, olives and red pepper.  The slimy kind out of a jar, not the sprinkle-on variety.  The man continues his attack.

“Honey, I’d really like to take you out tonight.”  Dave walks over to where this man has been standing for ten minutes.  He looks at me for the go ahead.  I nod.  He asks  “Mr. Slick”  if he knows me.  The stranger says he was just trying to .  Dave replies that , well, he does know me.  And he’s the only man in town allowed to call me honey.  The man leaves.  Dave orders his usual without another word.  I  love him.  I have ever since.  All six feet of his scrawny ass self. He only ever called me Sunny or Dale. 

********

The bumps on a dirt road jolted her to reality. She put her hand to her face. The definition of her nose was gone. The flesh felt like fresh marshmallow. Her hairline was tangled and clotted with blood. Her fingertips ran over the bumps on her scalp where the glass had gone in, and she could barely see. I must look heinous. The car stopped and Ken turned of the engine. Dale sat still in the seat. 

 “Kenny?”

 “Hm?”

 “I need to see him. I mean I need to try.”

 “You look like hell.”

 “Daddy’s seen me look like hell before. It’s not like the chance will arise again. Is the wake over?”

 “No. Should be ending soon though.”

 “Good. Maybe by now it’ll be only family.”

She sat down in the back, her mother came to sit with her. People talked in low voices and she could hear them sniffling. They looked like large blurs milling about the room. They got smaller as they walked to the casket in the front, larger when they returned to their seats. The smaller blurs were, for once, still and quiet. Leaning against their Mommy blurs. She was removed from the crowd. Occassionally an old friend she hadn’t seen in years would sit with her, talk for a few minutes and wander off. Daddy T. wasn’t there, not physically. She was surprised to find she didn’t for one minute feel he was absent. She wasn’t sad for his death. She was upset for the people he’d left. Like Lucy and Kathy and Mrs. Taft. Dale had never in her life seen them apart. Unless he was at work. They had been married over thirty years. She wondered who Mrs Taft would become in the minds of so many who knew her only as a wife and a part of Daddy. She wondered how she would survive without him. Lucy sat down next to Dale. She leaned her head on Dale’s shoulder and picked up her hand.

 “I hate this. I don’t want to look at him anymore. I keep wanting to run home and sit on the big leather chair and put my head on his shoulder.”

 “I keep seeing your mom trying to decide what to do with that chair.” Lucy was shaking.

 “What will she do?” Tears rolled over her cheeks. “Should I come home? Half of me keeps expecting Mom to just stop breathing, and fade out. Is she going to be ok?”

 “I don’t know. Yes. You’ll have time to decide these things. It doesn’t have to be right now.” Dale thought of Daddy T., laid out in a suit somewhere in front of her. “God. It’s not him y’know? I’m not sad for him or because he’s gone. It’s strange, a part of me feels he’s more with us now than he was ever able to be before. He worked such long hours. I can’t talk to your mom. I don’t know how.” Lucy put her head on Dale’s shoulder.

 “I wish Kathy were here.” She said softly. The pallbearers gathered around the casket and a final prayer was spoken. He was lifted up and the room fell silent as everyone watched him carried out.

 “You look like hell by the way.” Lucy grinned up at Dale with her wet face.

The cold glass of the car window felt good against the lump where her temple was supposed to be. She tried to open her eyes and realized they were now completely swollen shut. The car stopped and the engine shut off. Ken got out and helped her to the door. Dale couldn’t wait to be inside. To lie down in the bedroom she’d had as a child.

 “You gonna be o.k. now?”

 “I’m o.k. People will be by, my mother’s here,” as if on cue, her mother opened the door, “Right now I want to lay down and have some tea.”

 “Dale, I’m sorry. About everything. I don’t know how you’ve lived the life you have.”

 “I’ve never done it alone, Ken. I love you too.”

For the only time in her life, her mother didn’t speak at all. She helped Dale to her room and went back to the kitchen. She listened as her mother put the kettle on.

********

I sit crouched in the corner, my head leaning back against the wall.  I can feel the grime in my hair, the dirt embedded under my skin.  I am beyond realizing what I smell like.  Damian’s words are carrying quietly through the stench, but I’m not listening to them.  I am listening instead to the timbre of his voice.  I remember how it feels to hear him with my ear pressed against his chest.  I wish I had known I would never hear that again.  

It is all over.  I know it now.  The battle is sated and overwhelming.  Every time I breath in, I mourn my own actions.  I realize the time has come when I must answer for all I have done.  I blink away the drops that collect on my eyelashes.  I haven’t asked myself whether or not it was all worth it.  There is nothing I can change now.  And I will continue on this way until my last.  

They pour into the room then as if they heard my thoughts.  Damian and I are unprepared.  They face me, not seeing him.  One is down before he has time to realize I have a gun.  The other falls on top of him, wet laundry.  I wonder who will clean up this mess. What janitors and receptionists do they have in this fucking war anyway?  The third stabs Damian twice before I see him, and I try to shoot him, but he looks at me.  His mistake.  I hesitate only to see Damian’s knife slide through his throat.  It seems to magnify in front of me.  The cut is clean, it doesn’t gush.  It wells up and pools behind the skin until it falls in a sheet; water down a wall.  His eyes glaze over in front of mine, his last vision is me.  Funny, we both think we are the one betrayed.  

Damian hands me his knife and I leave him, climbing out the window onto the fire escape, ducking through the water dripping off the steam pipes. I know without turning around that Damian has sunk into a ball on the floor. The fire escape is the only blind spot on the building that I know of. It is blocked from sight by the wall of an unfinished building. My body is raging.  That I am leaving Damian, that I am still playing in this ridiculous game.  There is nothing left but fury. It is surprisingly cold.  I climb the fire escape two floors.  I need to see the meeting room one more time.  Maybe there is one person left, one of us who is not dead.  I hope Damian goes quickly, I know that’s what I want.  I can only hope I have the choice when the time comes.  Then I realize that time has almost come.  I climb two more floors using the gutters.  I am surprised at my agility.  I was not a natural athlete as a child.  Then, I had never even held a gun until I was 28 either.  and I had always believed in peace.

I reach the window and wait outside, listening.  My spirits lift,  Maybe they had not found the meeting room.  But the fog they used to cloud the room wisps out over my head, and I can smell the gunfire.  I look in.  They had shot blindly, unloading ninety rounds a minute into walls, doors and flesh.  No doubt right through the window where I now stand.  The air is patched with dry gas and steam rising from blood that pools over the floor.  Hardly noticing what must have be there, I go into the meeting room; I am attracted by a strange light I cannot identify.  

And finally it sinks in the fight is over.  They have even found this, the heart of operations.  Where we spent time eating and praying and writing letters home.  The jars are all full, fermaldyhide no doubt.  They piled them on top of the desks and ledges and heating pipes, filling every corner.  Even the floor next to the boilers.  Filled with pieces and parts of those whose hands I once held (we shall overcome).  I walk through the stacks, unable to take my eyes away from those pieces, drained of blood.  I saw again his face, the blood spilling down his neck, his eyes glazing over, watching me.  I hope he knew it was only work.  I hope he could look at it that way, the way I hope my friends looked at it.  Before they wound up in jars.

I no longer care.  I no longer care.  My body is drained.  How would I have stayed out of this anyway?  There was no out.  Even if I knew then what I know now, hadn’t I always been a fighter?  You are dying because you were not meant to be a killer.  You were not created for hate.  I turn and head back for the window.  I move slowly, my energy gone.  In my mind I see one of their men, the one I bummed a cigarette from.  I sense vaguely they have set the building on fire.  I climb out on the fire escape and sit looking at the sky.  Why did you make me kill him?  I wish I could see the stars more clearly.  When did I learn to kill?  I will never see them again.  I think of the ways out.  I don’t know of any they don’t have covered.  I look down before I jump to the gutter, and fall short as I try to reach the half built wall next to me.  Look at what you’ve become.  I am slipping and I see Damian looking for me.  I wonder if I should let myself fall and end it now, while I have the choice.  Why did you make me do this?  I hear a gun and realize they have found me as well.  Why are you making me do this?  Why do you make me kill these people I love?

I am sitting upright in my bed looking wildly around me.  My body is rigid.  I unclench my hands and my fingers touch my face, running through my hair and over my scalp.  When I bring them down they are dripping.  I am surprised to find them clean.  I concentrate on slowing down my breath; willing my heart to stop racing.  I look around me.  I am in my new studio.  Empty bookshelf, piles of clothes hang out of suitcases.  Boxes, packed and unpacked, piled on top of each other.  The streetlight outside my window shuts off allowing morning orange to take over the fog.  I reach for my remote and turn on my stereo.  I close my eyes and  force myself calm.  I am safe, I am at home.  Everything is o.k.   I hug my pillow and lay down.

********

The taxi ride back to the apartment was a painful experience, as taxi rides can be. Dale supposed if she drove around all day, never seeing anyone for very long, that by the end of the day she would talk to every person who got into the car as well. She didn’t feel like talking. The swelling had been bad by itself, but in the plane? Christ. If she could have opened her mouth wide enough to scream, she might have actually tried it for the first time in her life. The cab pulled up to her storefront and the driver got out to help her to the door. No, thank you, she didn’t need any help on the stairs. But she realized she couldn’t find the door the door to her building. The cabbie took her keys and helped her in, all the way to her floor. She thanked him and handed what she thought was 60 bucks. “I’m trusting you completely. Is that $60?”

“The ride’s only $40.”

“That’s ok, you were called upon to be caregiver. Thanks so much.” She put her suitcase down in the doorway and shuffled into the living room to rest. She had just convinced herself she could make her head stop aching when she heard a noise in the hall.

“You always leave your apartment door open? Hey your bags are in the way.”

“Had I known you were coming…”

“Easy, sugar. I’m joking. Help me with this will you?”

“Can’t. Can’t see, can’t move. What is It anyway?”

“Crock pot full of chicken stew.”

“You walked a full crock pot all the fuck uphill for ten blocks?” She hated it when Pele did things like this. She still wasn’t sure about the repayment policy in their friendship. Dale heard the crock pot hit the counter. She moved the toaster over to plug it in. She opened the fridge and put something in, bottles perhaps.

“Anything for you babe. O.k. girlfriend,” Pele said, “Here I am. How are you?”

“Damn. Talk quieter will you? My head is pounding. I ache everywhere. I can’t tell whether my eyes are swollen from crying or from the windshield. The goddamn cabbie talked the whole time in the car, I had to fly…” Pele was at this point shuffling around in the bathroom cabinets. She stomped back, her heavy boots hitting the hardwood, chuckling to herself. Dale heard her own whining. “And I ain’t got no truck, and I ain’t got my dog, and I ain’t got a man.” She laughed alittle, it turned to crying suddenly. “And I just want a father.”

“I know you do, baby. I know.” Pele sat down on the couch and stroked Dale’s hair gently. 

“I took the liberty,” she continued, “of inviting Raskin over. Here, take these.” She handed Dale a painkiller, “He always managed to cheer you up, and frankly, I’d worry about you alone.”

“I can’t see any boys looking like this.”

“He’s not a boy, he’s Raskin, and he looks almost as much like death as you do. He’s been sick. We’ll lay about, listen to tunes, eat stew, and sit in the hot tub. How’s that sound?”

“Pele…,” the groan was half-hearted. She always gave in to Pele’s whims, and they both knew it. They had decided long ago that if neither of them had found a decent man by thirty, they were going to marry each other.

“Besides,” Pele said, “We have an appointment with the aardvark.”

“No, I cannot smoke with this headache.”

“Stuff and nonsense. Your as healthy as a sailor in port. Hee-hee.” Pele got up to add some more stuff to the stew. The buzzer rang. Two minutes later, Raskin was in the doorway.

“The man has arrived.”

“Oh goody,” Dale said from her post on the couch, “may we all rejoice.”

“I see her royal majesty has returned to court.” 

“Kneel, subject.” Raskin came over to the couch.

“My god. You look truly unfortunate.”

“Don’t I though? Colorful even.”

“You’re just in time Raskin,” Pele called over the kitchen counter, “stew is ready. Chicken with a bucket load of fresh garlic. Good for what ails you.”

“I’m glad none of us like each other. But hey, I’ve got some of Leif’s Leafy Love Leaves here. I think you both will enjoy. It’s good, clean and causes no headaches. Dale, I thought of you when I found this.”

“What are Leif’s Leafy Love Leaves anyway?”

“I wish I knew. It’s unlike anything previously smoked on earth. I’m never gonna be able to find it again.”

They ate stew and Raskin made some coffee. Pele read Dale her mail. A sympathy card from her friends in Ireland. They’d included a copy of their new album.

********

I pick up the phone.  

“Yeah?”

“Hey.  It’s Ahmi.  Um…”

“How was the show?”

“Oh, Halcyon was great, but..”

“Yes?”

“Well, the band needs a place to stay.”

“They can’t crash in Noho somewhere?”

“They’re from Ireland.”

“They came all the way from Ireland, and they have no place to stay?”  I look around my apartment.  It is completely trashed.

“Their tour manager got the dates wrong.  He was two days off.  Please?”  I drum my fingers over the desk and pick at a piece of tape stuck to the surface.

“How many?”

“Six.”

“Six men?  You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Please Dale?  Please?”

“Some are going to have to stay with you.  I mean get real.”

“O.k.  Some stay with me and Max, but we hang over at your place for awhile.”

“Look Dale”,  on the other end of the line Max grabs the phone from Ahmi, “you’ve got the biggest pad.  So don’t complain.  It only makes sense.”

“O.k.  But if I don’t like them, they’re not staying.”

“Oh please, Dale, get real!  Six musicians from Ireland, and you’re not going to like them?”

“I mean it.”

“O.k.”  Max hangs up.  I sit on the desk and look around.  It will take them all of ten minutes to get here.  I call Pele.  

“Baby, can you get down here?  There’s a party on its way over, and I’m in need of some cleaning, some beer and a fire in my fireplace.  Can you help?”

“I’m on my way down sugar.”

I pull out a trash bag and make a sweep through the rooms from corner to corner.  Ashtrays, papers, soda cans, a pizza box.  I pile all my laundry in the bathroom closet and close the door.  There is a bang on the door and muffled shouts.

“Out of my way.  I’ve got the firewood.”  Pele bursts in and piles wood on the wall next to the fireplace.  “Newspaper?” She squats down and pulls out some kindling.

“Recycling bin under my desk.”  I hang the coats on the back of the door.

“So who’s coming over?”

“Ahmi and Max, with that band they went to see.  Halcyon, I think it is.  I guess they need a place to stay.”

“Any hotties?”  Pele stops balling newspaper to grin over her shoulder.  I cringe but decide on the nonchalant reaction.

“I have no idea.  We’ll find out I guess.”

“How many?”

“Six.”

“All men?”  Pele giggles.  I deadpan my face.

“Yup.”

“Hah!  Those two have to stop listening to music.  I think it’s bad for their venereal health.”

“I don’t think that’s what’s going on.”

“Yet.”  Pele winks at me over her shoulder.

“No, Pele, N-O- No.  I am not after anyone,”

Pele breaks in, “Or with anyone.”

“Or with anyone, nor do I want anyone.”

I let the silence emphasize my statement.  Pele snorts.

“Uh huh.  C’moffit Dale.  You haven’t had sex in over a year y’know.  And you are entering the last few months of your college life.”

“I have to go get some beer.”  I turn away and crawl under the desk to get my boots.  “You are fortunate beer has enough relevance that I’m dropping this topic.  The car keys are in the upper right hand drawer.”  Pele nods her head toward the desk.  I pull a sweater off the door.

“Guinness?”

“And some Double Bock.  Got enough cash?”

“Credit, credit, credit.”

“Take the five in my pocket for my share.”

“Ok.  See you in a minute.”

“Do you want me to tidy your bedroom?”

“My bedroom?  Why would I be in my bedroom?”  

“Ten people, and you want us all to fit in the living room?”

“Yup, go to it.”  I swing open the door.  “Hey thanks Pele.”

“Yeah.  Whatever.”

********

The Halcyon CD switched off just as the door buzzer rang. Dale tried unsuccessfully to roll her eyes. 

“Great. Pele…Someone get that door.”

“No hurry. It’s just Nate.”

“Raskin, who is Nate, and why is he knocking on my door?”

“Chill babe. I told him he could.” Pele put her hand on my arm.

“You’re going to like him.”

“I can’t even see him for fuck’s sake. Hello? Does anyone else find it strange that I’m having a fucking party the day after my Daddy’s funeral?” In the silence that ensued she heard Pele open the door and a set of feet shuffle across the doormat. Raskin took her hand.

“It’s raining out. Man.” 

“Take off your boots, don’t be tracking mud across my floor.” Dale paused over the sound of his voice. Somewhere she had heard it before.

“Oh yeah. All that mud that I’ve picked up on those sidewalks.”

“You need a towel?” Pele retreated to the bathroom.

“You would not believe it out there. I stood on your doorstep for a minute, watching all the joes caught in the rain, trying to protect themselves with newspaper. Ha. I barely missed the downpour. Raskin! Dude, what’s up? Oh, there’s a show tomorrow night at the Art Explosion. I have a few pieces hanging.”

“I thought you were a bike messenger.” Dale knew she sounded irritated, but she didn’t feel like company. 

“It suppliments the artists’ addiction and schedule.” Pele’s feet stomped back into the living room.

“Here’s a towel. I’m Pele.”

“Nate. Nice to meet you.”

“I hope you didn’t use one of my good towels.”

“Well,” his feet moved into the living room, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you, Dale. Really, don’t sit up or anything.” He got his first look at Dale’s face. “Ooh, I’m sorry. What happened? Major fall?”

“Major crash. Killed my truck.”

“Sorry to hear that. I took a spill on my bicycle once that was unbelievable. The only one I’ve taken though.” He knocked his knuckles twice on the hardwood floor. “I got doored. Some idiot opened his door in the middle of an intersection at a red light. Hey, I brought some red wine. Anyone up for some?  Nothing like it for mood.”

“And hangovers.”  Dale cringed at the potential headache.

“Oh. You’re that kind.”

“What kind is that, specifically?”

“Oh, there are those who can drink red wine ‘til the cows come home and never feel the effects. Then there are the people who find themselves head in hands the next morning. No pets huh?”

“What?”

“You don’t have any pets?”

“No, not right now. I don’t have the energy.”

“Energy?  I think pets give energy. At least if you’re that type of gal.”  She hadn’t been called a gal in God knows how long. She sat up.

“O.k., look Nate. I don’t know if you’ve been filled in, but I’m not having a good day. I tend to be bitchy on my worse days.”  She talked over him when he mentioned that he noticed. “Furthermore, I am in my own house, and if you can’t get yourself a drink and shut up, then get the fuck out. That goes for all of you. I appreciate the concern, but at the moment, I’m not feeling too chipper.”  There was a long silence, within which she realized she felt tremendously better. “Could someone light me a joint?”

“No way, it does not.”

“It does, I’m telling you.”  The hot tub bubbled away underneath them. They had resorted to playing stupid dictionary games, and were working on the word phlegm. According to Webster’s Collegiate 1964, the fourth definition is “Solemn fortitude, see equanimity.”  They hadn’t gotten the laugh they’d expected but they were holding their stomachs none the less.

“Hoo-hoo-hee-hee.”  Pele was busting.

“God we’re horrible. What a night’s entertainment.”

“Tea and crumpets m’lady?”  Nate was asking.

“Well, we should’ve figured. Y’know. Phlegmatic.”

“Raskin, don’t spoil our blissful ignorance.” Dale was scolding.

“There was an air of phlegm about him…” Raskin began, “that the aliens smothered him in, before heading out to find his fertile daughter.”

“Surely you jest.”

“Jested the guest.”

“I guess that you jest.”

“Don’t be a pest.”

“A moment at best.”

“A moment at jest is a moment at best.”

“Hoo-hoo. Hee-hee.”

“I really gotta take a pee.”

“What’s with the hoo-hoo-hee stuff?”

“It’s a good way to laugh.”

“It’s annoying as hell,”  was Nate’s reply.

“No really. There’s a story behind this.”  Pele settled in to tell it. “One of my old housemates, Dale’s too, had this aunt who…”

“uncle”

“o.k. uncle, who was a pro skier. So he gets all fucked up one day…”

“…drops and drinks…”

“and tries to ski down this monster at Mad River Glen.”

“I thought he was at Berkshire East?”

“No. Mad River. Absolutely killer run. Trees on one side, rocks on the other. There’s this one place where it curves around and on a bad day you’ll end up kissing granite. Anyway, so his friends are on the lift and they spot him coming down. Not staying upright at all. Swerving. Leaning, missing trees by fucking iiiiiiinches dude! Fucked up Out..Of..His..Miiiinnnd. You see what I’m saying?” She had been leaning back and forth. Water splashed up Dale’s nose. “Finally, he loses all control and smacks into a huge brown maple.” She paused for the oohs and aahs. “So they finally get down to him, just after the medics, and they’re telling him he’s out of his fucking mind, and he says, ‘I know man, but the brown was attacking me. It kept getting bigger and it attacked me.”  Dale had heard this story on several occassions. It never got better with the telling. Though newcomers were usually relatively impressed with Pele’s flailing narrative style.

“Does this get to hoo-hoo-hee-hee?”  Oo, maybe not.

“Hold your pants on Nate, she’s getting there.” 

“So his friends all came to visit him in the hospital, and he’s decked out in a full body cast, face and all. Understand, this is the early eighties. We’re talking that heavy as hell plaster stuff, so this kid could not move…at ..all. Not.. one.. inch.” She emphasized inch by raising her voice and illustrating with her fingers. “AND they’re trying to cheer him up. But he can’t really laugh because they have his jaw wired shut, and it hurts like a bitch. The only sound he can get out of his mouth is hoo-hoo-hee-hee, hey, you try laughing as if your face is all plastered.” She waited until they all tried to laugh out of a tiny round hole in their faces. It wasn’t too difficult for Dale. “And the more you do that, the harder you’ll laugh. It works every time.” It started quietly. Raskin and Nate tried out the movements. They sat in the tub for another half hour. The hoo’s and hee’s that echoed off the tile walls got caught in the steam that lurked in the air. Dale really needed the giggle. No matter how much it hurt.

They moved their activities to the fireplace area, on a couple of sheepskin rugs. Lying down, all four, lazy from the tub, sides aching from laughter. Much to Dale’s chagrin, they had taken a group picture for posterity.

“You’ll look back and thank me for providing you with the comparison shot. Besides, don’t you want to know what we’re all madly signing to each other about you? You do look rather like Violet Beauregard.”

“Thanks Raskin. I’ll just be so pleased to show my face on the street. And I’m supposed to go make the record store, shmooz and party rounds.”

“I guess this’ll be my last night out for awhile. My daughter’s coming to stay with me.”  Nate spoke softly, but normally. As if every umarried, single, twenty five year old would have said this.

“Dude, you have a daughter?” Raskin was incredulous. “Shit, you never told me?  Do you see her?”

“Once in awhile. But she’s coming to stay in two days. So you had to know.” Dale thought of all the children she’d been a nanny for, during high school, and later, working for the theatre company.

“What’s her name?”

“Jodi. She’s named after her grandma. She’s living with her right now. My life’s gonna change a lot. No more nights like this.”

“Well, of course it is.” Dale broke in. “But you can still have nights like this. I mean think about it. We’re sitting in the living room, staring at the ceiling, talking. You can still do that with a child in the house. And it’s no sin for her to see you having wine.”

“And pot?”

“Hon, you learn to accomodate. So you don’t do it in front of her. But you’re still in your own home. You can always ask friends to babysit once in awhile too. Heck, you can bring her here. I love kids. I used to be a nanny, back in the day.”

“We’ll see. I haven’t seen her for a few months now. I’ll want some one-on-one. She’s a pretty cool dudette for a six year old.” Raskin had been silent the whole time, now they all fell in, dreaming about the future.

********

Not in this world, honey, not in this world. Demo tape number 16472, hit the round file. Such a waste. All these 90 minute Maxell’s, plastic cases and all, in the can. Damn. Dale hated this. The endless digging through crap that will never be anything. She tried to watch herself, tried not to get too cocky, but hey, it isn’t my fault I havn’t been wrong yet. The door buzzer rang. 

“Hey Dale? It’s Max. There’s a delivery for you.”

“I’m still in my undies. Can’t they leave it down there?”

“Says it’s gotta be face to face.”

“Name? Who’s it from?”

“He says he can’t say. But Dale?”

“What?”

“It’s alive.”

“O.k.”

She threw on a bathrobe and pulled at her three inch hair, amazed how long it had grown since she last shaved it. One day left and she was dreading going back to work. Her face had taken on this lovely shade of yellowish green, but her eyes were finally open. Shit, I havn’t even showered yet and some strange man is coming to my door. I must be out of my mind. Oh well.

A wiggly blur came running in below her as she opened the door. Nate stood there, in cut off shorts and a tee shirt, leaning against the door frame. He waited for a reaction. Dale looked back and forth, deciding who to deal with first, puppy or Nate. She chose puppy.

“What is that?” He was casing the joint. Sticking his little head under the couch and getting stuck for a moment, then loping toward the kitchen stopping in the doorway, inspecting.

“A puppy. That, is a nice, big, healthy mutt. Some guy wanted me to deliver him. Said you’d always wanted a dog.”

“He didn’t give you a name?”

“Nope. I think he had a huge crush on you or something. No, really. I got him thinking my daughter would really like him, but I’m thinking I better bite off one thing at a time. He’s a handful in and of himself.”

“So you want me to..?” The puppy swung his grey/brown body around to face the living room again. He spotted the open door to the closet. She sighed. She’d have to puppy proof the place.

“I want you to take him for me for awhile, if you could. I figured you had the…”

“The most space?” Dale sighed, hanging her head from her shoulders.

“Lots of people say that?” 

“It isn’t the first time. But usually it’s about a party. A place to gather. “Funny,” she smiled wryly at the thought, “seems that this is the first time donating my space required any participation from me.” Nate played with the strap of his bag. There was something else he was waiting for. 

She looked away from the dog toward the sarcasm in his voice. She made the decision in her head. Hell, she wanted him. She looked at him again.

“Did I ask to come in?”

“I heard you quite clearly.”

He pulled her to him and pushed her into the apartment with his body, closing the door behind him. He opens the bathrobe and drops to the floor in front of her. She opened her eyes only once, to see the puppy wrestling with her slipper.

They sat around the living room floor drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. Dale had managed to quit for awhile, but one more exception seemed warrented. Her bathrobe was back on. Nate was wearing a pair of flannel boxers. She didn’t bother being modest, and didn’t bother asking about the circumstances, how often he did this, if she was one tryst of many. She told herself she must be. And then, maybe this was an emotional thing. Caught up in the bundle of his daughter coming to live with him, adjustment phase. But it had been good, they’d been safe, and she did feel a lot less wound up. Christ. She took another drag and leaned her head against the couch. She felt him open the top of her bathrobe. She kept her eyes closed.

“You do have a delectable body.”

“Ten points for using a vocab word.”

The puppy was sleeping on the braided rug in the dining area. He was snoring alittle.

“What am I going to call him?”

“Beast.”

“Couldn’t. It doesn’t fit him.”

“It will. He’s going to be big.”

“True. I guess it will come to me. Are you hungry? I need a burrito.”

“Nope. I’ve gotta go. Just wanted to drop off the dog.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Another time?” He got dressed and gathered his helmet. He paused, deciding, and walked over for one more, very nice, kiss. “See ya.” She watched the tatoo on the back of his neck until it disappeared out the door. She started mentally beating herself immediately for having had random sex, and then squelched it. Your choice babe . She smiled it was even fun. The soon-to-be infamous dog licked at her toes.

“Who gave you to me huh? Who are you from?” He looked up at her, grinning in the way dogs can. “C’mon. We’d better get to know each other. Let’s have a chat.” With some effort, muscles complaining, she scooped him off the floor. She spotted the slipper under her stereo and picked it up. She put it in front of his nose. “You can have this. And the other one too. But,” she put him down and walked to the closet. “No, No.” He looked at her seriously for a moment and ran back to the half mauled slipper. He brought it back to her. “You’re not interested in my lectures are you?” He shook the slipper and it flopped about his head. She didn’t have any dog food. He’d have to have the leftover meat loaf until she got some. 

She fed the new acquiree and turned on the whirpool in the bathroom. She poured a gin and tonic and picked up Tales of the City. She red a few chapters and was interupted by the dog, who jumped up on the side of the bathtub. He wobbled a few moments before falling in. She threw down the book and pushed him out from underneath, setting him on the side behind the tub, where there was a ledge. He stood there shaking for a moment before the inevitable doggie shake. He looked pathetic. “Oh sweetie. Its o.k. It’s only a little water. Take a seat and relax, this is supposed to be fun. He tumbled down, and she went back to her book. When she looked up he was sound asleep, sprawled across the basic blue tiles under the heat lamp. What a day. She closed her eyes and put down the book. What a day.

********

Where am I?  Oh yea.  Movie theatre.  Whose hand is on my leg, ever so subtly working his way up my thigh?  Oh, yeah.  Taylor.  Alright.  Everything is o.k.  I would have been fine if I hadn’t gotten quite so stoned, but on the other hand, I might not have been able to handle this date.  If it is a date.  I really can’t tell yet.  It isn’t a movie I’ll remember, even if I was sober, so I suppose it really doesn’t matter.  Other than the fact Taylor’s hand is on my leg.  How do I feel about that?  More to the point, how does he feel about that?  Whatever.  Who cares.  It’s not like I don’t sleep with them.  These men with their hands on my thigh.  Gently, slowly making me more aware that I do tangibly, physically exist.  It isn’t just a dream.  Like the one I watched early this morning.  The one in which I was killing all these people.  

********

Dale spread the blanket over the sand and sat down leaning against a driftwood log. She pulled her sleeping bag up around her shoulders. The waves were angrier than usual, storming across the stage in front of her. The wind tossed sea spray across her face and played tangles into her hair. Drops of salt had already started to collect on her lashes and she lowered her eyelids to look through them. Some children laughed across her line of vision dragging a kite behind them. Their bathing suits were slightly too big for their skinny frames and she wondered at their endurance of the wind. She smelled weed from up the beach and found a group of teenagers circled around, passing a joint. She scrunched down further in the sleeping bag. She watched the mist roll between her and the blue sky. She closed her eyes and heard the chatter of birds and tourists. The waves held rythm as she drifted into the edgeland of dreaming.

This place was strange and new. For the first time she wasn’t unhappy at being alone. And she had found her first hideaway. Mo.B curled up next to her, tucked in the folds of the blanket. He’d tired himself out running around the car she borrowed from a friend. Dale guessed he’d never done the car ride thing before. He sighed and his little puppy paws twitched. 

 She awoke to Mo B.’s low growl and poked her face, nose first, out of the bag. Max stood there, blanket and book in hand. Shortlived lonliness. 

“Hey. There you are. I hope you don’t mind.” Mo fumbled his way to his feet, body shaking in recognition of a friend. 

“Nope. Not at all. What time is it? Feel like I’ve been asleep for awhile.”

“It’s around 3. How long have you been here?” Max paused as the wind teased her. She stuck out her bottom lip alittle. “It’s cold.” She spread out her blanket, sat on half of it, and wrapped the other half around herself. 

“I got here sometime around 11.”

Max held out a book. She obviously planned to do some reading herself, and didn’t want to be bothered. They let out Meat’s line and settled in to read. He was rolling in the sand. Enjoying the grit in his fur as Dale enjoyed the salt in her hair. 

“Can I pet your dog?” 

“Sure.” The tawny six year old had appeared in front of them, the way only six year olds can. The kid reminded Dale of Peter Pan. He had the surfer kid look. Skin that was both tanned and dark from the sand, brown eyes, and he probably had brown hair too. The sun had streaked it blonde. Mo B. liked her immediately. The two began playing, the kid would give his ear a soft tug and Mo tried to tag his hand. 

“You can take him for awhile if you want. Please don’t go too far though, if you can’t see me, that’s too far.”

“What’s his name?”

“Meatball. But I call him Mo B.” The kid lifted an eyebrow and gave Dale a grimace. He was pulling on his shorts and shaking sand out of his t-shirt. 

“Well, I haven’t come up with anything better yet, and for some strange reason… oh, go away. Take my mutt for a while.” Mo planted his butt in the sand and looked back at Dale. “Go on. Git.” He wheeled around and started running, pulling the kid behind him. Max chuckled. Then,

“Ick. Children.”

“You’re always saying that, but then you say you want a baby.”

“There is a vast difference between my child, singular, and other children at large, plural. All I want is one. One child, that I will name Sam either way.”

“Just like you, eh?” Max smiled.

“I was in line behind this really pregnant woman at the bank this morning… hmmm.” She looked out at the ocean, caught in an image of herself in young motherhood. She groaned suddenly. 

“What?” The kid picked up a stick and threw it down the beach. Mo B. watched it, ass-in-sand. He looked back at the kid. He hadn’t learned fetch yet. Bad male, Dale smiled to herself.

“I’m going to have to stop smoking pot for nine months.”

“You’re going to have to stop smoking altogether.”

“Oh, I don’t mind that. It’s ganja abstinence that bothers me.” The kid threw the driftwood again. Mo chased it this time and picked up the stick in his mouth, wrestling with it in his paws. The kid walked up to him and the puppy whirled and jumped away. 

“Anyway, I’m quitting smoking now that I’m out of school.” Max had just graduated a few months ago. 

“What are your plans now?”

“I don’t know. Find somewhere I’d like to settle in for awhile. The desert, or maybe Boulder.”

“I was thinking of moving again.” Max turned to look at her before the sentence was even over.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Dale, you just got here.”

“I don’t like it really.” She had the annoying realization she was talking out her ass.

“Paradox will not survive another move. You chose this area so carefully. Where will you go? Seattle, the music scene up there is played.”

“I know. Its just a passing wish. I hate feeling so unsettled.”

“What’s your problem? Why did you come out here to begin with?”

“I don’t want to deal with my father.”

“So why did you come out here?” As usual, Max got right to the point.

“To get as far away from the theatre as possible.” They both knew that was an excuse. Dale grinned lamely.

“And?”

“And to deal with my father. But now that he’s calling me to say hi, and telling me about his daily life, I just don’t want to be involved.”

“He’s your father no matter what. There’s nothing that’s going to change that.”

“But I don’t remember him.”

“He remembers you, and maybe he has something to say about it.”

“Maybe.” Dale looked down the beach again.

“Maybe you know that too.” She paused. “Does this have anything to do with your sister?” I was silent. “Do you not want to talk about this? We don’t have to talk about this.”

“No, I don’t. But you’re good for me. You don’t let me escape. I don’t even know what to call him. And I know I have to meet him face to face. I just don’t know how to handle it.”

“It’ll work itself out Dale.”

“I know.”

“Let’s read. Hey look at that kid.”

Her mutt was dropping a driftwood stick at the kid’s feet. He picked it up and threw it down the shore. Mo B ran after it.

“Well. Only ten minutes.”

“Smart dog”

“Good kid.” Max nodded. Dale looked over the horizon, the mist had cleared alittle. There was a freighter moving over the water in the far distance. Max got out her book.

“You’re reading that again?” Dale looked at the battered copy of “The Ladies of the Club”.

“Hey. It’s my favorite book.” They settled into the blankets. Dale closed her eyes and listened to the wind blowing the water up onto the shore. 

Some feet pounded close around the blanket, and Mo B dog licked her face.

“Great dog. Thanks.”

“Anytime” Max answered, “What’s your name?”

“Jodi.”

“I’m Max, and this anti-social lump is Dale. Meatball belongs to her.”

“See ya around.” With that he wandered away. It wasn’t long ‘til Dale couldn’t hear her footsteps. Meatball flopped down and pushed her over, demanding space again on the blanket.

“Hey- Spacehog.” Max reprimanded.

“Is it my fault this beast is getting so big?”

“No. It’s your fault he’s spoiled.” She put her arm around her mutt and scratched his belly. 

“Hey, did you bring any weed?”

“Of course.”

“Oh, good.”

“I’m going to keep reading though.” Max was so good at demanding what she needed, and Dale was glad of it.

“Good. I’m going to keep daydreaming.”

********

You took her.  For ten years all I knew of my real sister was a note.  Mama and I come home from the shop in the evening to find “Don’t look for me.  I’m gone.”  On the table.  I’m sure Mama still has that note.  It’s not the kind of thing a mother throws away.  I sit down at the kitchen table.  Mama is on the phone.  The neighbors and Grandma and the police.  She is crying and screaming.  There is no one home to take me out of the room.  I am confused, not recognizing the person I am watching; this woman who is supposed to be my mother.  Mama hangs up the phone for the last time and crouches on the floor underneath the phone.  She does not know yet that you are responsible.  The funny thing is that if she had ever asked, just said “Mom, I’m going to live with Dad”, Mama would never have said no.  She sits on the floor for a long time.  Just staring ahead, not saying anything.  The world has stopped completely.  There is nothing to do.

She was supposed to be in my life.  She was meant to belong to me, too.  Did we ever have a chance to play dress up?  Did I ever run through the woods trying to find her secret place?  Did we ever hide from Mama to have a smoke together?  Did we ever tell each other stories about skipping class or getting into college?  Did we ever have the chance to say “I love you” or scream “I hate you”?  I knew I was supposed to have a family.  I knew you had taken it from me.  You couldn’t have just taken yourself.  You’ll never know how much I hate you for that.

********

She packed up her record bag with some of the new presses she’d been passed from Amsterdam. They’d be a good welcome present to the record label folks in San Francisco. Something that would remind them of her whenever they looked at it. She rifled through the rest of her stacks, choosing a few more releases from India that Ahmi had picked up on her visit home. They would not already have these. She glanced again to make sure she brought the “House warming” party invites. Her palms were slightly sweaty, the cold sweat that comes from nerves tightly bound in the center of the gut. She took out the typed list in her pocket one more time. Six different shops, for the most part concentrated in two areas of the city. Fortunately with a direct bus line between them. She’d been putting this off for some time. Making the rounds of introductions. She knew that she had connections through connections out here, and she’d waited as long as she could to follow up on the entrees. She’d waited until she was used to the public transport system. She’d waited until she felt strong after losing her Daddy, she’d waited until she could go out in public and not feel like the martian she was positive she appeared to everyone.

She was overdressed, she knew, for the music scene here, but she wanted to seem older, put together, someone to look to for advice and knowledge. Not the novice she really was. Maybe she was too dressed? Maybe that would backfire, seem too L.A.? No, it was far too subtle an outfit to be L.A. Black velvet flared bottom pants, an India top, but much more finely tailored than the cheap prints found in the stores along the Lower Haight. And a black, buttery leather coat. It had taken two hours to actually choose a shirt. She had lost all sense of how to dress since she moved out here. She thought layering would come naturally to New Englanders. But this northern California layering was something else entirely. She knew she would be cold. She had been freezing for the last four months. Feeling like a fool, turning the heat on at fifty degrees, but back home she would have been wearing a thick sweater. In SF, that would look ridiculous, and be completely impractical. Walk into a sunlit room, or turn a corner onto a street with no wind, and she’d be completely boiling. And I thought New England was psychotic. Yeah, right. She put on her coat and looked at Mo. He was staring up at her, wiggling his ass via tail.

“No, you’re not coming with me this time.” He planted his butt down. His ears folded forward. She knelt down to him. “Look puppy love. This is an important trip. This is my business we’re talking about here. This is your bread and butter… Your kibbles and bits.” She laughed at her own joke. He whined alittle, knowing already she was walking out the door without him. He looked up at his leash hanging on the wall. He looked back up at her with adoring light brown puppy eyes and brushed his tail hesitantly back and forth along the floor. “No, puppy love.” She kissed him on the head, on the soft spot between his eyes. She stood up and straightened out her clothes. She took one last look in the entryway mirror. You’re off to make your entrance into the music scene. Splash splash. Just don’t don’t trip and fall into the ice bucket like last time. Ack.

She stood across from her building waiting for the bus. She rung her hands and fingered the Muni pass in her pocket for the fifth time. She looked at the shambled storefront and hoped no one would think Paradigm a losing outfit based on building. At least the inside was almost done. And it would be a really solid space for parties. Plenty of room, but not too much. The space would ensure invite only parties, without anyone accusing them of being elitist. There was only so much room. The wind was rifling through her hair and she forced herself not to be annoyed. You used to love the toussled look you fool, stop being so critical of yourself. shit.

********

“Hey, grab me another one too, would you?” Max was over at the fridge again, getting the third round of beers that morning. 

“Anyone else?”

“Me!” Ahmi’s shout from down the newly built hallway. She was standing amid load bearing beams and studs that would sometime down the road be the bathroom and bedroom. “Dee, are you sure you want this thing so big?”

“Yes!” My bathroom was to be almost as big as the bedroom. Warm, dark tones, but large. My only requirement.

“Well, come out and get it, then!” Max only went so far as a hostess. There was a clank of tools being thrown in a toolchest and Ahmi emerged from the new hallway, her steps echoing against the walls.

“Time for a smoke break anyway.” She stopped and looked around from the soon-to-be end of the hallway. “You know, a large india print is going to look really nice here.” I had already given up on the idea that this place would be based on solely my own design sense. Ahmi continued, “You know, I could call my aunt in India and ask her to pick up one of those thick ones with the small round mirrors woven in. It would look great stretched over a canvas.” I nodded and lowered the seat of my much worn levis onto the sawdust covered floor. 

“Well, I think I’ve prepped this as much as I can. Raskin will have to take a look at it.” Max flopped down on the floor in a squat. Her jeans were covered with white putty and sheetrock dust.

“I can’t believe he offered to do the masonry work for you.”

“I know. I’m going to have to figure out a way to pay him. I can’t believe I got a chimney and fireplace through zoning in this place. Let alone our other lofts.” 

“Shit we scored on this place. Big time.” There was a shuffling and banging outside the newly installed door, and the elevator gate opened with a clang. The door swung open, and Raskin’s back appeared, along with a large basket, table cloth sticking out, the foil on a bottle of champagne catching the sunlight that drifted in from the large glass panes behind them.

“Picnic, girls! Time to feast!”

“Oh my god, I’m so hungry.”

“I totally need to fill up, or this beer is going to get the best of me.” Ahmi giggled.

“Not to mention,” Raskin pulled out the bottle of champagne dramatically, “the bubbly!”

“We’re having a veritable celebration then?”  A huge grin came over my face as I watched the mad preparations. The blanket was thrown, the brie and bread hauled out. Max hauled out her swiss army knife, I fished mine out of my pocket and Ahmi brought the roll of paper towels from the back. Soon we were sitting under the dust filled air. Streams of sheetrock dust caught in shafts of evening light, bandanas tied on our heads, dirt under our nails, stuffing dolmas and philofel with hummus in our mouths.

“I didn’t realize I was this hungry”

“Neither did I.”

“Who’d a thought we’d be sitting here.” Raskin smiled down at the brie as he sliced it. Ahmi picked up a pear and examined it, placing it down and picking up another.

“I know I never did.”

“I dreamt it I think. But to really be doing this, it’s so…” For a moment, I was overwhelmed to realize I was in the middle of it.

“Awe inspiring?” Max completed my thought, while chewing on a slice of apple and brie, “Amazing? Empowering?”

“Fortunate?” Ahmi broke in. Max nodded and finished her swallow. At that moment we heard hollering on the street. We looked at each other, guaging whether we listened to party goers or trouble. SImulataneously, we moved to the windows and opened them wide. There was a group of ten or fifteen people emerging from the warehouse across the street. Half naked, no, a few all naked, they ran through our street dancing and singing, laughing at each other. We looked back at ourselves. 

“My god…”

“Holy shit!”

“Welcome to San Francisco!!” We let out whoops of glee, and cheered on the dancing bodies. They waved at us and laughed vaguely, immersed in their own dance, and they time they were having with each other. 

“Only in this city, man.” We fell back away from the windows toward our beer and food.

“You do realize,” Max began, “that we are living in the city everyone in this country wants to live in, in lofts that will look like what everyone else wishes they had, and at the risk of being overly sentimental, with friends that many could envy.”

Raskin popped open the champagne cork on cue. 

“To the very luckiest people. Thanks guys.”

And for the moment, it was quiet with only the low tones of our voices. Uninterupted by the sound of the circular saw, the hammering, the screw gun. For the moment we enjoyed the time we were spending. And it was a time.

********

“Let’s go. C’mon.” Max was standing in the door of her room. Dale was seated at her computer, typing away.

“What time is it?”

“Time for you to get your ass out of the house. That party is tonight, remember?” Dale leaned back in her chair and stretched her shoulders back. She had to get another desk setup. This hunched over to her computer on the top of a utility shelf shit was simply not going to cut it. She drank in the last of her beer.

“What party?” She slowly crawled out of her brain and back into reality. “Oh. The one Pele emailed me about?”

“That’s the one. Do you know what you’re going to wear yet?”

“I have that orange fleece vest. I think it looks pretty style-y with the brown sweater. I’ll wear my green space pants…” She yawned. “Will you make me some coffee while I throw on my face?” 

“I don’t know how to make coffee” Max: The only adult Dale knew who’d never had warm caffeine. Dale took her social temperature. She actually was in the mood for a bit of a party. This sounded interesting, good dj’s, though a bit like crashing on someone’s housewarming. But hey. You shouldn’t put it out there in email if you don’t want people to show. Max  moved about in the other room.

********

The train station was crowded, per usual on a saturday evening. People were milling about waiting. It could be twenty or thirty minutes they would all stand like this together. There was a man standing next to her, the daily paper folded in front of his eyes, his briefcase between his feet. A woman, crouched down against the wall to her left, read a book while she was leaning against the wall. “Outbound, two car,” intoned the loudspeaker, “K, M. followed by, one car, J two minutes.” She was waiting on the N train. Terminally the worst train in the system. She could spot the other N riders. They glanced up briefly at the overhead LCD screen. Some shook their heads. Everyone was used to it. A bum was sitting herself down on the round bench in the middle of the station. The people on either side of her turned slightly away; became more involved in their reading material. After all, it is San Francisco. Not polite to turn away so obviously. Dale wondered if she had been living in the projects the city had torn down just a few months before. She turned back to the platform. She always tucked herself on the end. 

She looked at the space on the end of the platform where she and some boy had made out during a drunken ride home. She made a mental note to herself to reserve the spot for this night. Just in case, and then felt sacreligous. Breaking the sanctity of the spot reserved only for that one night past. She coughed and crouched down, looking in her bag for her book. The bum on the bench was moving slowly, sliding almost imperceptibly back and forth. Dale tried to turn away but something held her gaze. Her clothes were exactly what you’d expect. Nondescript tan windbreaker with a hood. A body, buried under layers of tan and brown, not all the cloth identifiable as articles of clothing. The obligatory winter hat covered with the hood of an ever-dirtying overcoat. She stopped, transfixed by the vagrant’s lack of face. She had assumed, when she couldn’t distinguish a face at a glance, that this person was black. And now, looking more closely, forgetting about rules of propriety and turning away, she realized she could see no face at all. Now she tried, hard, to distinguish some feature under the dark hood that would indicate an actual person. But she saw no shred of light landing anywhere a face should have been. Her mind turned to Ralph Ellison as an N train pulled up to the platform. She forced herself to look away and gather her things. Max stood over her, her book open. “Ready?” Dale shook alittle as she tried to clear her mind of the image. She must have a face. Everyone has a face.  She stepped onto the train and took a seat facing backwards. She could still see the platform where the woman, for some reason she felt it was a woman, sat. The doors whistled as they shut and the train went into gear.

“Max, I just saw the most disturbing thing. I don’t know if I can explain it.”

********

On the corner of the main road was a fully packed bar called “The Stud”. It had recently adopted some deep house music on saturdays, which led to a strange brew of folks. The place was still flooded with the top heavy purposefully shorn gay men for whom the bar was originally opened. Now house mama’s in black pants and platform sandals were equally as likely to  be emerging from the cabs pulled up out front. Max and Dale passed by the outdoor smokers and headed down the alley next to the saturday night commotion. A graffitti artist had masterfully attacked the dead end wall of a building. 

“Someone’s been tagging around like that lately. I like them.” Dale admired the words. ‘I believe something good is about to happen.’ She wondered if the writing on the sides of New York buildings would ever carry that message. Max looked up and “hmm”d. The only open door led up a long flight of stairs and around a corner. They waited for a couple to emerge from the door. It was early yet for people to be parked at one party for the night.

“Well let’s check it out anyway. We can always come back.” Max took a last drag of her cigarette and threw it down purposefully before stepping into the doorway. The stairway turned out to be two flights. The halls indicating neither artistic warehouse community nor thrashed drunk house. At the very top was a door, opened slightly. The doorman immediately on the other side was a very, very large shaven man, reposing back against the ledge near the door.

“Welcome. $5 for any weed passed around, but you’ll have to bring your own drink if that’s what you’d like.” She and Max peered around the corner and into the main room. Deep funk house reverberated through the space. Not a very large crowd. Dale glanced at her watch and at Max. 

“Lets get wine and come back.” Max considered the option and turned to the doorman. Who was growing more striking with each second Dale stood next to him.

“Is there E here?”

“There are a few people who brought some, I could introduce you. Personally, I stay away from it.” He paused and looked at Dale while Max mulled over the feel of the crowd. Dale never usually went for the look of outright masculinity. Broad shoulders and hands; really tall. 

“Will you do some E with me?” Dale looked around at the collection of strangers and her stomach fell. “Please, Dale? You always said you would try it. I’ll take care of you. We can wait until there’s a few more people here if you want. You’ll really like it. And I’ll take care of you.”

“These are good folks. You’re completely welcome to make yourself to home.” Had he read her thoughts?

“Ok. Sounds good.” She smiled, to convince herself more than anyone else.

“Oh, you’ll be fine. C’mon.” They paid their five and wandered toward the middle of the space. 

I opened the door to Max’ room, or rather, her Royal Boudoir. She was, as usual, seated on her throne, book on lap, bong in hand. She looked up and bade me enter, motioning me to take a seat and make myself comfortable. She exhaled long and loud, enjoying her display. She passed to me.

“I need to tell you something.”  Max’ voice was quiet and firm. I looked at her from under my bangs. Her voice sounded even more calm than it normally did. I tensed.

“What’s up?”

“I’m going to get tested.”  I breathed out alittle. Not so bad really.

“I expect it to come back positive.” 

“Max, why do you think that?”  A flash of cold ran threw my body and settled in my chest. I was selfishly glad Max and I had no lovers in common. (A bit of an unusual feat in our circle of friends.)

“I have no right to be negative. Not with my history.”

“How many times were you unprotected?”  She looked away from me for a minute. Were her hands shaking?  She looked back up, her face unashamed.

“Too many. I mean, I have to be realistic. I’ve slept with too many people for me to avoid it. High risk people.”  Her voice was businesslike.

“Have any of your ex’s called you to tell you they’re positive?”  I held my breath. I knew she was right, about some of it.

“No. I just have to look at the facts. Every statistic in the book is against me. I just don’t know how I’ll tell my parents. I think I want to graduate first. At least they can have that.”

“Max, you don’t know yet.”

“I know. I’m telling you, I’m positive.”  I didn’t know how she could know, but then, maybe she had to psyche herself this way. 

“You’ll have to cross the bridges as they come up. There’s no way for you to know how you’re going to react to news like that.”

“I have to think about it. What if I have AIDS?”  her face scrunched up for a few seconds, and a tear welled up and ran over her cheek. Then she deadpanned again. “I can’t not know anymore. I have to know. It’s been eating at me.”  She wiped the tear line off her face.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“And what would you have said?”

“I don’t know… I wouldn’t have lectured you. I’m not going to now. There’s nothing that can change the past. God knows I can’t talk. Do you want me to get tested with you?”

“Would you go with me?”  I knew immediately I wouldn’t go through with it. But I was willing to let time change my mind.

“Yeah. I can’t promise. But I’ll think about it.”

********

-jonathan’s party

-bacchanal – telling jeff about jonathan – deciding to be monogamous for the first time.