w i n t e r
glass starshade
The night is breaking up and if the boiler in the other room would still fire I could get rid of this mess, burn it all up. Instead, I'm sitting on a branch under a cracked glass roof in a greenhouse out by the Lindsey nursery. Vines tear at the soft and crumbling Chicago Firebrick walls and the rosebushes have scarred my arms and one cheek. A thick dogwood is growing right up through the middle of the floor, right through a pile of terra-cotta pots, right through the roof, and reaching for the stars above. I'm looking through its filigree and draining my mind.
A couple of hours ago I'd pulled up behind the dumpster and left the top down on the car. I had yet to meet her and I wanted a beer. I climbed the two flights of wrought iron stairs, turned once and looked down at the railroad tracks splitting Elm street in two. I could almost see all the way down to Tate. Almost. It seems to make little difference how clear the night is, I can never see all the way, but it doesn't stop me from looking just the same. Watching that one red light on a pole blink, on...off... on...off...
I went in. The place was crowded for a Monday even though I was there in the downtime.
"Black & Tan."
The waitress smiled at me. She usually does, but she's the only one. I was glad it was her and not one of the others who make me wait forever to get a drink and then frown if I don't tip well. I hate their doe-eyes. Or Raccoon eyes. That's more like it. In the dark they always look like Raccoons. But not her. She smiles and wears beautiful hairpins. Always two of them. And her eyes are never red from the smoke while mine itched already.
Despite the crowd the bar was almost empty. People lounged around on the sofas and wingbacks. They ate smoked salmon, leaving rings on the glass coffee tables as they choked down expensive cigars and waved around collins glasses full of ice and liquor.
"Thanks." The head on my beer ran down the side of the glass and I watched the Bass slowly climb up on the Guinness. She wasn't there. Not at the end of the bar. I was only five stools down. There was one couple holding hands and stirring a coffee drink and one older fellow was at the end of the bar. He had a gray head and receding hairline and bad teeth. I knew him. I figured I go say hello and wait for her, but things happened fast after that. I'd only just gotten up and taken two steps when I bumped into three women leaving. I spilled a little beer, raising my hand high like I'd just dropped something hot.
"Damn, sorry about that."
I reached behind the couple at the bar for a cocktail napkin and handed it to the woman. Her blouse was pretty wet down the left sleeve where I'd bumped into her. It looked silk, but hell, women's clothes seem to be made out of so many different kind of fabrics I don't know. One things for sure, I didn't expect the face that looked up at me, the face of Michelle. And from her startled look I knew she didn't expect to see me either. We fumbled over words, she waved her friends on and I pulled up a stool to her right as we sat down at the bar. She was still wiping her sleeve and I looked down at the corner of the bar one last time. Long enough to notice the ledger. A large leather and cloth bound ledger which I'd seen many times before. Second floor, used book store. Downtown, just on the other side of the tracks. Yeah, you had to sneak up to the top of the store, it was usually locked, but it was easy to slip the bolt and get upstairs to the good stuff. That's where I knew the guy from. Even though I only saw the ledger for a fraction of a second I knew what it was. But before I could even think about it Michelle had turned and asked me for a light.
"Hey, what's the matter, you spill half your beer on a girl and then ignore her? Hey."
"Sorry, I just...nevermind, here." I fished a light out of my pocket and lit us both a smoke.
We looked each other over briefly. Moments turned into minutes and I found myself thinking about the ledger, not really paying attention to what she was saying at all, just sort of nodding now and then. When I finished my second beer and it was obvious she wasn't going anywhere soon I suggested we leave. I mean, the women I was supposed to meet didn't show and I needed a drive, and I really didn't want to be alone.
Besides, Michelle and I went back a long way. There was a time, back in the early 90's, when she'd hold my head after a rough night. When she'd crawl into my bed after my roommate had retired. When we'd laugh together at the sick state of MTV and spend our money on Smiths re-releases and anything else on Rough Trade still around. Yeah, we we're close. I don't really know what happened to her. I remember she just wasn't there one day. Someone down on Tate had said she'd moved to Ohio and I guess that was good enough for me.
It only seemed natural to take her with me. I knew when I turned onto Friendly I was heading all the way. All the way out under the planes coming in on final approach. All the way out to the edge of the lights and then just a little beyond. I was going where the ledger came from. Where the ledger belonged. I was going to Lindsey.
I was going to the azalea forest.
goodnight 2.2.99