With the third sip of heavily sweetened tea, Jordan\u00a0reaches down and puts her hand on his thigh but it was not a gesture of closeness even though they\u2019d made love a half hour before.<\/p>\n
She’s supporting herself with that hand, she’s trying to stop the swaying. Her eyes are\u00a0half-closed and words that mumble out of her slack mouth are\u00a0half-formed, incoherent, and inaudible even to him sitting close.<\/p>\n
He gently holds\u00a0her wrist so he can\u00a0catch her if she falls\u00a0backwards. He doesn’t\u00a0know what drug she\u2019d decided to take before she met him that causes her to alternate between sexual mania and this catatonia.<\/p>\n
Suddenly, Jordan\u00a0inhales sharply and her eyes open wide, she focuses now on the coffee shop, aware of where she is\u00a0and that she is\u00a0with him.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s so strange, scenes from my past just merge into this, bad things that happened in a place like this. But I\u2019m glad to be here, with you. I\u2019m just so tired,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n
Jordan fades out again, her head tips back and her eyes half close, but she returns more quickly. He can’t\u00a0tell if it’s a heroin nod, or if very potent\u00a0TCH is\u00a0overwhelming her balance. She met him saying something was wrong with her contacts, so he suspects pot was her drug of choice but strains of pot are now so powerful.<\/p>\n
Dinner had been exceptional. Chicken fried lamb neck on a bed of spiced grits and honey with spiced carrots and dill; a stuffed trout, roast chicken thighs with the fat crisped and served with potato gnocchi that puffed with flavor of butter, and squash and arugula. Each course was expertly served by a tall Eurasian beauty at a tiny restaurant Jordan\u00a0had heard about and wanted to try.<\/p>\n
It didn\u2019t matter how the evening ended, if Jordan\u00a0would spend the night, if they would make love again, if he just took her back downtown to her apartment. The meal itself, at a place Jordan\u00a0really wanted to go but probably would not remember, was worth the visit to town.<\/p>\n
* \u00a0 <\/span>* \u00a0 <\/span>*<\/p>\n Tommy\u00a0is dressed in black leather. The long trench coat is\u00a0supple and has a wide belt. Tall boots lace nearly to his knee, but for affect, yes, have\u00a0four large silver buckles along each\u00a0calf. The black leather vest is\u00a0laced up the sides but open over a long-sleeved black T-shirt. The chain that\u00a0hooks each end to his belt loops low along his thigh.<\/p>\n Tattoos splash up and out of the neck of his\u00a0T-shirt, up his throat and neck but stop short of a face that is\u00a0so handsome he might once have been on the cover of a trashy semi-porn romance novel. Now,\u00a0long blond hair hangs\u00a0in a pony-tail halfway down his back bedraggled from the incessant rain.<\/p>\n Tommy sits\u00a0next to a couple whose first meeting was online. Now, finally, for the first time, over coffee, \u201cwhat is\u201d greets \u201cwhat I imagined.\u201d On the other side of him is\u00a0an informal job interview, a man\u00a0in a sport coat advises\u00a0a\u00a0younger man in a nice plaid shirt with a parka over the back of his chair. A brief case disgorges a resum\u00e9 to be carried back through the rain and put on a pile.<\/p>\n Tommy is wearing his leather resum\u00e9, his eyes dart around the coffee shop, measuring and evaluating the rest of us, his CV is the backpack at his feet displaying a\u00a0life story in scuffs and and patches that start conversations that end in strange bedrooms where his dangerous beauty is\u00a0currency for whatever is offered: food, shelter, a few hundred bucks, maybe a watch or a broach lifted when his benefactor goes to the bathroom, to be pawned at one of the shops down on Third Street.<\/p>\n * \u00a0 <\/span>* \u00a0 <\/span>*<\/p>\n Chelan\u00a0is very pretty and thin and her hair is a golden chestnut with streaks of gold and is shorter in back, it\u2019s cut so it follows the angle of her fine jaw down below her chin\u00a0 <\/span>but not quite to the points of her collar bone, her hair is thick and shiny and hangs heavy, swaying when she changes expression so it is in constant motion.<\/p>\n Sarah\u00a0is the same age but not as polished, thick black hair hangs loose on its own, not completely in control as it is pushed back over ears, strands constantly pushed back using fingertips as a comb.<\/p>\n They talk as if they were once fond but now nearly-forgotten acquaintances, maybe sorority sisters from five or ten years ago, roommates as college.<\/p>\n Sarah\u00a0says words that bring a succession of dramatic facial expressions from Chelan, her\u00a0fine jaw underlining perfect hair that stays intact for all these animated expressions, wide-eyed-wide-open-mouth surprise followed by deep frowns, everything expressed as if a text punctuated with exclamation points. OMG!<\/p>\n They stand to leave and Sarah\u00a0pushes her hair back over her ear with her fingertips again and hands Chelan\u00a0a card or a note. Chelan\u00a0with her\u00a0hair streaked with gold looks at it and then calls up an expression as if\u00a0she is in great pain, as if the gesture itself is\u00a0about to elicit tears if not sobs because she\u2019s overwhelmed.<\/p>\n But thankfully this passes and is replaced easily with a smile as warm as the January sun, followed by a quick kiss on the cheek as she looks at her watch and affirms her need to say good-bye.<\/p>\n * \u00a0 <\/span>* \u00a0 <\/span>*<\/p>\n William\u00a0struggles to climb out of the Town Car, as if his hair is dyed\u00a0so black to hide that he is many years older than most would choose as a driver. But he can\u2019t hide the stiffness of his tendons, the brittleness of his bones, as he takes the bag from the pilot with three stripes on his sleeve.<\/p>\n The small bag does\u00a0not go over the lip with the first effort and the airline captain winces\u00a0as William\u00a0puts more effort into the second swing so the bag tumbles into the trunk. The captain gives a small shake of his head he knows William can’t see. Co-captain easily puts his bag beside the first with one hand while carrying a briefcase with the other and walks around the car to get in while William\u00a0reaches up stiffly to close the lid.<\/p>\n William\u00a0turns about so\u00a0the left side of his face is now visible.\u00a0It is offset from the right, it hangs slack, inches below where once it had been. He might have suffered a stroke, given his age, but as\u00a0he continues the turn it\u2019s apparent that the black stem of his glasses going back grasps only his head, and the too-black hair ends in a ragged line above where his ear would have been if he\u2019d had an ear.<\/p>\n The droop of his face is\u00a0not from a stroke but flesh and skin are no longer supported by a cheek bone, now missing, or a jaw, destroyed and removed. Flesh droops\u00a0like theater bunting\u00a0down the side of his face.<\/p>\n It was a ferocious impact when his previous Town Car was hit on the driver\u2019s side door by a\u00a0pick-up jacked so high the bumper cleared the door bracing and came right through the window as it sped through the red light in an effort to get home two minutes earlier and before traffic piled up at the bridge.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" With the third sip of heavily sweetened tea, Jordan\u00a0reaches down and puts her hand on his thigh but it was not a gesture of closeness even though they\u2019d made love a half hour before.<\/p>\n She’s supporting herself with that hand, she’s trying to stop the swaying. Her eyes are\u00a0half-closed and words that mumble out of her slack mouth are\u00a0half-formed, incoherent, and inaudible even to him sitting close.<\/p>\n He gently holds\u00a0her wrist so he can\u00a0catch her if she falls\u00a0backwards. He doesn’t\u00a0know what drug she\u2019d decided to take before she met him that causes her to alternate between sexual \u2026 Read more\u2026