Sneak Peak

We were reading the newspaper under a street-light at the Country Kitchen on Pittosporum Drive, out near the interstate mixmaster. It was a quarter after ten, a warm week-night in this spare neighborhood of bright-lighted, dazzlingly colored signs over darkened businesses.

"Police were called just after 1:30 a.m. Saturday to a disturbance at the Break Time at 1000 Quaking Aspin Lane, where about 200 people were gathered before the convenience store was required to stop selling liquor for the night."

There were "multiple fights and multiple shooters".

Afterwards, there was a body.
____

We'd stepped out while our food was being prepared so I could have a smoke, and so we could escape a happy-go-wiry, stoned little man sitting at the booth behind us.

He'd asked us if we were there for breakfast or dinner. Then he held two identical, full dinner plates over the back of the seat by D.'s shoulder, to show us what he and his neighbor had. We were friendly, as is wise.
(Later thought if I'd have said 'stay on your side of the booth or I'll kick you in the head after my little girlfriend here lays you out'.)
___
Now I kept exclaiming, "200 people?!" and everytime D. would answer in awe, "Someone got shot."

She looked down to the ground and tried to step on a creeping bug.

"200 people got stupid all at once and ran out of beer at closing time?? Incredible!"

"Amatuers. But no, really! Someone got shot!" She stepped forward again, absently, and tried to squash the bug again but missed and gave up.

"Can you imagine 200 people at a Breaktime! I'd have liked to have seen that."

"They still haven't caught the guy."

"What guy?"

"The guy who shot the guy! Somebody got shot. There was a body. How terrible."

"Imagine. Two or three clerks there maybe?"

I finally stepped around her and stepped on the bug and D. went "AAAAAAAA! How could you do that , that poor thing!!"

I was astonished. "God dammit, D.!" She shook with quiet laughing.

A purse snatcher walked past us, from out of the darkness behind the restuarant, then turned around and headed towards us, asking for a light. I got up and met him with my Bic, sticking it out under his nose. He cupped his hand over the flame and said thanks and moved on.

I went back to sit with her on on the landscaping rails. "He wanted your purse."

Still reading. "Oh if he'd tried that, and if I had a bazooka, and if my hands were steady..."

Two weeks ago, D. stopped smoking. She says she's not cranky but more like impulsively murderous. It's why I don't let her drive the car.

I think if she'd had a bazooka she'd have aimed at the purse-snatcher and then changed her mind and shot at the gas station instead. Just for the more satisfying Ka-boom, Ka-BOOM!.
____
We started back toward the front door of the dine-and-dash.

"Hey, oh look what I did," she showed me two front pages. "I took two papers instead of one!"

"My Gaawd, what is wrong with me, my world, my world is just like wave after wave of this mental , this mental and emotional, my god the world the last ten days like 'oh,I know! I just need a cigarette!!'... this committee in my mind, this sub-committee in my fingers, I'm so clumsy and uncoordinated and this, this heedless lessness! "

I held open the door.

"...And there's SO much I have to do, things that need to be done that I have to do but all I do is work, and sleep, work and sleep and eat and I don't smoke and I'm gaining weight and look I took two papers out of the machine!"

The people at the adjacent booth acted relieved to see us. "Oh! We thought we'd scared you two away!"

"No, no we just went out for a smoke," I said. "Ha ha. No, no." We don't mind strangers leaning in between us and putting their food under our noses.

"I'm in a black hole!" D. exclaimed.

They became silent and we didn't hear from them again.

We sat back down and our food was waiting. Salad for her, country fried steak for me.

"How long have you been feeling this way, honey?"
"Since I stopped smoking," she said without a trace of agitation now. It was a ridiculous question.
"You know, that's terrific. You're my hero. Really."

"Did you smoke a cigarette out there?" she asked. "I didn't see you smoke."
"Yes, I did."

Prepping her salad with dressing and crutons, she told me, "Today when I was at that seminar with Angela and it was over I told her "we've got to hurry to the car so you can smoke!' Haha. I'm crazy!"

"Yes you are! And you know it's an important achievment!"

(Thank gawdawmighty she likes people to smoke. At this stage anyway. Naturally I've secretly been resentful because ...well what can we call this, she's doing? I call it "self-will run riot", her stopping smoking on me. Without warning. I mean gdmt, this means I'm going to have to stop too, I know it does.)

"I love cigarettes. I hate cigarettes," she said her mantra quietly to herself.

I leaned in, then.

"Did you know I'm in charge of Returns at the newspaper, and your stealing that paper from the rack will reflect in my paperwork tomorrow?" I leaned back. "...And make me think of you, darling?"

"Really?" she said sweetly, not faking boredom.

"Yes. A man named Ghandi will claim 8 out of 10 papers sold from that rack, but he'll present me with only one return. I'll have to demand where the other paper is."

"Can you take it with you? Why don't you take it with you to work tomorrow?"

"You don't understand!" I said sternly, biting into a dinner-roll. "Never mind."

Our neighbors left us, we finished our meal and pushed our plates at one another to the center of the table, making quite a racket.

I read some more, aloud:

"Officers responded at 12:26 a.m. to Toromiro Tree Road Car Wash, 1722 Toromiro Tree Road, Columbia police said in a news release.

An unidentified 27-year-old man told police he was vacuuming his car when he saw a man standing at the edge of the parking lot. The suspect fired several shots at the victim, who was not injured, the news release said.

Officers found damage to the victim’s car and several spent cartridges in the area where the suspect was described as standing, the news release said."

"Holy Chi-taki! That's where you washed your car that one time you washed your car. That's where I washed your car that one time I washed your car!"

"Just a shout away but I'm never hearing any shouting like that." Dodging bullets while cowering behind your car causes a unique sort of shout. I tried to imagine if I could remain so cool, and concluded that yes, I could. I wouldn't remain standing. I'd have that certain presence of mind.
____
On the way home I asked D. about personality types, since she's been a counselor and met a lot of people when she wasn't a counselor too. Then I asked her about herself.

"My friends consider me loud. I am loud. I'll be telling a story and they'll yell 'I'm right here!'

She's not loud at all, not since I've known her, about two years ago. But I guess you don't know anyone until you see how they react in situations.

We are in for a long hot summer here.