2 a.m.


In the dark, beyond the hedge, the Lady Who Lives in Walgreens was outside of Walgreens. I came near tripping over her. Over her wheelchair. You’ve got to pay some attention, out in the world, it’s not like in your home. No autopilot here. There could be a lady in a wheelchair, in the dark, just beyond the hedge.

I tried to play it off, pretend, act as though I hadn’t really nearly tripped over her and over her wheelchair. I said, “Hi!” I said, “What are you doing out here?”

She said, “The night manager doesn’t come ‘til 2.”

I was not sure if that was responsive.

The streetlights, though making the nighttime navigable, to the extent it is navigable, what with all the nearly tripping, turns street scenes to sickly orange. Sure, you won’t notice it much, not normally, no, but snap a picture, look at it later on, all you’ll see is sickly orange.

She said, “I’m waiting on the mere emperor and watching the stars.”

I said, “The ‘mere emperor’?”

She said, “Or.”

I was not sure if that was responsive. There are no stars, not in the Houston sky at night, or maybe just three, or maybe, on a clear night of exceptional clearness, of clarity, twice a year at tops, four. This was not a clear night.

I handed her a bag of Lays which are potato chips. Western Coast truffle fries flavored. Her favorite, I knew. I sat on the curb and I unclicked my wine.

She said, “Are you sad?” Her mouth was chomping chips now.

I said, “I am trying to write. I said I’d write a blog post. I said I’d write about my other persons. Personas. I am failing. This post we’re in, you and me, right now, this is me failing.”

She shrugged and watched for stars. All I heard now, to be honest, was that chomping, the sound of eating being the primary of my many pet peeves, as they are called, for some reason. It even drowned out the other sounds, the ones I knew had to be there but unheard, among which I will list the cars zooming past Kroger, the shadowed men off arguing somewhere, the giggle of well-coiffed suburban kids making their way to the clubs, and pigeons.

The Lady Who Lives in Walgreens said, “I used to dance. It’s not something you can tell someone how to do. Or when. Not really. If I wanted to dance, I danced. If I didn’t, I didn’t.” I was not sure if that was responsive.

I drank and the Lady Who Lives in Walgreens chomped and when she said, “There!” I looked up just in time to see, in a break in the clouds, the long green streak of a shooting star.

She said, “See? I told you. Stars.”

Comments

  1. Replies
    1. Oh, wait a minute. I detect a pattern . . . previous stories entitled "Midnight" and "1 a.m." now this one entitled "2 a.m." . . . we're getting an hourly blow-by-blow account of your dark night of the soul, aren't we. Looking forward to "3 a.m."

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    2. Less St. John of the Cross than... well, a confession of some sort, probably. I set out to write about the other characters I've blogged as. I'll get there.

      I tend to write in groups of 7 (or sometimes 8) posts, somehow thematically linked, hopefully. Except when I try too hard.

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  2. I just typed a rantoid thing about my relationship with potato chips, and the "connection was reset" and then it was gone. Short version: I don't often eat them but I used to sell them a lot. And new flavors were a big deal. And I've never heard of Western Coast truffle fries flavor before, but it has been many years since I worked in the wholesale business, so I guess that's not surprising.
    Perhaps you are not failing at telling the story. Perhaps the story is being picky about how it wants to be told. I think I read Kurt Vonnegut say that about one of his books that he had a hard time finishing. I don't remember which one.
    Anyway, I really enjoyed your brother's music once I got it all to play, so thank you for it.

    -Doug in Oakland

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    Replies
    1. Chips are sort of my weakness. I don't eat sweets - it's been years since I've eaten ice cream or cake - but if I have chips in my house, I'll eat the whole bag in one sitting. So I don't keep them in my house anymore.

      Vonnegut's "Timequake" is a great example of a book he couldn't finish and then chopped up to make something new out of. It's my favorite by him, even though I don't think it's considered one of his greats.

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  3. Many times the slice of life post is a grabber. Sitting the curb, sucking down a container of wine, white the wheel chair lady eats potato chips--that is a great slice of life.

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    Replies
    1. Thanks, haha. Generally, when I go into a story where I drink on a street corner, it's one of the rare times I get negative feedback from readers. I suppose the social acceptability of such behavior sort of... depends on one's neighborhood.

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  4. I dance like the Lady. Prefer plainer crisps. Love this failure.
    Stars :-)
    Where I live is good dark sky territory, but not good for wheelchairs. You might stumble upon a badger and that might have a limp and a bad tractor story.
    I shouldn't be glad that it's 2 a.m. and you're out drinking wine on the street, but I am, sorry... A complement to your writing though :-)

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    1. Thank you! My aunt and uncle once lived in the middle of nowhere, Louisiana. When we went out there, I was shocked by how many stars were visible with the naked eye. It's like an entirely different sky.

      I'm not lying when I say that we can generally see about four stars in Houston, at least near downtown, where I am.

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  5. It's sort of sad how people can never truly understand that there are an uncountable amount of human lifestyles. This was a fantastic piece that told about a lady living a way I could never imagine.

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    Replies
    1. It somehow turned out better than I expected.

      The lady hasn't been around the past week or so. I need to ask a cashier if they know where she went.

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  6. The wonders we see when we watch and wait and dance (and write) when we want... I really like the voice of the lady, her freedom of being.

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    Replies
    1. Hi, Magaly! I try not to over-romanticize the unsheltered, but after having interacted with them (at work, because of my job, and in my home life), sometimes they make for the best stories and lessons learned.

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  7. Walgreens often takes inspiration from Walmart with customers.

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    1. I witnessed a nasty argument between a cashier and a customer a few days back. It was all about whether a variety of gum was buy-one-get-one-free. Eventually, the person behind the gum lady offered to pay the difference, just to get through line.

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  8. Are you still enamored with Huma? or was that just Katy? I just finished watching Margaret Brennan and thought about you. So I dropped in to check. Of COURSE the Lady in the wheelchair is a dancer. I dance, too. Me and Phil Collins. "The streetlights, ... turns street scenes to sickly orange." Love the visuals. Thanks.
    beej in TN

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    Replies
    1. Hi, beej. I think Huma might be one of those topics I can only admit when I'm writing as other people. Still, a while back I watched her in the documentary, "Weiner," where she starts so enthusiastically and ends up hiding in their apartment, ordering takeout pizza, and I think I'm going to stand by that old post of, well, Katy's.

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  9. I miss the stars....I dream of them sometimes and in my mind I am standing on my pillow lookiing out my port hole window watching the endless stream of diamonds in the sky. Two or three at most where we are as well. And yet, I know they are up there looking down on us poor pitiful humans. Happy stargazing to you and the lady who lives in Walgreens.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks. I used to mention that the sky only had a couple stars visible here and people on the blog would think I was kidding. Apparently, the crowd who comes to my page is more urban now than before.

      I like cloud-gazing, though, and I can see clouds in the Houston sky, so that's something.

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  10. What aisle of Walgreens? Is she more of a "seasonal knick knacks" dweller, or is she a foot cream aisle lady? Is this your way of saying that you're not going to finish the tale of the multiple personalities and rather, are going to indulge where whimsy takes you? It's your blog, chase the stars, I suppose.

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    Replies
    1. Usually, she's right there, like in the picture. Sitting by the photo department.

      I am going to finish my story. I have too much invested in it not to finish now. I'm just trying to figure out a way to tell it where it's interesting, because the truth is not all that interesting.

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  11. I like how this ended Harry, with the shooting star! Or, it could be a beginning too!

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    Replies
    1. Hi, Stacy. Good to see you're around.

      I've planned out a chunk of posts - maybe four more to add to the four I have recently posted - and I'm hoping that I bring everything together. We'll see. I'm really trying.

      Delete
  12. I enjoyed this slice of life. It was very satisfying, Harry. Thank you.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you, Mr. Shife. The less time I spend planning them, the better they turn out, apparently. Which gives me pause about the one coming up.

      Delete
  13. Ironic how the HQ for NASA is in a city that blocks out the stars. Houston we have a problem.

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    Replies
    1. If we all turned off our lights at the same time, we'd probably see a lot more stars. But that's hard to coordinate, I'll bet.

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  14. I wonder if the lady who lives in Walgreens is writing a blog post about you?

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    Replies
    1. You sort of just blew my mind.

      I want to read her blog, though.

      I should go ahead and assume that everyone at least talks about every single thing that happens to them on twitter, if nothing else.

      Delete
  15. Maybe not on twitter, but Facebook, Snapchat etc. I find my daughters record just about everything they do and who they meet and share it somewhere.

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    1. I have an ex with whom I am facebook friends who I believe I could very easily physically stalk, from 800 miles away, based on her facebook posts, which tell me every store she walks into, every meal she eats, everything she does and when, on an ongoing basis.

      Delete

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