“Good to see you!” I said, wildly exaggerating. “I’ve missed you! (like a chapped ass)
she was one of those nervous types; always moving and fidgeting
I mean she was nice enough, but her constant nervousness got on my nerves
she giggled innocuously looking at the menu stained with...something
her entire outfit was one big clash with a capital C
she fidgeted as she always does and then asked the waitress
for things that weren’t even on the menu (pumpernickel toast)
some chamomile tea and a bowl of minestrone soup
settling instead for a grilled cheese on white...
after the waitress left undoubtedly shell-shocked at the encounter
my friend cackled and said “well, she asked me what I wanted”
we used to see each other more often
she had a cabin deep in the woods off route 2
inherited from her Daniel Boone-esque grandfather
(‘a real ‘man’s man’) hunter & fisherman extraordinaire
a beautiful rustic place surrounded by oaks, elms, pines
different varieties of maples, weeping willows
a short walk from the tippecanoe river
it was gorgeous but a little too remote for me to live there
and she had asked me a couple of times to do just that
I was so tempted imagining the things I could write secluded there
I’d even get up early just to listen to the birds singing
bacon and eggs then a walk down to the river banks
hearing the water splashing over the rocks as it flowed past
then I would go back to the cabin and sit on the screened back porch
that was enclosed around a large oak tree typing leisurely all afternoon
I was going to put typing furiously but I couldn’t be furious
in that kind of xanax setting
she’d had a few live-ins there but always caused them to run off
maybe it was the disquieting introspection that the place invited
the days were wonderful but the nights were unsettling
dark and remote, no neighbors for miles, sketchy phone service
the fear of being murdered by intruders
the cabin had-had a couple of break-ins
thankfully when no one was there
so I declined her offer of sofas smelling of sickening cheap sweet perfume
bad tasting ‘homemade wine’, and grating idiosyncrasies
leaving her to the live squirrels and raccoons
and dead animals stuffed and mounted on the halls and walls
