Next time I followed her when she went out after dinner. Where was she going? I followed her with my lights off at first. I turned them on when we were in traffic. It was a craze of lights, colored lights, yellow, ice blue of the newer LEDs on cars. Her lights, red, only one to the rear because she hadn't yet bothered to have the other repaired after her son had a near fatal collision, his fault, he was always getting into accidents, stupid kid ... Kid. He was twenty-four years old, somewhat backward, I'd say. She would say; she told me he was young for his age. Wonder if he'd ever move out.
I watched the one eyed car reel down El Camino. She drove like a drunk, always. Was she on something? Those eyes, those diamond eyes. They said she was on something. Was she seeing phantoms in the light? White, reaching things that crawled over her windows? What was she thinking? Did she think at all? I couldn't imagine what her mind could be like. It was a cold, spooky place in the snow mountains where billions of stars rang with song. They were singing now, even as we drove. Marina, Marina, show us your concertina. I could see her head weaving from behind. As lights passed her hair blazed with unreal color. Where was she going? Where was she going? Marina, where are you going? They sang, the lights, the night lights. Strange how dazzling bright the night is, tovaritch. And yet you felt safe nearly taking a woman in a doorway, certainly kissing with the drool running down your chins and your hips crashing together. Ah, would that it were true, the two of us, grinding at each other in the blazing night, right there in the dooryard where that Party hack was shot to bits, there was still blood there, huge drops, a hand print. When the lights played over it a hand seemed to rise in warning. Please do not watch them. They need their privacy in the foreplay.
She parked in a lot behind the Food Street. Went in the rear entrance of Henry's, a high rolling alcoholic bar I hate. Why would she go to Henry's? To be picked up? I'd pick her up. First I'd front her for dinner and drinks and then fuck her in my car. No. Her car.
She was seated alone at a table. I pretended to head for the bar, then looked over. She was staring at me. Staring with her diamond eyes. I went over.
"Are you expecting someone?"
She smiled lazily. Disappointed? Bored? I don't know.
A waitress brought her a drink, something blue in a martini glass. I ordered my usual wine.
"What are you drinking?"
"I don't know," she said. "It looked pretty so I order one."
"Didn't they tell you what it is?"
She looked at me with that enigmatic gaze, I loved it.
"Want to taste it?"
I sprang a boner, I really don't know why. Yes, I do.
She didn't hand the drink to me. I had to serve myself and I was almost fool enough to take some. (Rule #1: Never take a drink from a suspect.) I sniffed at it and faked a sip.
"Hmm. I still don't know what it is."
When the barmaid came with my wine I groped her ass. She expected that and winked.
"What is this stuff?" I asked her, winking with my right eye so as to mirror her, to become a mirror friend.
"Nobody knows," she said breathily.
"OK."
I turned to Marina and grasped her hands. She didn't resist at all.
"So. How are you?"
"I'm good. I am always good."
"Not always," I corrected her. "You cried the day they took your son to the clink. I saw you crying in the driveway. I didn't know you then, so I made no effort to embrace you, to comfort you, even though I thought you might like that. Would you have liked that?"
"I don't know. I don't remember."
"It might have been the right time to bring you into my house and offer to feed you. I would make Panang beef with coconut rice. You wouldn't eat it because you would be too upset. What did he do, by the way?"
She shook her head. It was too awful to discuss. Or too embarrassing. He was a stupid kid.
I felt I should withdraw my hands and did so.
We had dinner together, right there at Henry's. We even danced a little. I had gotten a bit sloshed. I dropped my hand so that it touched her ass while we were dancing. She acted like that was normal in America. When we got back to the complex she shook my hand and went in.
The door was in my face. It had a curious brass head on it, a head with a ring coming out of its ears. This served as a knocker, I suppose. Otherwise it was just a dumb thing to be on a door.
