Nathan Washington Ferree

     My belt buckle clicks on the cold linoleum tiled floor and I crawl into bed, flies all buzzin at the widow.  I reach across the lumpy bed covers and push the cracked window open an inch. The flies buzz out to the neon sign on the building next door. Flashing Pete's Discotheque in the steamy street, a beacon in the night for the flies of the world.  But its not happenin' down there, not tonight.  I guess old Pete goes to bed early on Tuesdays.  You'd think I could get to sleep in peace without the frenzied rhythm and spaced out voices.  I got too much on my mind and I wish that noise were there to distract me.  
     Rolled in this morning 'bout 7:30 and it was already nasty hot.  The guy let me off at the Texaco station just off the interstate.  I watched him put gas in his car, super premium in an '84 Honda Civic.  He was a weird dude not scary or anything just everyday Joe weird.  He had placemats on the floor where the regular floormats go.  They had flowers and stuff all over them.  Told me he got them in the divorce, said his mother-in-law had given them to he and his wife for Christmas one year.  Then he laughed.  Just some odd little guy with a big grudge on his ex-wife but he let me ride all the way from Athens so he's cool with me.
     Its been a long dirty day in this one Discotheque town.  Tried all morning to get a hold of Shirley, phoned the apartment and the studio I even went over there but no one was around.  Hope she's not out of town.  
     I didn't feel like tracking her down too hard so I took a lunch with all the fat pigeons and squirrels in the park.  I got a paper, two 75 cent hotdogs and a Big Slurp from the Texaco.  Munching on my L's and A's I was just thumbing through seeing what's going on in the world and I found an add for this place.  Fifty bucks a week, just a whole to crash in but  that's exactly what I need.  I've had my fill of road and rail for a little while I think.  For a time I thought I would never get off the highway.  Right now I just want to fall asleep.
     I left home almost 18 too sick of school to stay those last couple months.  I didn't handle dad dying very well and mom didn't care much.  He left me some money in the will and I just hit the road with it.  Should've never left it in my name.  I thought about joining the navy or the circus.  Just wanted to get out and travel, out to sea and see and see and see.  I'm damn glad I didn't.  I saw plenty.

     Woke up on the floor a little while ago this morning stuffed between the creaky single bed and the wall.  I roll a lot in my sleep especially when its hot.  The smelly shag covering the linoleum around the bed was all pressed into my sweaty skin.  I washed my pink and bumby face in the brown stained sink, no shower in the place.  
     Ten a.m. two cups of coffee and a jelly-filled later:
     "Hello Shirley, Is that you?"
     "Jack? Wha what the hell? I thought you were in San Francisco? Wait where are you?"
     "You know.  You know I'm here. You can tell can't you? We always did have this connection."     
     "Yeah, I felt a great disturbance in the force  yesterday."
     "Ha, so not only did you know I was here just now on the phone but you could feel it when I got here yesterday." I always probe Shirley to admit her cosmic abilities.
     "Don't read too much into it. I just didn't expect to hear from you. Wait, look I have to meet someone for lunch and I have to get some things done first.  But hey, stop by the studio maybe around two.  Is that O.K.?  I can't believe you're here."
     "Sure that's all right.  I can't believe I'm here either."
     "So I'll see you then?"
     "Sure," I hang up the phone and decide to wash out my extra pair of underwear in the sink before going out to lunch.  All you need on the road is a couple pairs of drawers and a few bucks.  
     I pass the rest of the time playing chess in the park with an old gangster named Freddy.  He kicked my ass twice and after that I figured it was time to head over to Shirley's.
     
     Concrete steps and wrought iron railings up to the second floor which is really only half a story above the sidewalk.  A small square landing at the top with a neglected plant in the corner and silver wind chimes dangling from a low awning.  I wonder if she's back yet.  I bet I'm early.  I push the golden doorbell button and peer in through the diamond window in the door.  Light from the hallway at back mixes with daylight from the front windows.  A strip of violet carpet runs across the wood floor from the door into the hallway.  I knock and try the knob.  It yields and I step into Shirley's world.  Paintings hang on the wall like watchdogs prowling.  Its been over a year and a half since I've been here.  She was just setting up and I was still setting out to find myself.  Did I?  I don't know.  Do you ever?  
     There's a small leather couch in one corner.  In the another corner there's a lighted mirror with an old fashioned dentist chair in front.  A pair of scissors rests on a wood shelf like a peice of art underneath the mirror.  I take a seat on the couch.  Should be here any minute.
     Shirls must be doing all right for herself.  I never understood the art stuff too well. She was always into going to museums and spending hours just looking at one painting but I just couldn't get into that.  Maybe that's why I couldn't stick around here.  No I think it was pretty much inevitable.  These are probably her clients paintings though.  I don't think she picks up a brush anymore unless to run it through someone's hair.  But who knows?  People change.  
     She once told me that a person's hair is the vissible portion of their soul.    
     A car door shuts outside.  Footsteps and fumbling keys up the stairs.  In the lock a useless click.
     "Damn it I can't even remember to look my door these days." a familiar voice with a tinge of stress.  
     A soft chime enters with the woman I left the road for.  Just act cool like you're not supposed to be here.  
     "Jack God you're not supposed to be here yet."  She sets down a twine handled paper sack and points a gorgeous index finger at my face.  "You just about scared me."
     "You mean I didn't?"
     "How are you?" She's wearing a simple dress with flowers.  She moves toward me.  I stand up letting my eyes trail up her body to her own soft blues, know she can feel it.  Still so fine.
     "Fine, fine I've been doing good.  How have you been?"
     The angles of her open arms are pure grace.  "Life's been good." she says.  I don't have to move she puts her arms around my neck and presses carefully into me.  She speaks softly in my ear, "Would you like some tea?"  Savoring her voice I say nothing.     
     She leans back easing the positive pressure between our bodies.  "Coffee?"
     "Sure."
     We slip apart and she moves toward the hall.  "It will take a bit.  I usually only have a couple cups in the morning."  She walks with the confidence of familiar territory. I follow at a safe distance into the back room where she has the coffee maker and a small fridge and the bottles of exotic shampoo.
     "What's your story Jack?" she asks, her eyes in the freezer.  She pulls out a bag of gourmet coffee and doesn't look at me.
     I lean back on a high counter that creaks.
     "I went to see my mom."
     "You did?  Jack that's good.  How was it?"  She opens the coffee slowly.
     "Oh you know."
     She looks up from the coffee.  Truth seeking eyes.
     "It was tense."
     "Yeah?"
     "I got to Tucson.  I found her place and I, I almost couldn't go through with it."
     "You did though?"  She puts the coffee in the filter.  I'd have added another scoop.
     "I was there and I just made myself do it.  We went to dinner, didn't talk about dad or any of that stuff.  Just bullshit tabloid articles, her new age faith, relatives I'd forgotten.  It was weird.  She's got a boyfriend now."
     "Did you meet him?"
     "No, he wasn't around, out on business she said.  He's from Texas, some kind of lawyer.  I split a couple of hours after dinner.  Had to catch my train.  It was good though. It was all right."
     She flips on the red power switch and smiles at me.  "So, now you're here."
     "I hitched in from Athens.  Got in day before yesterday."
     "How long?"
     "What?"
     "How long are you here for?"
     "I don't know?  I got myself a hole on 12th street, for a while anyway."
     "Really?" she draws it out smiling at the floor.
     We talk on about her life and my journey while the coffee bubbles.  We skip over the shared parts of our pasts.  The coffee stops, waiting in it's warm glass pot.  We take
steaming cups into the front.  We sit apart but she leans slightly toward me.  Her elbow resting on the back of the couch, her hand within reach of my head.  She never could resist.  She pushes her slender fingers gently through the dark tangles of my unkempt road hair.  
     "Jack?"
     "Yes?"
     "Can I cut your hair?"
          "Sure."