Quay

Quay

That was the night… ack, ack, ack. I was driving down the road. Off work late, you see. And back to the house where surely you were asleep. Back up. Forgot to mention that Ted and I grabbed a couple of pints at the bar. Needed to settle down. Come home and be subtle. Make my way to bed and to you and wake up on the Thursday, day off, keep the kids company. Go to the park or something like that.
She was so pretty when she was young. Took great delight at the discovery of ice. How did we keep the freezer from her so long? She lived ice cream and seemed to have an inherent understanding of the substance. Ice, in and of itself, was a totally different beast. I made my way across town in my father’s pickup tat he had left me when he left for Mexico in ’97.
He speaks fluent Spanish now and struggles with certain parts of English. On the occasional phone calls it is as if daily certain words are leaving him. My grandmother had the same issue the three years preceding her death and we called it Alzheimer�s. Dad has just wound up in a new world full of tequila, late night discos of a different sort, and, I imagine, the occasional Mexican prostitute.
I was from across town, and the plant, coming home to you. Bacon I had bought at the supermarket hours earlier languished in the bed of the truck. But it’s bacon, I figured it would still make for a decent morning meal on the coming Saturday.
I think the problem ultimately is that this is not a mystery although it seems like one at this point. Or, it is a mystery, just not one that the average will discern as so. I made my way across town with bacon in tow. A little drunk if the truth be known. I know I am too old for this shit, or that shit, should know better etc. Two cars I came across along the way. Little Jenkins was out by the road already waiting for the mail to arrive, which was not a possibility at least for another 12 hours. He heartily gave a wave as I went by.
See I guess it is ultimately a shift issue. It is not that you sleep or that I sleep. Hell, we all need sleep. I know I have raised a ruckus over this shit lately. Keep me off the gin at least until the weather makes a turn.
Henry was in the yard barking and barking as I made the turn. He ran to the car and chased me that half-mile, lapping my heels as I exited the truck and up the steps, into the house, I let him in as well. I know you don’t like this shot, but it is a cold night, or was. I locked him in the mudroom so don’t be scared. He’s just a dog.
But here’s where everything got wonky. I watched the replay of the Orioles game on HTS, or at least the last three innings. The phone rang but I didn’t answer it. Julia came down stairs and I gave her orange juice and asked her how her day had been. She told me it had been fine and that she was sleepy and so she went back to bed. What am I missing?
Forty-five minutes later I came up the stairs and there you were sleeping. I laid down and had a time of it trying to get to sleep. I thought of the things I had overheard your mother saying about me on the phone two nights earlier. I thought of the way it had been two months since you had had a period. I thought even about my college friend Dan and how he was starting to make it in NYC.
Finally around 4 AM I started to dose. You rolled away from me and told me to hold you tight, and I did. Everything is going to be alright I thought and finally drifted out and away, and somewhere between then and morning a dream jumped from your head to my heart and when you awoke to go out this morning you shook me for morning kisses and we said not a thing until you made your final departure. A kiss on the cheek became a thesis. You turned as you after shower and makeup, deodorant, nasal tissue, and said, “Mama said, ‘ pessimism, boy, is for people who are well off.”