Chapter 46
It was a stiflingly hot Friday the 20th. Cindy was glad not to have any plans for the night. It had been a grueling day. A minor freight-train derailment in Leland. A small fire at the port. A new mixed-use development planned for downtown. Her red dress had become sweat-saturated.
After a much-needed shower, she logged into her Facebook account and sent David a short message, which read:
Hope you’re doing ok.
I got the gift last Monday.
Thanks so much!
Oh, Gerald got a lawyer;
he’s no longer talking.
Well, just checking in.
Take care of yourself.
~ Cindy
David happened to be on Facebook in his Raleigh home at the same time. He quickly responded with:
Glad you got the gift. I was
beginning to think that it had
been stolen or lost in transit.
Well, it gets a little better each
day. Just takes time, I suppose.
So, Gerald lawyered up and
shut up. So typical. Ha-ha.
I’d love to talk again about
our golden topic. Have a nice
weekend. – David
Cindy read it. I knew it; he wants to talk some more with me about his golden quandary. He’s probably already thinking about fucking me. I hope he is. I know he is. He’s probably typing with one hand right now. I won’t rush him, but I don’t want to lose him, either. How many of those gold coins does he have? Will he tell me? He seems comfortable divulging very sensitive information to me. I can tell that he trusts me. Maybe he’s loaded with cash now. How rich has he suddenly become? Hmmmm …. I’m off next Saturday night. Yeah … that’s it ….
Cindy returned fire five minutes later.
How would you like to have dinner
next Saturday evening, the 28th?
We can compare our golden notes.
Cindy rubbed her hands together and smiled. Gosh, I just asked a man out. Am I a liberated American woman now? She found her previous trepidation amusing. She was proud of herself for having enough courage to hit the Enter key.
David saw her message pop up on his screen. He was going crazy in his house the past three nights, looking at pictures of Chantelle over and over again. He was still grieving, feeling as sappy as molasses dripping down a wilted sugar cane stalk on a hot-as-Hades day, just like this one. I’ll never forget Chantelle, but I need a living female to talk to. I can’t go on talking to a ghost. I need to get out of here before I go completely insane.
Sure. Where do I meet you?
Cindy noted his quick reply. He’s lonely … or horny. Probably both. Gosh, men are so darn easy to read. She typed back the place and time.
Engorged on The Walk
8:00 sharp. Don’t be late.
See you then. ~ Cindy
Cindy knew that he would probably quickly respond with another question. She wanted to leave it right there for now. She was feeling drowsy. She logged out and put it on Sleep mode. I’ll check my account tomorrow. That’s enough for now.
Cindy fell asleep once again in her favorite piece of furniture: the Papasan chair. She dreamed that she was introducing David to her parents in Daly City. Low-floating, silvery gray clouds were streaming over their heads at an incredible, unearthly speed. Her mom kept smiling at David, and David just kept smiling back. Her dad was asking her how she met this kano (Filipino slang for an American).
In the strange dream, her dad was holding her field microphone, interviewing her. She was tongue-tied. She was trying to hide her gold coins from her parents. One was under each shoe. She tried to stay still, keeping the coins completely covered by the soles of her tall blue platform shoes. But then, a gust of wind came along and lifted her three feet off the ground. David grabbed her left arm to prevent her from flying away. However, the damage had been done: Her parents had seen the gold coins. They looked at her with such exaggerated consternation. Then a cyclist in an orange jersey rode by, pulling the whole scene away with him; it was being reeled up on his rear wheel’s sprocket, like a take-up film reel in an old movie theater.
When Cindy awoke at 6:45 AM, all she would remember is the look on her mother’s face … and the orange-clad cyclist.