the espresso cup and its saucer are making a rather conspicuous rattling noise in my shaking hand, and when i set the espresso down at table 33, some of the liquid has sloshed over the side of the cup. “maybe you’ve had one too many espressos,” he jokes. no.
Monthly Archive for March, 2002
tonight, after we watched zoolander, after we talked about the villain in rainbow brite, after we evaluated kari’s brother’s list of his thirty favorite movies, after charlie wondered what eighties television show he was thinking of, after jonathan predicted a max headroom comeback, after rob and i sang the theme song for “wkrp in cincinnati“, i looked around at us and thought: it’s not that we’re close friends, it’s not that we know each other well, it’s just that we’ve all been brainwashed by the same media.
i wake up every morning with some unearthly kind of shakes. i have to get up slowly, my hand on the bed for support, making sure i have my balance. i hold on to the dresser as i make my way to the bathroom, trying to get my eyes to focus properly. they don’t, though, not for a few more hours, so the monitor pulses hard, and i type with trembling fingers.
happy birthday, henry.
i wanted to tell you about what i did last night and this morning and today, but i think those things are mine for now. instead, when i was leaving the parking lot of the doctor’s office this afternoon, a man walked in front of my car just before i pulled out into the street. he waved his hands at me and came over to the driver’s side window. not really thinking about the fact that he couldn’t possibly need me for any good reason, i stopped the car and rolled down the window a little. “yes?” i said.
”i’m sorry, i know i’m black,” he panted, leaning towards me and squinting through brown-framed sunglasses. “but i have a wife and she’s over there and she has cancer and we have a baby.” he flapped his hand absentmindedly, gesturing somewhere to his right. “i have a hundred and forty-four dollars and…” just then he stopped and grabbed at the top of my cracked car window, his fingers curling inside the car, inches from my face. i think he wanted to keep me from leaving.
my hand moved in the direction of the door lock, but i decided against pushing the button, as i wasn’t sure how he would react if he saw that i was locking the doors. since the doors were unlocked and he was reaching in through the window, i wasn’t about to turn away from him in search of my wallet. “i’m sorry,” i said, “i don’t have any cash.”
”please, ma’am!” he leaned closer, his eyes wide, his grip tightening on the window. “all i need is three stupid dollars!”
”i’m sorry,” i said, inching the car forward. “i really don’t have anything.” i moved forward a little bit more. he let go of the car and i drove away, shaking slightly.
james.
