3.17.97

St Patricks Day

Woke up at 7:30 this morning to broadcasts of parades and celebrations and was reminded that today is my parent's 40'th anniversary. Moments after that, I was at Circle K and Shannon's sister was working there.
--That's a long time to like each other, she said. -- They didn't like each other for most of it, I said.

Late this evening I stop by Knuckleheads, the new local tobacco shop/tattoo parlor around the corner from my house. I'd been there once before with Shannon because it was the only place open at midnight where she could buy Drum. Chris needed to get some American Spirit. I was happy to get another chance to see the place. I know a couple of people who work there, and they've invited me to come and see them. Chris has just picked me up because my car has died at the grocery store and I'm asking the clerk ("This job would be great if it weren't for the customers!") about the different colored packs of certain smokes when I hear the voice say, "Oh! Chris! Hi!"

It's Shannon. I feel the scent of her skin in my stomach before I even turn around. I have 2 seconds to figure out how to react. I cannot count the thoughts that are flying through my head...the irony... the discomfort... the bitter confusion. I finally turn around and face her and, avoiding her pale posture give her a hug.
She reluctantly hugs me back. I tell her I'm moving soon. She tells me she knows. When I ask how she knows that, she points at Chris, who is investigating the bongs with a studied nonchalance I apologize for calling her so early the other day, and she quickly leaves, climbs in a pick-up with two guys I don't know and leaves me to smell her on my shirt all night.

I was in a good mood before that . I decide it's time to drink.

Chris says -- Well, at least you have a reason to drink tonight.

I say -- People who need a reason to drink shouldn't.

I wonder where I fit in that reasoning. At best somewhere in the middle, I guess.

Last night Kerrie actually introduced me to her son. Two weeks ago she explained that she does not let the men she dates know her son. Her reasoning is valid and quite respectable. Her son has a father. He does not to see men coming and going out of his mothers life. He does not need the confusion.

Then, she is sitting in my kitchen with this beautiful little boy on her lap. -- Warren meet my son, she says. -- Hi, 'my son', I say accidentally, meaning only the pun which I think she misunderstood.
When the kid begins screaming and crying from apparent sickness and Kerrie takes him out on the front porch to settle him down, I'm left with her old lover Tara who will not look me in the eye.

--He looks just like her, I say.

--You never saw David before? She is surprised.

--Never even a picture, I say.

That child's thin blonde hair and wise eyes are stuck in my head as Martina introduces me to her new boyfriend tonight. He seems ok. Jack. He's a drummer in a local thrash band I actually like. He's hanging out with some fucker who's decided that Chris and I aren't quite "enough" to be seen in his presence. I tell Martina that Jack seems cool enough but his friend's an asshole and she understands but tries to explain why I'm wrong and it's just a natural first impression. It's not. Chris feels it as well He goes even further to make an exact comparison to a guy we once knew. We debate sending him a lifetime subscription to GQ, then realize he probably already has one.

At some point Martina asks me what's wrong. I spit out the story of seeing Shannon tonight. She holds my shoulders and says - You deserve better than her. You really do.

She is wrong.

I was telling Chris about the odd meeting with Kerrie's son last night as we entered the tobacco shop. I was trying to find words to explain the soul I saw in that child's eyes, the intimidation I felt, the way his presence felt like a torch against my candle. Right about then was when Shannon walked in. I could say no more about it.

Later, in the car I said -- This is fucked.

Chris said -- Here's my thought on this shit. Everything happens for a reason. But there's no reason why it happens

I cannot argue.

wwood