What is your favorite Spring beer?

Saturday, February 25, 2006

How Am I Different? Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It’s love that’s hiding deep down inside us all

so maybe we should let it bubble up

from deep inside us all - - Dave Matthews

The days rolled on and Abe would like to have said he did important noteworthy things but that was not the case. He wrote as usual into the nights and wandered the streets or listened to records during the day. It was getting colder; almost November then with all its grey skies and bare trees as foreshadows of paler days ahead. He decided to call Johanna Wednesday because he figured the only time she could get out would be on a weekend.

AHi. Remember me?@

AOf course. I thought you=d call sooner.@

AWell, you know. I get so caught up in the hustle and bustle and all.@

AMmhh. I don=t want to take up all your free time, then. Did you have something to ask me?@ Abe could almost see the smirk through the phone which she was indeed wearing at the other end of the line.


AAs a matter of fact I did. I was wondering if you=d like to go out this weekend. Friday or Saturday, it doesn’t=t matter to me.@

AI was hoping that would be the question. The answer is yes. Why did you wait so long?@

ADidn’t want to seem over-eager I guess. You could have called me.@

AThat=s not how it=s supposed to go. You=re supposed to call me.@

AWhat, are we in junior high now? There=s always Sadie Hawkins.@

AYou=re right. I suppose if everything goes well I could call you the next time around.@

AI=d like that. How have you been?@

AGood. We=re almost through >A Separate Peace=. Any suggestions for further reading?@

AAbout a hundred, but they=re either inappropriate or over their heads. I=ll think on it. Any other news?@

AMy goldfish died.@

AGoldie?@ Johanna affirmed. AAww. I=m sorry. I felt as though I knew him. Hopefully he had enough insurance to cover the funeral.@ Johanna laughed.

AThat=s very sensitive. Remind me never to invite you to an actual person=s funeral.@

AI can=t say that I=d have too good a time at one anyways so I=ll let it go.@

AThis... You...@ She was trying to speak through muffled laughter. AYou=re abominable.@

AThank you. Not every day someone spends five syllables just on calling me a name.@

ADo you have a comeback for everything?@

AI have to say I do. I=m a writer. That=s my job.@

AThen how=s your comeback for this? I want to see you. Right now.@

AThen I=d have to ask one thing. Your place or mine?@

AYours. I=ve been in mine all night.@


AThat=s an empathetic girl. I=ll see you in a bit then?@

AAs fast as my little legs will carry me.@

They hung up and Abe waited. While he waited he blazed through the apartment and made sure he didn’t=t look like too much of a bachelor. By the time there was a knock at the door he was reasonably satisfied with the place.

AHello.@ Johanna greeted him. She was wearing a pale green silk scarf in her hair that nudged her grey-green eyes a bit closer to its color. ACan I come in?@ He realized he was staring at her in the doorway.

AYeah, yeah. Sorry.@

ANo witty remark?@

AWell, you=re much harder to talk to in person, since you can see me and all.@ She smiled slyly.

ASo you=re more of a Sarono?”

AOf sorts. Only when I=m trying to be clever, though.@

AThen stop it. I want to talk to you, not a bank of stored up one-liners.@

AFair enough. You=re...You=re something too, you know. I didn=t expect you to be so intelligent.@

AWhat the hell is that supposed to mean?@ Johanna looked indignant but willing to hear a reason.

AYou told me to be honest. That was my honest feeling. I didn=t expect you, or anyone for that matter, to be so clairvoyant. I=m glad you are though. I don=t think I=d be nearly as interested in you if you weren’t.@ She looked perplexed. AIt=s supposed to be a compliment.@ Johanna’s look did not change. AYou see, this is what happens when I have to be candid instead of witty.@ She nodded.

AOkay. I=ll take it as it was meant. And I much prefer candid to witty, for the record. Can we sit down now?@ Abe realized that after letting her in they had neglected to move from the entryway.

AYeah. Would you like something to drink?@


AIf you have any of those Labatt=s left that would be nice.@ He did and quickly grabbed a pair from the kitchen. AI read you first book.@ He raised his eyebrows. AI could tell the difference between the first and the latest. Which is good.@

AThanks. I=m glad I think you liked it.@

AI liked it.@

AI=m really glad you came over. This is nice.@

AEventually you=re going to have to tell me if I=m infringing on your work time.@ He nodded.

AMaybe when we get old and bored. Until then I=ll be happy to see you.@ Johanna blushed faintly before trying to hide it with a smile. AYou have school tomorrow, right?@

AMmhh Hhmm. Have to be there at seven-thirty. I can=t stay long. Just wanted something different to do.@

AIf I=m a change of pace then you need to find yourself a hobby.@

ACome on now. Hey. What would you think about going to a play on Saturday night?@

ACulture? I don=t know about that. It might hurt my superficial book writing state of mind.@

AI wouldn’t worry too much. And you=re starting into your lines again, for the record. You don’t need to. It=s a high school rendition of Death of a Salesman. A lot of the English-prone kids are involved in the drama club and they asked me to go see it. I didn’t want to be so pathetic as to attend a high school play by myself on a Friday night.@

ASo you thought you=d bring an even bigger sap along with you, eh? Well, Yeah. I=ll go. Because of you. Not because I like Death of a Salesman. I do. Which is precisely the reason I have a squeamish feeling about seeing a bunch of fifteen year olds butchering it.@

ARemind me to never let you get a teaching certificate.@

AAgain, something that would slowly kill me. But I definitely see the need for them. So I have to respect you for that.@

“I=ll take that as a compliment, which by the way, you need to work on. And thank you for being my date. We can do something fun afterwards if you want.@


AI have half a mind to have some fun beforehand. Might make the play seem smoother.@

AYeah, right. But I have to be a responsible, supportive teacher. So if you want to have fun afterwards...@ She narrowed her eyes with a coy smile, Ayou=d better behave during.@

AYes ma=am.@ He gave her a submissive look like a third-grader caught with a slingshot until he couldn’t hold the feigned remorse any more. AI=m sorry. You=re just a lot harder to fool in person.@

AI should hope so. I have kids trying to pull stuff with me all day long. You=ll have to be pretty subtle to trick me. I should also hope you would realize you don=t have to try.@

AA Master=s in English and I=m no better than a teenager. Guess I paid too much for that one.@

AI forgot you have a Master=s.@ Abe had not meant to impress Johanna; it had just been a passing comment.

AYeah. It=s not that hard, really. It was more to escape getting a real job for another couple of years.@

AWhich you still haven=t gotten around to,@ Johanna teased. ANo, actually, I=ve been thinking about getting one myself. It would mean another third of my pay.@

AOh, you definitely should, then. It=s really not that hard. Especially if you know what you=re doing.@

AI couldn’t=t just take a sabbatical, though. It would take me at least two and a half years.@

AThere=s where your novel comes in. Whip one out and that=ll pay for the degree.@ She rolled her eyes. They bantered on for another hour or so before Johanna started looking at her watch.

AI=d better go. I had fun, though. And I=ll see you Friday?@

AYes. Do you want to get dinner first?@ She thought about it quickly and nodded.

AOk. That would be nice. Like a real date.@

AI=ll bring you a corsage.@ She rolled her eyes as she stood up. ASorry. I just start spouting off when I get nervous.@


She smiled. AYou blend pick up moves and honesty quite curiously.@

AThen maybe I should just shut up.@

AI can see where your stories are born anyways.@ She pulled her coat on and they stood in the living room. AI have to go. I really wish I didn’t=t, but...@

AA wish and a nickel will get you a stick of gum.@ Abe shrugged as to confirm it. Johanna nodded. She leaned up to him on her way out the door and brushed his lips with hers the way Abe imagined Europeans said goodbye. They gave one another a smile and she walked out the door.

Friday came and Abe picked Johanna up from her apartment, which was a nice looking place on the west end of town, and headed to a swanky restaurant near her school.

AYou look wonderful,@ he commented as soon as she had opened the door. And she did. She was wearing a black skirt with a ruffled maroon top and a wispy scarf to match the pants. There was a thin silk maroon scarf in her blonde hair.

AThank you. You don=t look bad yourself all dressed up.@ He was wearing a simple blue shirt and black Dockers. Abe didn’t=t tell Johanna that aside from two other ill-fitting dress shirts it was all he owned in the way of formal attire. It was an odd feeling, being dressed up, especially since he knew it was solely for Johanna=s benefit.

Abe would come to count the date as an overall success. They chatted over wine and pasta at a cozy little restaurant before immersing themselves in the world of Arthur Miller as presented by the Roosevelt High school Drama Club. It was actually better that what Abe had prepared himself for.

AWell. That was all right.@ Abe finally said as they walked to his car arm in arm.

AI=m glad you liked it. Now I know who to call for Carmen next semester.@


ANo, no, no. I have a great time with you and all, but amateur musicals is where I=m going to have to draw the line.@ Johanna snickered.

AI=m joking. I wouldn’t=t put anyone through that. It=s good to know the shallow depths you=re willing to swim in to please me, though.@

AHey. I have standards. And we=re not there yet.@

ATo the doing anything for me phase? That=s the first phase, you doofus. How do you think you=re supposed to reel a girl in, anyways?@

ADoofus?@

AWhy do I even bother?@

AI don=t know.@ They ducked into the car and headed to Abe=s apartment. ADo you really want to sit in my living room right now?@ He asked suddenly.

AWhy? Do you?@

AI want to get ice cream and walk around downtown.@

AOk.@ There wasn=t even a stutter of hesitation in Johanna=s voice. Abe nodded while looking ahead at the road and turned away from the exit leading to his neighborhood in favor of a more historic and regal looking section a few miles away.

The place they ended up was a street lined with similar looking rounded brick buildings and open air alleyways housing every kind of shop and boutique and restaurant someone could think to have in a shopping district. There was a damp softness cast on the view from frosted street lamps; as if visitors had just missed the rain shower.

AEverything=s dark.@ Johanna noticed upon stepping out of the car. AIs anything open?@

ANot much. But it=s really peaceful at this time of night. I come here sometimes when I can=t write. The window shopping is a great way to spend an unproductive evening. You’re actually the first person I’ve ever taken with me.@ Johanna saw what Abe meant as they passed the first few backlit displays for a music store, a candy shop, and a vintage clothing boutique.


AWow.@ They soon came to the coffee and sweets shop Abe knew would be open. It was about the only light in any of the buildings beckoning people who may not normally stop to see what the reason was. Abe knew.

AHello, Linda.@ The proprietor was a middle-aged hippy cheerily flitting from espresso machines to ice cream freezers and ovens.

AAbraham! How are things?@

AWonderful. We took in a play and thought we=d walk around a bit.@

AWriter=s block.@ She said it as a fact they both knew.

AYes. Her name is Johanna.@ Johanna blushed deeply.

AWonderful!@ Linda shook her hand warmly. AWhat=ll we have today?@

AWell, I don=t know. What do you think?@

AI think you two should have a sundae. Coffees to go?@ He nodded. Johanna smiled accommodatingly and tried to keep up. Linda busied herself preparing the dish and Johanna gave Abe an amused and quizzical look. He shrugged with a grin.

There were a half dozen people scattered at the few tables in the place but the room=s size made those few seem like plenty but no one occupying the love seat along the back wall Abe liked to use. The walls surrounding the couch were full of black and white photographs of Jerry Garcia, John Lennon, Joni Mitchell, and others who all seemed to beam down on whoever was sitting beneath them.

Abe and Johanna sat snuggly together with the sundae between them on a remarkably plain coffee table. Their cups were steaming cool on either side as they daintily spooned ice cream out of the glass dish. Johanna had barely gotten the first bite into her mouth when she started laughing. She had to concentrate on swallowing before she could answer Abe=s furrowed eyebrows and wondering grin.

AI=m sorry. I mean, I=m a girl and I like romance and all, but this is so cheesy! It=s just wonderful.@

AThank you. I thought I would have to fake my way through all this. I really do come here, though. And it=s nice.@


ANo, no. This is great. Cheesiness is great. I just never expected it. Sharing a sundae in an ice cream shop.@ She started giggling again. Once she settled down she cocked her head and decided to kiss him. It was subtle and sweet, nothing like the aura vuoix kiss she had given him the night before. AHmm Hmm.@ Her giggles almost started again but she managed to stifle them. They continued eating until in a last bravado of cliche Abe nudged the lone cherry in the dish over to Johanna. She plucked it from the stem with her teeth and an endearing smile.

With tolerable coffees in hand they lighted into the street. Johanna slid a very unobtrusive pinky finger alongside Abe=s and left it at that as they walked past the shops.

AOh, I=d love to come here in the day time. It must be nice.@

AI=ve never been.@

AReally? Why?@

ASomething about this scene. I don=t want to see it any other way. This is what it is to me. My >Café Terrace at Night.= It=s perfect.@

AAww. You=re such a romantic.@

AI guess. I wouldn’t=t be a very good fiction writer if I weren’t=t.@

AAww. I think it=s more than that.@

AOh, you know me that well?@

AI=m getting there.@ Abe didn’t=t say anything more about it.

They walked up one side of the street and down the other slowly, looking in windows and sipping coffee. Other than a few teenagers trying to rebel against their posh backgrounds they were alone to wander as they pleased.

Eventually the parking lot Abe=s car was in came into view.

AWell?@

AThat was sweet, Abe. Thanks. I=m... um... I=m going to go home, because...I should. You understand?@

AI think I do. No need to smudge the painting.@ Johanna nodded. They drove to her apartment quietly; each with their own thoughts.


They arrived in front of her place too quickly. AOk. I=ll call you?@ Abe nodded in reply. AMaybe we can get lunch this week.@

AThat would be great.@

AGoodnight.@ She leaned over and kissed him a bit more affectionately than she had in the ice cream shop.

AGoodnight.@ He didn=t get out of the car because it didn’t=t feel like the right thing to do but watched her until she disappeared behind the thick oak doors leading into the building.


Sunday, February 19, 2006

Chapter 2

What’s life without

an occasional surprise?

- - Counting Crows


Friday. Day three of being thirty. Didn’t feel any different. Wasn=t any different. Only in his mind. And that was only because Abe told himself it was supposed to be different because that=s how everyone felt. Bullocks. He skipped the library that morning because it would have only depressed him to think about not doing a productive thing all day the evening prior and went to the record shop. No emotional baggage there. Unless you counted the Wilco albums, a band his last girlfriend had listened to constantly (and truthfully, he had gotten to like as well) or Elliot Smith, from the girl before last, or Jeff Buckley, from the one years ago he truly felt >got away=. Anyways, it was better than reminding himself of his melancholy attitude toward his job.

Unlike the bookstore, Abe always bought something at the record store. For instance that day there was a new Belle and Sebastian album he picked up from the get-go before he even started flitting through racks of jewel cases. Elliot eventually got up from behind the counter to say hello. He owned the place and worked there every hour it was open with the help of two part-time record junkies. It was such a rip-off of a Nick Hornby novel Abe liked that it almost made him laugh; except this guy lived in the back room of the store. He didn’t make much money but did it because it was all he could do. It wasn=t that he lacked intelligence; it was more like the way triathletes or farmers wouldn’t consider doing anything else. Elliot sold records. That=s just what he did. And he knew his shit.


AHey. New Belle and Sebastian. Eh.@ He also gave his honest opinion. Just because a record was good didn=t mean he liked it. Maybe that was why he was broke. AHere. Try the Potatomen. Four dollar EP. Won=t break you. Kind of like Elvis Costello meets the Ramones. Good stuff.@ Abe took it because even if he didn=t like the stuff it would at least interest him.

AHow=s things, Elliot?@ He shrugged.

ABuying more than I=m selling. Never sell a damn copy of your book.@

AThat=s because this is a record store. And those are part of the complimentary copies I get so they don=t cost you a thing. Unless you want the space for more Black Flag patches.@

ADamn. You=ve got a tick in your ass, don=t you?@

AAhh,@ Abe shrugged, AI turned thirty a couple of days ago.@

AHaven=t you got better things to be depressed about than that?@

AThanks, no. That=s the thing. I feel odder because I don=t feel this somber, life changing epiphany like everybody says they feel at this age. Am I missing something?@

AWell, take it from a thirty-two year old. It=s bullocks. Bills don=t stop coming. Parents don=t stop treating you like a charity case. Girls...Well...that doesn’t=t change, whatever your sex life happened to be. Anybody that worries about that shit is destined to die sad anyways.@ Elliot clapped Abe on the back. AHey. Happy birthday. There=s my present.@ He nodded to the two discs in Abe=s hand.

ANo, come on. I can=t take cd=s from you. That=s one less beer to end the day, you know?@

ARight. Remind me to never let you speak at my funeral.@ Elliot sighed and lifted himself by the elbows into a straighter stance behind the counter to ring up the sale. AHave it your way. You can buy the Belle and Sebastian because I=ll never sell those anyways. David=s pick.@ He raised his eyebrows to the ceiling. David was a rather eccentric piano player who lived on the second floor of the record shop and hung out with Elliot frequently. ABut keep the other. You=ll buy more by them, I think.@

AHey, have you got a sharpie?@ Abe suddenly asked, having had an idea.


AYeah, sure.@ Elliot found one and handed it over. Abe quickly grabbed the stack of books Elliot had displayed on the counter and autographed them.

AThere. That might help. Can=t hurt. Make a sign or something.@ Elliot grinned at the effort.

ARight. Well, have a good one today, hey? And if you feel like it, give a call. There=s always a group of us out and about.@ Abe told him he would and headed out.

His day had begun. He made his way to the bagel shop just down the street from the record store and grabbed a sandwich and a small cup of coffee to wake up with and kept walking. He would have kept going until he crossed the street to turn back the way he came but he ran into someone. Literally. His head was down, attached to the cup of coffee for a moment, and he felt foreign elbows and knees hit him in all the wrong places. The Styrofoam cup splattered at his feet worsening the situation. When he looked up a girl with short, full blonde hair and a frown met his gaze.

AJesus, I=m sorry. I wasn=t paying attention. Are you ok?@

AYeah...@ She shook her head slightly. AFine. Except now I=ve got coffee on my jeans, but...@

AI feel like an ass. I should have been paying...-A

@Ahh, never mind. It=s alright. It=ll wash out, I=m sure.@

AOkay, then. Sorry, again.@ Abe started to shuffle past but she stopped him.

AI=m sorry, now I=m being rude. It=s not every day I get accosted. What=s your name?@

Abe initially felt a stab of worry at the question but then noticed how pretty the girl was. It was not solely because of looks; as for that she didn’t=t seem like anything to jump off a bridge over but her smile in the face of such an embarrassing situation made it seem as though she may have had a beauty not everyone possessed.

AAbe.@ He assumed she just wanted a funny story to tell her girlfriends and needed a name to go along with the face.


AI=m Johanna.@ That should have been the end of the conversation but for some reason it wasn=t. Abe had always rather appreciated uncommon names; perhaps because of his literary background. Abe wasn=t all that flattering of a name but at least it was uncommon. It was the product of a mother who listened to too much Joni Mitchell if that made any sense. AHave I met you before?@ She continued.

AI don=t think so. But maybe it=s because you=ve seen my picture in a book.@ Then she looked utterly confused and now Abe would sound like a braggart if he said he was a writer. Never mind, it had already begun…

AI write. I have some books out. Maybe you saw my face on an advertisement or jacket cover.@ He made it sound as though he were embarrassed by it which was half-truth.

ANo, I can=t say that I have. What=s your last name?@

ACarrington.@

AWhat do you write?@ He suddenly realized they were walking together although she had changed directions and was now following his route home.

AFiction. Stories. Books about life.@ He had stolen that last one from a Rolling Stone Review but then, it was about his book so it really wasn=t stealing, was it?

AThat=s pretty vague.@

AOk.@ He would play...this was a new and different thing. ATake Elliot at the record store...@ They were passing the place then, AI might write a story based on him, with a love interest and some kind of life-changing event.@

ASo that=s all it takes, then? Pick a person and you have a book? Could you write one about me, then?@

AI suppose. It=s a bit harder than that, though. Writing, editing, all of it. There are fun bits, though.@ She nodded with pursed lips. Her jean jacket (a stylish, becoming one, unlike something you=d plaster with WhiteSnake patches and purposely scar with holes and frays) seemed too small and thin for the weather. It wasn=t snowing yet that November but close enough to it that Abe wore a parka.

ASo, give me the gist. What does the back cover say your book is about?@


AOk. The last one was about a guy who has close family ties and finally meets a nice girl. Except that his sixteen year old sister gets jealous of the new girl taking up all the guy=s time without any of them realizing what=s really going on with her. And then the ending, but I=d give it away if I told you that. Of course, you=ve never read it and I doubt you=d single it out in a bookstore, so maybe-A

@No!@ She cried. It was rather flattering to Abe. AI=ll read it. I mean, can I get it at the library?@ Then Abe saw an inroad. If anything Johanna seemed nice especially in light of how they had met.

AWell, yes, you can. But we=re right in front of my apartment now. If you want, I can get you a copy. Save you a trip. Come on up.@ Abe was glad he kept his rooms presentable; one of the necessities of the single life.

AUm, okay.@ She followed him.

Abe shucked his jacket and shoes before going to the bookshelf which was surprisingly small considering his occupation. He found the only (visible) copy of >Had it All Along= and handed it to Johanna with all the grace he could muster. She read the title and nodded.

AThanks.@ They looked at one another for a moment, his blue eyes meeting her grey, before she spoke. AI should get your number.@ She bit her bottom lip and continued though it sounded as if she were trying to start over. ATo return this, I mean.@

AKeep it. I=ve got a box of them in the closet.@ He never told anyone that! It seemed either pathetic or self-deifying to have something like that in your closet and he didn’t=t want to come off as either. However, he had unintentionally waved off a request for his number. Idiot.

AOh. Well, maybe you could just give it to me anyways? In case I really need to give it back to you?@ There was still an air of nervousness in her question but also a tinge of playfulness, perhaps because she had realized his blunder.

AOf course. Sure. Here.@ He took the book back and scribbled on the first page with a sharpie that was always lying on the desk next to the bookshelf.


AAutographed!@ She teased. ADoes this make it worth something?@

AYou never know.@ They looked at one another again not sure what to say.

AWell, I should probably go. You=re probably busy.@ Abe smiled and snorted.

ARight. I=ve got to check my messages and listen to these records of Elliott=s. Where will I find the time? Anyways. Enjoy.@ Johanna smiled and tucked the paperback in the pocket of her jacket before walking out the door.

Abe sat down at the desk and thought about Johanna. It wasn=t because he was particularly taken with her, it was simply what he did whenever he met new and interesting people. He liked to spin off lives for them based on the glimpses he had (which were sometimes nothing more than seeing someone interesting walking down the street). That way of plotting people usually had disappointing consequences if he actually formed a relationship with the person in question because Abe tended towards the romantic and the lives most people led hardly measured up to what could be imagined. Ahh, well. He got some good characters out of it and that was, after all, what fed him. He sighed and popped in The Potatomen.

Johanna called three days later. It was the middle of the evening and heavy into writing time. Abe had to completely shatter his trance to answer the phone and as it was he didn’t=t recognize the voice until she told him her name.

AOh, right. Johanna. How are you?@

AGood, thanks. Did I catch you at a bad time?@ Her tone told him that she thought she had.

ANo, no. I=m just... I write at night. Only time I can really, so I kind of get in a fever. Nothing to worry about.@ Had he really just said >nothing to worry about=? He needed to stop reading so many books set in England.


ASorry. I read your book. It=s good, I thought you should know.@ She paused briefly. ABut I suppose the reviews on the back could tell you that.@

AThanks. It=s nothing that will change the world but I thought it would be a pleasant way to kill an afternoon.@

ASure. You don=t go into descriptions a lot. I liked that. It was...Spartan. Things happened. Fast.@

AAhh, the attention span of my target audience. I=m the same way, so that=s how I write. No need to describe every room in the house, is there?@

ANo,@ she snickered. AThanks for giving it to me and all. I=ve never met an author in quite that way. Although, I have to say you still play second fiddle to the time Shel Silverstien signed my copy of >Where the Sidewalk Ends= when I was ten.@

APlaying second fiddle to that man is a compliment I wish my critics afforded me. Thank you.@

AYou=re welcome. Do you have others?@

AUm, yes. Two others. I=m working on the fourth right now. They=re both along the same vein. I don=t have many copies of those, though. I have a surplus of the one you=ve got because it was the latest I wrote. I=ve given most of the others away. You could certainly borrow mine, though.@

AI=d like that.@

Abe thought to himself for a moment before answering. AI don=t know the first thing about you,@ he stated, AHere I=ve bared my soul for you in books and I don=t even know what you do.@

AI=m an English teacher.@

ABloody hell.@

AWhat=s that supposed to mean?@ She asked with a hint of indignation in her voice.

AWhat the hell are you doing reading me? You=re seriously an English teacher?@

ARoosevelt High school. The Eagles.@ Abe wasn=t familiar with the high schools in the area, but he played along.


AI=m sorry. I thought maybe you were a waitress or a student or something.@ He had forgotten that he was getting older and no doubt the women he was meeting were too. He turned down Talking Heads so he could concentrate on not insulting Johanna any further.

AThanks.@ He could almost see her grimace.

ASorry. I just... I never meant to appeal to people with any kind of a background. You=re not likely to see George Eliot and Abe Carrington side by side on any bookshelf.@

ARelax. Everybody needs a mental recess now and again.@

AWell, I=m glad you liked it. I hate to say it, but the other two are about the same.@

AI=m looking forward to them. Listen.@ There was a hint of apprehension in her voice. AI kind of called because it=s Friday, and I was wondering if you wanted to go out.@

AIt=s Friday? Oh, right, because you have to teach all week. I=m sorry. My schedule...Never mind. I=d love to.@ He rolled his eyes and smiled at the reaction his publishers would have if they knew how little he had been doing in the last week.

AShould I just pick you up since I know where you are?@ Abe told her that sounded fine. They hung up and he thought he could get another page or two in but realized he was wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt and pajama bottoms. By the time Johanna knocked he had barely jumped into something socially acceptable.

When he opened the door he remembered how easy it was to be a girl sometimes. Anything women wore excepting sweats could pass in most situations because they had two genders= clothing to pick from. Jeans or a skirt? Blouse or polo? It wouldn’t=t matter. He let it go, though, because he had it on good authority that women had a few other things going on that were not so pleasant.

AHi.@

AHi. Come in.@ Johanna was wearing very comfortable looking camel colored suede pants and a powder blue silk blouse.

ADid you have anything particular in mind?@ Abe asked. He was in Dockers and a green collared shirt that for him translated to >ready for anything=.


AThere=s a woman that sings in a lounge downtown who sounds kind of like Joan Osborne. I was thinking of going to see her tonight, if that=s your sort of thing.@

AThat sounds good. To tell you the truth I hardly ever go out at night.@

AOk then. We may as well just take my car. It=s warm.@ Abe agreed and followed her down the stairs and into the cold night air.

On the way to the club they chatted idly about nothing of importance: What is was like being around teenagers all day, Abe=s complete lack of structure as far as anyone outside looking in could see, and their last dates.

AThis guy...He was a lawyer... My friend=s cousin or in-law or something, anyways, he was the most hyper adult I=d ever seen. Might have been coked up for all I know. Fancy car, fancy clothes. Definitely just wanted to get laid. If I didn’t=t like lobster so much I=d have left before dinner came out.@

AHe bought lobster and you didn=t sleep with him? I can=t believe that. I=m sunk.@

APlease,@ she smiled, AThis guy had issues. He never called, though, so at least there=s that.@

AMine was a critic for a music column in one of the papers. I thought she would be neat, cultured, you know. A writer of sorts so there would be something to at least build a conversation or two on, but no. She had blue and pink highlights in hair a little darker than yours. Rings on every finger. A nose stud. Nice girl, really, but all she wanted to talk about was music. Not even about herself or what her favorite color was or any of that. Just how much Steve Malkimus was influenced by Lou Reed or the sad state of pop-punk. I went out with her twice to make sure, but...@

APurple.@

AWhat?@


AThat=s my favorite color. Purple. Just in case you wanted to know.@ She looked over at him keeping both hands on the wheel at a perfect ten and two position (who drives like that?) and smiled sweetly.

AOh. Right. Mine=s, um...@ She turned again and he stuttered. AMine=s burnt umber.@

AWhat?@

AIt=s in a sixty-four count box of Crayolas. It=s the color of reddish clay. Or the cliffs in Arizona. Like a red-brown combination. It=s very relaxing.@

AYeah?@ Johanna was looking Abe’s way again and gracing him with a wide open smile showing all her teeth. There was a mixture of amusement, respect, and wary disbelief in her eyes.

AHow do you do that?@

AWhat?@

AGet me to say things like that. I sound like an imbecile. They=ve got classes for it with your degree, right? How to manipulate people to get them to say things they may not normally say?@

AThat=s a bit harsh, don=t you think?@ Abe sighed.

AYou=re right. I=m sorry.@ He had almost let out the rest of the breath it had taken to utter the sentence when he caught her. AThere it was! You just did it again and I apologized! How do you do that?@

AI=m really a witch.@ Johanna had said it so convincingly that Abe almost believed her. Before he could think of a rebuttal they were in front of the club. AShall we?@

AWe=ll continue this,@ he said, trying to sound sly. Except he was a writer, not an actor.

The bar was typical, filled with cigarette smoke, college kids and townies. Abe thought he might have been there before but it could have been any number of other establishments just like it. The bored looking fellow sitting on a stool just inside the door waved them through after taking a cover from Abe. (Why didn’t=t they bother to i.d. him anymore? He hadn=t been i.d.=ed in ages.)

There were no open tables on the floor so they sat at the crowded bar and ordered a gin and tonic for Abe and a rum and Coke for Johanna.

ASo I could be a substitute teacher?@


AYeah, sixty credits in anything and a clean background check sets it up. There=s not even a drug test.@

AOh, you figure I must be a pothead writer, hey?@ He tried to sound indignant but Johanna was too intelligent for his bullshit.

ANo, I wanted to prove the point of laxness. But now that you=re all defensive about it...@

AI could never do it. All the little girls would get crushes on me and probably need years of therapy...and the English classes? Forget it. They=d fire me.@

AWhy?@

“Because I=d let them read real books. Fun books. >On The Road=, Charles Bukowski, Frank Herbert, Chuck Palahniuk.@

AYou would let them read >Diaries of a Dirty Old Man=?@

AWell, maybe I would break them into Bukowski. They’ll read it in college anyways. That’s when it was required for me. But do you see what I=m saying? I=m too... If I had a nickel for ever time I couldn’t=t think of a word I want... I like things that hit people. Uplifting, depressing, hilarious, manic, whatever. And whenever people are taken outside of their comfort levels, they get defensive.@

ASo you would purposely piss people off just to see it?@ She was swirling the remains of her drink and if Abe would have been paying attention he would have seen that he was starting to lose her.

AThat=s not what I mean at all. I would be just as likely to want someone to read me, in all my sugar coated pleasantry, because of that very fact, as I would want them to read Kerouac. Sorry if I came off as insensitive. It would just depend on my mood. I just don=t have... the sense?... experience? Of dealing with your age of kids to know what to censure. I don=t know their psychology. I wouldn’t want to censure anything, because it’s all out there on the shelves. But I sure as hell wouldn’t=t want them wasting their time with >A Separate Peace=.@ Johanna started giggling. AWhat?@

AThat=s what we=re reading right now in tenth grade English.@

ASee,@ Abe shrugged with his hands, AThis is what I=m saying.@ She couldn’t=t stop. Her hand gripped his shoulder and she buried her face in the crook of her elbow until the laughter subsided.


AYou shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. I don=t think your book was sugar coated. It was nice.@

AThanks. She=s good, you were right.@ The singer was a brunette with short feathered hair pouring her heart out about life at the front of the room on a makeshift stage that was merely a spot where the owners had moved just enough tables to leave room for amps and a microphone. Johanna nodded and they listened to the music in silence for a moment.

AWell. One more?@ She waved her glass towards the bar.

AWhy not?@ They ordered another round and launched into conversation again.

AYou should come to my classes. Be a guest speaker. A real-world writer. The kids would be thrilled. Well, at least as thrilled as high school kids can get.@

AI=m not sure you want your students striving to be me, but sure. Why not?@

AThat would be fun.@ Johanna rested her cheek on her knuckles and stared at Abe. ACan I tell you something else?@ His stomach knotted but he nodded. AI=d like to see you again.@

AWe=re not even done with this date.@ She narrowed her eyes slightly and smirked, reminding him that she couldn’t=t be played that easily. AKidding. I would like that, too.@

ACan I read another one of your books?@

Abe nodded. AYou can read both of them if you would like. I think I could live without my copies for a bit.@

AGood.@ They finished their drinks and waited for a set break from the singer who had been providing wonderful background music for more than an hour. AIt=s too smoky in here for me to stand it much longer,@ Johanna proclaimed in the silence. So they left.

AIf I follow you up to your place, you=re not automatically going to think that I=m going to sleep with you, are you?@


AI=ve had too much fun with you so far to act like an asshole now.@ At nineteen he would have thought differently but as he had grown older Abe realized how trivial sex could be in the grand scheme of things. Besides, it was always more gratifying to draw things out.

AGood. Because I only want you for your books.@ She giggled quickly and shut off her car. The ride home had seemed much shorter than the trip to the club but it most certainly hadn=t warmed up any, they realized, and hurried into the building.

ASo are you supposed to be writing right now?@ She asked, slipping off her jacket. A good sign.

ASupposed to be. I like to keep my publishers guessing, though.@

AWell, I don=t want to keep you from your work.@

AThere=s always tomorrow night. I don=t think I would get anything accomplished if you left now anyways. And it=s only eleven o=clock. I usually watch Saturday Night Live if, you=d like to stay.@

AI haven=t seen that show since I was in college.@

AIt=s not as good as it was then but Will Ferrell makes it worth watching. Do you want a beer? Or there=s pop, I think. Maybe some really old juice. No guarantees on the juice, though.@

ABeer=s fine.@ Johanna stood in front of his bookshelf and browsed while Abe disappeared into the kitchen. When he came back she was still standing in the same place. She had found the first book he=d published and was reading the jacket thoughtfully.

AHere, drink half of this as fast as you can and it=ll sound a lot better,@ he smiled, handing her a bottle of Labatt=s.

AThanks. This sounds pretty good.@

AIt=s ok. It was my first, so I always see where I could have done better with it in hindsight. That was published three months after I got my master=s. If that wouldn’t=t have happened I would be teaching writing classes at a community college today.@ She glanced at his diplomas hung decoratively on the wall either side of the shelves. He didn=t know why he had framed them, it just always seemed to him that it was what people did when they got a graduate degree. And it filled up the white space beautifully.

AThat wouldn’t be too bad.@


AYeah, I=ve thought about picking up a class or two for some extra cash, but to tell you the truth I don=t need it and it would just be a hassle, really. It=s nice as an option, though. Can=t straddle the fence forever.@

AI don=t mean to pry, but how much does a book make for you?@

AWell, it depends on how it sells, really. It=s about the same thing as a record deal except there=s no long term contract unless you=re really famous. Since I don=t have a contract I sell the rights to the publisher for about fifteen to twenty thousand and get royalties from the sales besides. Maybe thirty to fifty cents a paperback. It takes about a year to write one, all said and told, so maybe forty to fifty thousand a book, initially, with libraries and what have you buying copies. I still get checks for fifty or a hundred every month from this one and it=s been out for four years. I=m not driving a Lexus but it=s enough that I don=t have to do anything else. Leaves me more time for dumping scalding beverages on women I want to meet.@ Johanna chuckled.

ASo why would you even want a contract if you can peddle to whoever and they still pay for the story?@

AWell, for one thing they=ll pay you to write, say, three books in a contract. But they=ll give you the money up front and it=s usually better than a straight buy-out because they want to get you in their corner instead of in another publisher=s harem. So you get maybe a hundred thousand for three books versus forty five to sixty. It lets you breathe a little easier. You also get higher royalties. And little contracts lead to big ones, and more advertisement, and peddling for screenplays and the like. But the whole thing also comes with more rigid time frames and duties like publicity tours and meetings and people trying to control your person rather than just your writing.@

AThat=s why you haven=t contracted?@


ANo, they just haven=t offered. If I could make twice as much money for doing about the same amount of work I do now I would be on it in a heartbeat. It might happen if I write something that accidentally makes the New York Times Bestseller List but right now I have a friendly relationship with the people at Bantam and they buy my books without much hassle at all.@

AThat sounds so interesting. Different, at least. So, you can wake up at noon, walk around town all day, and sit down and write a few chapters at night, and you=re good to go?@

AThat=s exactly what I was doing when I met you. Sometimes, though, I think some structure would be nice. Something to get up for. Keep me regular. That=s usually when I start thinking about grabbing up a class at a college.@

AI don=t know, it sounds nice to me.@

AWell, It=s the same as a trip to Hawaii. It seems so fabulous, but if you lived there, it would just be another day on a little island in the middle of the ocean. Those people probably dream of vacationing in Chicago or New York.@ That was a view Abe had thoroughly polished from walking many people through the scenario of his life.

AI suppose you=re right.@

AI=m sure you could write something that would sell. You could do it as a hobby. Have a little nest egg or something. For goodness’ sake, you could edit my drafts with a degree in English.@

AI guess. I don=t know if I would have the patience, though. For an entire novel, I mean.@

AI know what you mean. I do have to look at it as a job sometimes.@ Abe paused and examined his beer awkwardly. AHey, it=s about that time. Shall we?@ They moved to the couch and Abe turned on the television. They sat next to one another, three inches from being shoulder to shoulder.

Abe realized he wasn=t paying very close attention to the show and saw Johanna wasn=t either. Who watched T.V. on a first date anyways?

AI=m sorry. This was probably a stupid idea. I just wanted an excuse for you to stick around.@


She gave him a look of understanding. AI kind of thought so.@ Abe turned the television off and turned the stereo on. Belle and Sebastian started playing but he didn’t=t feel like falling asleep so he skipped to the next disc. It was an old Del Amitri album. He let it play.

ASo, what should we do now?@

AI don=t know,@ She laughed. AMaybe we should have stayed out a little longer.@

>I=m sure we could find something to talk about. I=ll start. Do you have any pets?@

She laughed again. AA goldfish. Named Goldie. Isn=t that clever?@

ATerribly. I don=t have any pets. I have a few plants, though. Ok, what=s you favorite band?@

AMmhh. Bob Dylan. My parents listened to him constantly and I used to hate him as a kid. Guess what song I=m named after?@ She rolled her eyes. ABut now I can=t get enough. I guess it=s just one of those learned things.@

AThat=s a very respectable favorite. I like Dylan. Blood on the Tracks is probably my favorite.@

AI like >Free Wheeling= best. Ok. My turn. What=s your favorite book?@

AWow, you don=t like to warm up or anything, hey?@ Johanna shook her head. AWell, in high school it was >Atlas Shrugged=. I thought I was an intellectual with that one. In college it was >On the Road=, and that=s still definitely a top pick. Right now, though, I=d have to say,@ He paused for a long time before answering, “Another Roadside Attraction”, by Tom Robbins. His first book. I’ll probably think of something better as soon as you go, but…Your turn.”

AAnything by Vonnegut.@

AAhh, I forgot about Vonnegut. He=s interesting. My turn. Favorite movie. Drama and Comedy.@


AOh. Okay, >Magnolia=. And...you=re going to think this is stupid, but my favorite comedy is >The Three Amigos= with Chevy Chase, Martin Short, and Steve Martin. I have never laughed harder in my life than when the Mexican bandito opens the present from his posse and says >Eet=s a Swaeter!= Seriously the most hilarious thing ever.@ From Abe=s look Johanna could tell he had no idea what she was talking about. >Sorry,@ she said with a blush, A You=ll have to see it, I guess. Never mind. You go.

A >The Big Lebowski= and >Gangs of New York=.@

AI=ve never heard of that. The first one I mean. The second is good.@

AIt=s John Goodman, Steve Buschemi, Jeff Bridges, Julianne Moore, a bunch of others. We=ll have to watch our movies some night.@

AThat sounds good.@ She stretched and sighed. AI should go, though. It=s been fun. We=ll have to do it again.@

AThat=d be good.@ Abe got up when Johanna did and walked her to the door.

AI never gave you my number,@ she realized once she opened the door. Abe shot back to his desk and grabbed the sharpie and a legal pad. She took them and made her mark. AThere you go. Call me when you get a free moment.@ She chuckled and kissed his cheek before turning down the hall.