11

I left my office just before the lunch rush in order to meet Jennifer at her place of employment. It was located just off of a main artery on a street that was home to mostly multi-family homes and an old cemetery that dated back to the Revolutionary War. It was quieter in this part of town than what I had grown accustomed to from being a resident of Oak Street, and it was a nice, tranquil start to what I hoped to be an incredible bite to eat with Jennifer.

I parked the car and heard “Pop Goes the Weasel” blaring behind me. I turned to find, not an ice cream truck, but Clea working her moneymaker on the sidewalk as a group of horny men pawed at her. I walked by the noisy hooker and made eye contact. She waved me over, pushing the men to the side.

“This idea of yours is working great,” she told me enthusiastically. “Had I known this shit was the way to makin’ money, I’d have gotten myself a theme song long ago.”

“Good,” I said to her, noticing that her lip pustule had taken on an almost frighteningly large metamorphous. “I’m glad it’s working out for you.”

“It’s workin’ so ballsin’ good that Mr. Pops himself was threatenin’ to sue my ass. I told that cocksucker that that he didn’t own no rights to Pop Goes the fuckin’ Weasel. Give me a fuckin’ break, right?”

“You’re safe, I’m sure,” I told her. “That song doesn’t belong to anybody, so just keep doing your thing.”
“You’re damn right I will and ain’t nobody gonna tell me what to do.”

I left Mrs. Pops to business and soon found the building that Jennifer’s store was located in and noticed a sign that read, “Gold’s Artificial Limbs.” I could see why Jennifer called them medical supplies instead of specifying the exact variety.

I walked into the store and was greeted by an old man that resembled Geppetto, the father of the wooden boy who learned that lying wasn’t a good route to take. Dressed in overalls and twirling a white mustache with his fingers, the man that seemed to be torn form the pages of a children’s fairy tale asked if he could help me.

“And browsing for what, can I ask? I see you have all of your working parts, so you can’t be in here looking for a replacement.”
“No,” I admitted, smiling at old man that looked better suited in the role of a cobbler than as a medical supply salesman. “I’m actually here to see Jennifer. I’m taking her to lunch this fine sunny day.”
“I know. Sit down. She’s just finishing up a few things. I’m Mr. Gold by the way.”
“As in Gold’s Artificial Limbs?”
“One and the same.”
“I’m Drago.”
Mr. Gold snickered underneath the protection of his snowy white mustache. “So why do you live in that meshuga house?” he asked.
Mr. Gold looked at me suspiciously as I did my best to look inconspicuous in the wake of his forward question. He asked if I was “meshuga” and when I told him that I didn’t know what that was, he explained to me that it was a Yiddish word meaning crazy. I assured him that I wasn’t and that the house had a certain amount of romantic appeal to me.
“That sounds meshuga to me,” he said, before going into a number of stories about how he had lived in the neighborhood for sixtyfive years and how his business was the only one never to be robbed. “What would they do with an artificial limb, slap each other on the backs for a job well done?”
I laughed at the old man, who admitted his sense of humor was just as vibrant now as it was when he was twenty years old. He told me how beautiful the neighborhood once was all those years ago when he was a boy and how you could have eaten off of the sidewalks at one point because it was so clean. I was going to inform him that people were still eating off the sidewalks regardless of how dirty they were, but I thought it better to sit back and let him spew his stories.
After a few more minutes of walking down memory lane, Mr. Gold started in with the interrogation, asking me questions about my life. He asked me if I went to college and I told him yes. He asked me about my business and he seemed genuinely impressed when I went into my work history, but at the same time he questioned my motives for being a successful businessman living in a part of town that most sought to avoid.
“So what is a man such as yourself doing living there?” he blurted out.
“I needed a change,” I said. “I needed something that I couldn’t find in the suburbs.”
“Sounds meshuga to me, but you seem nice. I just hope you are a good man underneath all of the niceness you give off. Jennifer is a special girl and I wouldn’t want to see anything bad happen to her.”
I assured Mr. Gold that my intentions were honorable and that he had nothing to worry about. That was the first time I had ever said something along those lines and actually meant it and that alone was a giant leap forward for me in terms of my personal dealings in relationships. Though I had only known her a few days, Jennifer was someone I wanted to explore a true romance with to the maximum. What did it mean to give yourself to someone completely? That was an answer I had yet to discover in life, but I had a feeling that I was closer to finding it out for myself than I had ever been before.
Jennifer appeared from the back of the artificial limb store wearing a gigantic smile, a white lace top with pink trim, and a pair of slim black jeans that hugged her body like a second skin. The outfit complimented her feminine side without being overly sexy, and that alone made her more appealing. She had the ability to ignite a fire inside me and she did it without the help of the usual trappings that I’ve come to expect from women—cleavage, skin, sluttiness and more cleavage. Jennifer was herself and I loved her for that.
“Hey,” I said to her, genuinely happy to see her again.
“Hey to you too,” she responded.
We exited the shop and stepped out onto the sidewalk where we were warmly welcomed by the ultimate summer day. The temperature sat at a comfortable location on the thermometer and the sun hung pressed against a cloudless canvas of blue. I thought about saying something clever about the weather, but all I could come up with were worn out clichés that would have just dulled the moment.
Jennifer froze when we made it outside, plugging herself into the world and choosing to take in every piece of her surroundings, from those of Mother Nature, to those built by man. She connected to everything in a way that I thought impossible. She was grounded, but floating through the atmosphere at the same time, and I stood and watched her, amazed at every wonderful part of her. She made me want to be a better person and she did it without motivation or without even trying.
We started walking and instead of taking control of the situation like I would have in the past with other girls, I instead concentrated on following her lead. We passed by a Burger King filled to the brim with hungry lunch-goers looking to ingest their daily caloric intake in one sitting. I shivered comically, telling her about a recent traumatic experience I had at a similar fast food establishment.
“It was last week,” I told her. “Before I tell you the story, I just wanted to say that in my defense, I didn’t get much sleep the night before.”
“Oh just tell me,” she said, laughing in anticipation.
“I went through the drive-thru and thought that one of those new fangled garbage cans with the long snout was an ordering window and I drove up, put down the window and said, ‘I’ll take a number four with a Diet Coke.’”
“No you didn’t,” she said gasping in embarrassment, covering her mouth with her hands.
“Wait,” I stopped her. “It gets better. So I sat there for a minute and then another minute until finally the guy behind me starts honking his horn. I turn back to see what all of the commotion is and he yells out to me, ‘Yo, moron, you’re talking to the garbage can!’”
Jennifer laughed and said, “I see the clown is out today.” I felt my face go flush, but I’ve been told there’s something special about a person that can make fun of and laugh at himself. I must have been the most special person in the world because I did a lot of making fun of myself around Jennifer.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“I drove out of line as fast as I could and hid under my bed for the rest of the afternoon!”
“Drago, do these things really happen to you?”
“Well, for the sake of the story I added the whole hiding-underthe-bed part, but the rest is true. I’m a magnet for the absurd.”
Jennifer lightly poked me in the side with her finger and asked, “Should I be scared about hanging around you then?”
“Nah. It keeps life interesting.”
We entered a sandwich shop that Jennifer couldn’t stop raving about and sauntered up to the counter, eyeballing the list of sandwiches on the wall in hopes of deciding what we wanted by the time we were called on to order. With pressure mounting as the line thinned in front of us, I opted to go with something simple that came highly recommended by Jennifer—a turkey wrap with Swiss, banana peppers and honey mustard. She chose the same.
After having our meal and a pair of Diet Cokes brown bagged, we left the shop and headed for a nearby park that was known for being dangerous in the evening, but in the day it was filled with mostly workers taking a break from the daily grind. As we walked I reached out and grabbed Jennifer’s hand, even though I questioned what her reaction would be when I made the junior high level move. To my surprise she actually squeezed my hand firmly in response and we stayed connected the entire trip to our final lunchtime destination.
The small park was filled with litter and did not have the abundance of greenery that you’d expect out of an area of land preserved for public recreation. It wasn’t the park’s fault that its best assets were a few scattered bushes and a stretch of burned, yellow grass. The city obviously had other places to put their money than an urban woodland setting in a seemingly-forgotten block of Boston.
There were a few mothers enjoying the outdoors with their children, but mostly the park was filled with people sitting by themselves, blank stares cemented to their faces. I knew that particular look well because I had it myself every day for ages. It’s the look of discontent, work weariness and detachment. I sympathized with each and every sad face in attendance that day.
Jennifer and I found an empty bench spray painted with familiar tags. I had seen that same work on the billboards I had hired Jamal to vandalize, so I knew it was his crew that had left their mark behind. We sat and unraveled our sandwiches from their white paper wrappings and flip-flopped between bites and conversation.
“Mr. Gold asked me a lot of questions when I was in there waiting for you,” I told her. “He really cares about you. It’s unique for a boss to care at all for an employee these days, so you’re lucky.”
“He’s great,” she said. “I’ve been working there for a long time now and he’s always been good to me. He calls me the daughter that he’s never had and that means a lot.”
“I can’t imagine you get a lot of foot traffic in there.”
“Yeah, I feel bad. He really doesn’t get much business anymore. Doctors are buying directly from the manufacturers on the Internet.”
“Why doesn’t he just retire?” I asked after swallowing a bite.
“He always says he’s going to when one of us has a place to go. So far neither of us has been able to turn that into a reality.”
I was really falling hard for Jennifer. She poured sincerity into every word she spoke and her eyes sparkled with an energy that even the black hole of the ‘hood around us couldn’t extinguish.
“So, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve decided to read you one of my poems,” she told me.
“Mind? Are you kidding me? I’d love to hear some of your writing.”
“It’s called, ‘The Universe Is Bare and Bountiful.’”
Jennifer smiled as if for the first time she felt validated to be a writer. She pulled a folded piece of paper out of the pocket of her black jeans and opened it like a road map. She cleared her throat and began reading at a slow, hypnotic pace. She pronounced each word perfectly, giving individual life to each syllable.
“A lone green leaf
Wavered back and forth
In the summer breeze
And when the sunlight
Buttered the round leaf
Green electricity emerged
And I shut my eyes
Bringing this jade aura
To the pitch black canvas
Whereupon the darkness became outer space
And white sparkles became stars
The universe was bare and bountiful”
She finished her poem and returned the piece of paper to her pocket.
“That was beautiful,” I told her. “I wouldn’t even try to interpret it because I wouldn’t do it justice.”
“It’s hard to explain,” she said.
“That’s a good thing. In fact, in your case, that’s a great thing.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“For what?”
“For initiating conversation with me the other day. I’m happy you came into my life.”
“I’m happy you’ve accepted me.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes staring into each other’s eyes, letting the romantic silence of two would-be lovers rule the moment. Jennifer then looked like she was about to say something important to me.
“The first day we met, you mentioned your land in Pennsylvania. You said you had no one to share the beauty with. I wanted to tell you that having no one to share my poetry with also made me sad and feel empty,” she said as a tear rolled down her cheek.
I took Jennifer’s hand and told her that she was beautiful. She smiled and the meditative look on her face quickly changed to that of a happy child.
“So does your car go real fast?” she asked enthusiastically.
“As fast as you want her to go.”
“You’re one of those guys that refers to his car as a woman, huh?”
“She’s got curves and she knows how to use them, Jennifer. I’d be insulting her if I referred to her as anything else.”
“Could you take me for a ride in HER someday? I’d love to see what it feels like to go fast.”
“Absolutely. I’ll even promise to get at least one speeding ticket on said ride.”
“Can we go to the ocean?” she asked like an excited child.
“I think I can arrange that. If you’re free this Saturday, we can give it a try. I hear it’s supposed to be just as beautiful as today.”
“I have no plans.”
“Then we have ourselves a plan,” I said as I stared at the wonderful enigma who sat beside me.
Jennifer seemed happy being in my company and I adored every moment of my time with her. Her ever-present inner light was aweinspiring. It was as if she was in a constant dream state and she was totally down to earth at the same time. I was convinced that she could see things normal people couldn’t see and I wanted her to help open my eyes to those things. She was as playful as a child and as wise as a sage.
I looked up at the sunlight as it filtered down from the heavens, lighting up Jennifer’s angelic face as if she was the holy grail of girls. She shone like a diamond and I felt the moment overtake me. I moved toward her slowly and gently pressed my lips against hers. Jennifer closed her eyes and I could feel the pressure of her lips on my own. It was innocent, yet exhilarating.
Time was growing short and Jennifer needed to get back to work. Also, I was due at my house at two to finish paying Jamal for the job he did on the Moakley billboards. I walked her back to Mr. Gold’s shop and kissed her a second time, once again taking a page out of a preteen’s book and opting to go the sweet route minus the tongue. I could tell that something wonderful was blossoming right before my eyes and I sensed she felt the same thing. I had already begun to count the minutes until our drive to the beach on Saturday.