Monday, September 21, 2015
A Day in the Life (Blogophilia 31.8)
The Lincoln turned into the freshly paved lot, white sunlight glinting off the alabaster curbs. A paving job made just for him. Yeah, right. Pulling in next to the door, the handicap placard found it’s home on the mirror. The permit was good for another four months, so might as well take advantage of it. That stopped him in his tracks. Had it already been eight months since Amy had passed? Twenty six long months of dialysis and chemo appointments had taken a toll, time he couldn’t account for. Now there is a chance to catch up somewhat. He thought she would approve of him moving on. He was reasonably healthy and probably had another ten or so years left in him. There really wasn’t any reason not to.
The plane was due at six, airport Gods willing. They had been online buddies for years, trading insults and confidences through each others' medical hardships. Every now and then a fantasy in his mind would play. They would drive up to an isolated cabin where she would dressed in a royal blue silk teddy for him, a red hibiscus contrasting in the thin blond hair. They would drink wine and spend hours tracing surgical scars and tender spots, devolving into a tickling contest. It would end with her on top, crowing her triumph over the world as his hands went over and under the soft fabric. The mirage would fade at that point, leaving him emptier than he was before.
Brutal heat bore in to his flesh, snapping him back to reality. Yeah, it’s summer. Shutting off the car and its blessed air conditioning, he unfolded to something close to upright. Joints clicking and snapping, remind him he wasn’t twenty-one anymore. Stepping slowly, the entry door slid open and the cold blast hit his face. The sinuses immediately react, spreading a thin stream of mucus down the right side of his lip. A quick wipe of the handkerchief dispatches the gunk. To some, it would have been embarrassing, but not him. The stream always had reminded him he was alive. Grabbing one of the smaller carts, he made his way into the store.
The store was like all the others in the chain, only cleaner and larger. Multicolored vegetables called from the right side of the store and dairy from the left. Canned goods and meat cheered everyone along from the center. A corporate DJ mix using Kid Rock and other safe music came out of the music system. He knew the consultant the store used the tunes to keep the shoppers marching as they made their way along counterclockwise path. Everything designed for purchase maximization and orderly flock management. Run the suckers and entice them with products they don’t need or want. Ooh, look! Pickled ramen in shrimp sauce, wouldn’t that be yummy?
He wondered if things would be different if they played a mix of Conway Twitty, Teddy Pendergrass and Barry White. Music women were known to dance and make love to. And make sure they provide plenty of wine samples. If nothing else, it would make this process a lot less boring.
Absently, baking potatoes landed in the basket. Food allergies, what were they? It had been so long since he had fixed a meal for someone other than himself. She said she liked steak. It probably would have been easier just to take her out, but she insisted she wanted a fresh cooked meal, and the apartment complex grill would do for the cooking. The squash looks good; I wonder if she’d like that?
He found a nice Cabernet in markdown basket. “Candy is dandy?” If nothing else, it would soothe the anxiety of talking to a real person. It had been a long time since he had done that. It was safer to hide behind the computer screen. Yeah, there were real pictures of him on his account and he wasn’t one of those pervs that say he was someone else. But the thought of meeting this girl was making him nervous.
All he had to go by was the picture of a sunken eyed waif staring like a vulnerable virgin ready for the taking. She was young enough to be his daughter. What was she really like? On the surface, the only common thread they had was various medical conditions. Discussion of drug side effects would be punctuated with sexual innuendo and giggling, nothing black and white, but varying shades of gray and blue. These exchanges had gotten him through many a dark period during the illness and afterward. It truly seemed like she cared. Would she be this gregarious? A timid mouse? Or the worse internet nightmare, what if she were a guy? He didn’t fly that way.
Passing the butcher counter, a nice porterhouse called his name. With a quick exchange, it was placed in the thick paper and into the cart.
Was her voice sweet and high or whiskey gravel? Did she use perfume? He hoped not. Most of them closed his sinuses right up. Besides, musky human smell, as long as it wasn’t too strong, was better. It felt better. Cuddling up to Prudence in the early morning always had made him happy no matter what time of the month it was. Even during the sickness, when the scent became acidic and the turned sallow, there was happiness in her presence.
Desert was already taken care of. She was bringing down a homemade gluten free strudel from a recipe she had found. Coffee? Better pick some up.
A table of discontinued items marked down for quick sale stood just outside the checkout, mostly from the Pharmacy and hygiene departments. Deodorants and hair colors, whose sell by dates had passed, stood forlornly hoping someone needing an ego boost would pick them up. Kind of like him. A few bottles of cough syrup, stood in front of rubber scrunchies with damaged packaging. Feeling the receding hairline brought a laugh. Nothing he could ever use. At the back of the table was a large pack of Trojans. Oh, why not? A guy can hope.
The slack jawed drone at the counter mindlessly scanned the goods and took his card, rocking back and forth on weebul like hips. Just the opposite of what he hoped to see later.
Chirping introduced the text message and he look at the screen as he went out the sliding door.
“Boarding now. See you at baggage claim.” Attached was a picture of a goofy girl at the airline gate lifting her shirt to show a tattoo across her rounded tummy. It said “Here comes the sun.”
He smiled as the Sun bore back down on his head, his thoughts dancing at the possiblities.
It was going to be a good night.
Pic guesses: DJ Mix (in blog), Party (in blog), dance (in blog), tunes (in blog). trance, rave, disco, rocking, circle, turning, scratch.