A Leak In The Safe

Snowfall

After lengthy discussion Pam agrees to come back to my hotel room, but only with the firm stipulation that what happens there is not going to be what usually happens between a man and a woman in a hotel room.

And, really, it’s because neither of us can bear to end our conversation, which has been extraordinarily vital and engaging – not a complete surprise – even when we were at loggerheads back in the day there was a weird, volatile chemistry between us. We always had something to say to each other, even if it was just volleying insults back and forth.

The change in location doesn’t seem to affect our rapport, and we go on talking, sitting there at the round hotel table in the uncomfortable hotel chairs, stopping every so often to raid the mini bar.

After a long time there’s a pause, and I realize that it’s gotten quite late and we’ve both drunk more than we intended to. I stand up to stretch out the stiffness and walk to the window.

Damn, look at that, I say. The snow which was just beginning to fall when we pulled in has continued furiously, and the lot is already covered in huge snowdrifts. Nobody is going anywhere tonight.

She comes up beside me and holds back the curtain. Wow.

I touch her arm and our eyes meet.

It’s the George Romero scenario – all off a sudden there are zombies everywhere. I rack my twelve gauge and head over to Virginia’s house, blowing away the creatures I can’t avoid.

On the way it occurs to me that this is simply an especially literal example of what I’ve spent so much time and effort doing – trying to prevent her from becoming one of the living dead herd.

When I get there she’s just sitting and watching the madness out of her window, strangely blase about the whole thing. A group of her transformed jock friends make a concerted lurch for the house, but they’re fairly easy to beat back.

I turn to tell her that we’d better come up with another plan because I’m almost out of shells only to see the back door open as she walks away – now that they’ve taken over she wants to fit in and be a brain eating ghoul like everybody else.

It’s early – ten a.m. – driving in Heather’s station wagon, idly circling the lakes, half heartedly thinking about stopping at the pier, but then trying to follow a train, catching up to it here and there as it thunders overhead above the one way streets, the tape deck blasting Iggy and Van Morrison. Ellen’s been paranoid all morning, suspicious after the sight of a police car way back when, but Heather’s next to her in the front seat, still rolling slim, spare joints on the lined page of the notebook in her lap. Hey, Heather Ellen says, holding a burning number surreptitiously under the wheel. Write this down.

Huh, sure. Heather says, smoothing a clear place on the paper, dope debris and seeds cascading to the floor. Wait…hold on a minute. Where’s that pen? After much pocket and purse rifling it’s found on the seat between Heather’s legs. O.K., O.K., go ahead.

Heather says, doodling spirals on the paper. It’s my car. Nobody cares.

Ellen slows at the intersection then comes to a conspicuously complete stop at the stop sign. Besides, that stuff costs money. Just because we’ve got a bunch at the moment doesn’t mean you can throw it around. Slowly she turns left and heads up the hill. If you think for…

Jane interrupts, leaning up between the seats from the back. What did you want her to write down, anyway?

Oh, yeah, wait a minute. I’ve got to… The car turns and accelerates down Conservatory. Ready?

Heather nods, pen poised.

Ellen squints, taking a meditative hit on the still lit joint. Here we go:

Then she farts.

Attendant Ruminations

She’s so confident Louis Brooks banged blonde getting silver fish bowl head luscious black jacketed ideal hemline provocative white hose spikey black heels supercilious smile favoring me so she can write a check to get out of the parking structure beauty’s sucker I let her thinking just let me be able to describe her after she’s gone but I can only remember this peculiar sheen audi screeching as she stops by the window again never stopping talking on her phone Kirsten Maelstrom her name grinning still dripping charm a bit vague around the edges obviously in the middle of a long night have fun I say I will she answers