2-20-10 more of the book
Feb0
I wanted to comment ‘So do I’ but didn’t have to. He knew.
Two minutes later he was turning left on Colfax crossing Riverside and about to cross Moorpark when we noticed the road was closed due to bridge reconstruction. Whitey mumbled something I heard as “Same but different.” I told him to turn right and we’d go down Laurel Canyon.
He dropped me off and said: “Get some sleep and call Angel Eyes.” He knew where my thoughts were.
First thing I did was go to the computer, open a new Word page and type Same But Different. This article would be about love, one of my favorite topics. I had an in with a woman’s magazine that published one of my stories. The log line was :Love… incredible, one moment pure magic and five minutes later pfft. Tonight’s tale would evolve from the garden of love that needs to be nurtured. Its thirst satisfied, days warmed with sunshine and the weeds of temptation kept distant, and above all be allowed to grow. I was toying with thoughts such as: Without love we do not have the precious beginning of evolution. I wondered if a reader would discover the play of words. Something told me I needed more thought and was happy to hear my phone ring.
My heart pounded. “Hi Missey.”
“How’d you know it was me?”
“I programmed you in.”
Her pause carried weight. “I’m going to bed now and I feel uncomfortable even saying that to you.”
“I understand. It takes time for friendship to truly evolve.” Wow… I was liking this. “Thanks for calling. I won’t keep you up.”
“I work in the morning. Over the hill tomorrow.”
It was difficult not to say ‘be careful’ but I had to say something from the heart. “I’ll be thinking about you. Would you call me when you have the time?”
Again her pause had weight. “I suppose.” More weight. “Yes, sure. I can do that. I’ll call you at lunch.”
“Thank you. Goodnight Sweetie.”
“Okay.” She hung up.
My excitement of a simple conversation was evident as I swung around in my chair like a child… that excitement… we never loose it. And, bed sounded good to me also. As I stood and stretched I noticed the list of unusual occurrences I had for Whitey… the last being the missing tapes. I felt that biting at me and I hoped it wasn’t going to become another headache and I rolled my head in a circle several times to relieve or only because it felt good… I didn’t know. That took me walking or pacing while saying “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.” I looked at my guitar. Whitey put it out here for this reason. I picked it up, flipped on the tape recorder, fingered a few G and C chords and sang. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. Anymore. Anymore. “ I clicked off the recorder and said almost as an aside: “I really don’t.” I played a couple of my favorites, Help Me Make It Through The Night by Kris Kristofferson and Life Turned Her That Way by Harlan Howard. I preferred my versions of both and I love Kristofferson. Enough. I put the guitar down.
Something was still bugging me and suddenly I realized what it was. I keep my appointment book on my desk unless I have to take it with me… addresses, numbers, notes, directions, and whatever else. I usually noted when I was to see Teri and checked it. I had listed the last several times we met… and probably more, but what caught my eye was that I also noted she gets a mani/pedi weekly at Salon in Beverly Hills.
