Everyone was there today. Even your brother flew in from Chicago. What a character! Right as your Mom was about to lose it, the doorbell rang and there he was -- standing in the threshold with a big bunch of flowers, grinning that grin and winking that wink. He was all dressed up in some whacky-ass Shakespearean outfit, with a wide-ruffled collar and a pair of pink-and-purple tights. Prancing through the foyer like some crazy court jester, he passed out the flowers and wished everyone a jolly "Bon Jour!" IFor the record: You're brother is a freakin' jerk. The whole way to Illinois, he sat there in the passenger seat, reading Aristophanes; and every time he'd flip the page, he'd casually mention "the incident." I told him repeatedly (and politely so!) that I didn't wanna talk about it, didn't wanna think about it. But the bastard kept bringing it up. When we finally reached his apartment, he grabbed his bag outta the back, shut the door and, through the open window, said thanks for the ride while scratching his nose with his middle finger. WHAT A FREAKIN' JERK! Cooper, however, was an absolute doll. Not only did she let me crash on her couch, she let me use the "sacred pillow." I don't care what anyone says: Cooper's still the best!I stopped in Davenport to fill up the tank and got some directions to this nice quiet spot on the bank of the Ole Mississipp. That Old Man River sure moves slow, rich and think and chocolate-blue. It's hot here, hon -- way over ninety -- and no one's around but a teenage couple on a blanket down by the water. The guy lies motionless, his head in his girlfriend's lap. As she strokes his long dark ponytail, they share a cigar- ette. Hey! Remember that first fateful day in L.A.? "Got another butt?" you asked, your eyes so bright and blue. Maybe one day that guy by the river will find himself alone, like me, watching another couple, wondering what to do. Who knows? That Old Man River keeps on rolling.After passing through Des Moines, I nearly got off the highway. I nearly turned south and headed for -- Are you ready to barf? -- Madison County! I know: I'm a geek. but I suddenly got this crazy urge to go and find that red covered bridge where Kincaid and Francesca were finally put to rest. I swear I almost did it! But then I started thinking how corny it would be, how utterly ridiculous, how it wouldn't be the same without you there to share the laugh. So I just kept driving. You know, Iowa's not so bad. It's not as boring as people say. The land rolls up and down like ocean waves, green with stalks of corn. It's impossible to sleep with the Interstate here, with the big trucks rolling by, rattling all the windows.I overslept like an idiot and didn't wake up till the maid barged in at half past ten. When I finally checked out, the old guy behind the front desk had one of those holes in his throat, one of those tracheotomy things -- so he could breathe. I tried like hell to ignore it, but the damn thing was right there, staring me in the face! When he spoke, he held a small voice amplifier up over the hole, making him sound like an old Darth Vader. And I got to wonder: Did you even see that movie? I couldn't remember, and I got so suddenly mad, so bitter, so irate, that I stormed right out of the motel lobby and went and sat in the car. So far, Nebraska sucks.When I reached the turnoff for Colorado, I almost turned south and headed for Denver to visit my old friend Amy. I knew you wouldn't like that, though, so I kept on Interstate 80. I'll get you to the Bay all right. Don't you worry, baby. You'd have done the same for me.We just had breakfast at the Denny's across from Motel 8. When the waiter came by, I ordered up two Grand Slams: mine with scrambled eggs; yours with eggs over medium, just the way you like 'em. You should've seen the look on the waiter's face as he walked away from the table. Later, when he brought the two Grand Slams, I put your food across the table and started eating mine. After a minute, I reached over and cut into your yolks: They were cooked solid. I looked around and, spotting the waiter, waved him back over. "I wanted these eggs over medium," I said. When he told me they were over medium, I took my fork and chopped them up: Not a drop of yolk ran over the plate. "I want them over medium," I insisted, my face scrunched up like a madman. Finally, he took away the plate and brought back another Slam -- this time with eggs over medium. Don't worry. When I finished eating, I left the guy a $5 tip. Just like you would've done.There I am, driving through some Rocky Mountain valley. To the south, the sky hung heavy grey and tiny bolts of random lightning struck the purple ridge. I decide to pull over, to park and get out. Then I walked way out to the middle of a meadow, a hundred yards from the car. All of a sudden, there's a mad crack of thunder, and a huge bolt of lightning -- lighthouse thick! -- zags down from the sky and strikes the Civic, snapping it up like a tiddlywink, flipping it up in the air. As it crashed back down, wheels-side-up, all the windows shattered! I ran like a maniac back toward the road, and twenty feet from the wreckage, I could feel the heat and smell the sizzling paint. Half an hour later, some State Troopers picked me up and drove me here to Evanston. Good thing I had you with me, baby, way out there in that meadow. I can still hear that crack of thunder. POW!Beside me on the bus, with her white-gloved hands folded neatly in her lap, sat Mrs Clara Calhoun -- a sweet old woman who called her purse a "pocketbook." With her white hair done up 40s-style, and her plain blue dress and thin white stockings, she looked like a wartime Coca-Cola ad. On the day her son was born, 1952, she got the army's telegram regretting her husband's "loss" in Korea. Now she's come to Salt Lake City to see her newborn granddaughter. After we spoke, she sat there in silence for quite some time, staring out the window at the gorgeous green mountains. When a single tear spilled down her cheek, she kept her head held high, and her white-gloved hands never once left her lap.Remember last year, we talked about taking the train across country? Good thing we never did. The train sucks. Of course, I could've paid for a sleeping compartment. But why blow an extra hundred bucks? As it is, I wound up sitting in coach all night, unable to sleep, my arm wrapped around you at my side. Oh, Pooh. I waited all night but the moon never rose, so there wasn't much to see but my own grim reflection on the inside glass. I look so much older now, so sad, so alone. I can't stop thinking of Clara Calhoun, of her dignified hands folded neatly in her lap. I wish I would've had the guts to take her hands in mine. It sounds silly, but: I wish it had been you, not me, who'd been sitting there beside her, and me nestled motionless between your legs.I'm am so buzzed! Here at the Comstock Hotel, HUGE! gotta room w/ a view. 7th Floor. #721. Lucky number, no? Down at casino, went to play craps, put a dollar on the line, threw the dice. Seven! Seven! Seven! Ten straight passes & we're up 10K. Next roll -- Double 4s!!! Hard Eight!!! Evrybody screams! Table goes wild! Cashed out over $30,000!!My head feels like a spinning bowl of smashed potatoes. I'm sitting here in some dinky coffee shop an hour west of Reno. I just can't drive anymore. It's the glare, burning my eyes like hot iron rods. Oh: By the way: I bought a car. I woke up around noon, got a cab, and took it up to the Reno Jeep dealer. The salesgirl was really nice -- you would've liked her -- so I drove off the lot with a brand new, fully loaded steel-blue Cherokee. All for an even 30K. Cash. Now it's half past three and I'm sitting in this coffee shop, squinting out the windows at the High Sierra, nursing yet another coffee, hoping to shake these cobwebs loose from back behind my eyes. Three more hours. Three more lousy stinking hours.I can see it from here. From across the Bay. Through Sissy's big front window. I stood there for the longest time, just staring out, watching the daylight change, watching it fade from orange to grey. Now that it's dark, the city's all lit up, twinkling like diamond-crusted bon-bon. Oh, Pooh. What am I supposed to do? Remember that day last summer at the Arb? Remember those buzzing mosquitoes? There must've been a billion! buzzing all around us. I wanted so bad for that day to end. But now, if I could, I'd grab that day and live it again, over and over, a hundred million times. To hell with all those buzzing mosquitoes! Just gimme back that day...The morning was electric, the sky crisp and blue, not a wisp of cloud. Already, even at eight, hundreds of tourists had swarmed the bridge. I walked way out, out past the southern tower. With no one watching, I tugged on the string till the knot slipped open; then I reached inside and opened up the plastic bag. It was the first time I touched you in over a week. Down below, over the edge, the water chopped blue and a breeze blew up and swirled all around me. I said, "I love you, baby," and then I shook you loose. It was beautiful. You caught the breeze like a flock of gulls and scattered to the sea like a billion flecks of pepper.
| ||||
| ||||||
| ||||
| ||||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
| ||||
