27 missing the point

When I opened my eyes the next day, the silent sunlight told me how late it was, a glance at the clock only confirmed the startling news, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell if this was good or bad.

What did no early morning phone call mean?

Was I in or out of favor and would she ever call me again?

I should have been happy being out from under something I knew was becoming out of control but doubt gnawed at me and with this being my day off, I didn't even have the prospect of work to distract me.

Then against all reason, I went over there

Peggy's car was in the lot.

Her music blasted in the stairwell so loud I had to bang with bold fists well she turned it down and yanked open the door

what the fuck do you want she exploded the moment she saw me?

My mouth hung open for so long she had time to pace the kitchen twice cigarette smoldering between her fingers of her one hand while the other hand clutched her ice rattling drink.

I thought I stuttered that we might do something since it's my day off from work

if I wanted to do something with you I would call you she snarled now get the fuck out.”

I made a hasty retreat stumbling down each flight of stairs in a blind free fall until I came out onto the street, Hence since I had parked my car up Harrison Ave. I got a glimpse of Peggy fire escape and her face framed by the window and the bars behind it are glaring face so full of rage I shook dropping my keys before I could get them in the car door lock then again onto the floor of the car when I tried to get the key into the ignition

I ran two lights to get back to the safety of my cave

Not long later, my telephone rang

I didn’t want to answer it; I already knew who would be on the other end.

My hand moved of its own volution, taking hold of the receiver, then lifting it to my ear.

“Hello?” I said, my voice sounding like someone else’s.

“Alfred? Is that you?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you sound so strange?”

Did I really need to explain? Could I fully explain the feeling of horror her performance earlier had engendered in me?

“I’m just tired,” my strange voice said, laying out a half truth which would have to suffice.

“If it’s about what happened this morning, I can explain,” she said.

I stayed silent for so long, she responded.

“But not over the phone,” she said, finally. “Why don’t you come over. We can stay in and watch some TV.”

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“I said I did, didn’t I?” she snapped. “I’ll meet you at my apartment.”

I hung up the phone, thinking I had missed an opportunity rather than gained one.

I didn’t hurry; I couldn’t hurry. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, as if, too, a reaction to the reckless speed of events to this point.

When I got there this time, her music filled the apartment, rather than consuming it, some tune from the band, “America,” curling around ever corner like a cut, making the place seem mellow and somehow sad.

A prescription bottle sat on the table along with her usual ingredients for a drink. She sat perched on the window sill across the room, still holding her drink.

“What’s this?” I asked, picking up the prescription bottle.

“Valium.”

I looked at the label.

“They’re not yours,” I said.

“No,” Peggy admitted. “They’re my friend’s. She same me them to help calm me down.”

“Should you be mixing them with alcohol. I heard that’s dangerous.”

“Everything is dangerous, Alfred. Even you.”

“Me?”

“That stuff you do with your hands.”

“What about it?”

“I hate the idea that you can turn me on anytime you want.”

“I didn’t realize I could.”

“Well, you can and it scares me.”

“You were going to explain what happened earlier.”

“Oh that, it was nothing.”

“It didn’t feel like nothing to me.”

“It had nothing to do with you.”

“Who then?”

“Someone showed up last night after you left. He was drunk and I had to deal withy him. I think he gook something when he went.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

“You don’t call the police for things like this.”

“Like what? Drugs?”

“And something else,” she said, pausing to take a long pull on her drink, then her cigarette, and when the expulsion of the smoke through her nostrils, “Must you always grill me?”

“I’m the one who got shouted at,” I said. “I would like to know why.”

“He took my point,” she said, again taking a deep swallow from her drink. “There. Are you happy now?”

“Your point? You mean your needle?”

“No, as in my knitting – of course, I mean my needle.”

“What the hell do you need that for?”

“What do you think I need it for, Alfred? Even you can’t be this dumb.”

“Pretend like I am and explain it to me.”

“I’m not a main-liner if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said, sliding off the sill to seek out a refill for her drink, her hands shaking as she poured the vodka and pineapple juice into the glass, and then continued to shake as she added more ice.

“I like to skin pop once in a while,” she said.

“Skin pop what?”

“What the fuck do you think,” she snapped, then as if still under the influence of her girl friend’s prescription, she smiled. “It makes a good wake up in the morning.”

“Only this is not morning.”

“No, she said, looking angry again despite the valium. “When I went to get my fix, my point was gone – along with all mys stuff.”

“And?”

“I have to get more.”

I glanced at the bottle of valium on the table and guessed from whom it must have come. I would have pressed her for more information, but the combination of valium and alcohol made her so mellow she said she needed to sit down, and suggested we settle on the couch in her living room, only we should get some food first from the deli.

I agreed, then stumbled back out into the hall and down the stairs to the street, making the quick jaunt to the deli to be some turkey clubs.

Peggy Main Menu