'But you got out of there a few years ago. You were married.'
'To an old hippie. Long hair and fringed buckskin and love beads.
He should have had a 1967 calendar
on his wall. He was locked in the sixties, he never knew they'd ended.' She shook her head. 'He never brought home flowers.
Flowering tops, yes, but not flowers.'
'Flowering tops?'
'The most potent part of the marijuana plant. Cannabis sativa, if you want to be formal. Do you smoke?'
'No.'
'I haven't in years, because I'm afraid it would lead me right back to cigarettes. That's funny, isn't it?
They try to scare you that it'll lead to heroin, and I'm afraid it might lead to tobacco. But I never liked it that much. I never liked feeling out of control.'
The flowers were still there in the morning.
I hadn't intended to stay the night, but then I hadn't planned on dropping in on her in the first place. The hours just slipped away from us. We talked, we shared silences, we listened to music, and to the rain.
I awoke before she did. I had a drunk dream. They're not uncommon, but I hadn't had one in a while.
The details were gone by the time I got my eyes open, but in the dream someone had offered me a beer and I had taken it without thinking. By the time I realized I couldn't do that, I'd already drunk half of it.
I woke up not sure if it was a dream and not entirely certain where I was. It was six in the morning and I wouldn't have wanted to go back to sleep even if I could, for fear of slipping back into the dream. I got up and dressed, not showering to keep from waking her. I was tying my shoes when I felt that I was being watched, and I turned to see her looking at me.
'It's early,' I said. 'Go back to sleep. I'll call you later.'
I went back to my hotel. There was a message for me. Jim Faber had called, but it was far too early to call him back. I went upstairs and showered and shaved, then stretched out on the bed for a minute and surprised myself by dozing off. I hadn't even felt tired, but I wound up sleeping for three hours and woke up groggy.
I took another shower and shook off the grogginess. I called Jim at his shop.
'I missed you last night,' he said. 'I was just wondering how you were doing.'
'I'm fine.'
'I'm glad to hear it. You missed a great qualification.'
'Oh?'
'Guy from Midtown Group. Very funny stuff. He went through a period where he kept trying to kill himself and couldn't get it right. He couldn't swim a stroke, so he rented a flat-bottom rowboat and rowed for miles. Finally, he stood up, said. 'Goodbye, cruel world,' and threw himself over the side.'
'And?'
'And he was on a sandbar. He was in two feet of water.'
'Sometimes you can't do a single thing right.'
'Yeah, everybody has days like that.'
'I had a drunk dream last night,' I said.
'Oh?'
'I drank half a beer before I realized what I was doing. Then I realized, and I felt horrible, and I drank the rest of it.'
'Where was this?'
'I don't remember the details.'
'No, where was it you spent the night?'
'Nosy bastard, aren't you? I stayed over with Willa.'
'That's her name? The super?'
'That's right.'
'Was she drinking?'
'Not enough to matter.'
'Not enough to matter to whom?'
'Jesus Christ,' I said. 'I was with her for about eight hours, not counting the time we slept, and in all that time she had two beers, one with dinner and one after. Does that make her an alcoholic?'
'That's not the question. The question is does it make you uncomfortable.'
'I can't remember when I last spent a more comfortable night.'
'What brand of beer was she drinking?'
