"Isn't she beautiful?" ...RJ asked me, in a hushed voice quivering with awe.
I like cats, but this thing had a face that begged my fist to punch it.
It was a fat cat, with a fat pushed-in face, it was the ugliest cat I'd ever seen, "purebred with papers", or so RJ claimed. RJ used to live with my Dad back in the 20th century. She was, and still is, an alcoholic, compounding her other problem - some form of undiagnosed retardation. RJ is fat too. And she's missing a couple of teeth, giving her the appearance of a halloween witch-mask.
All of our prior confrontations seemed to have been long forgotten. When she saw me she hustled right over and layed a big wet kiss on me. She reeked of wine and cigarettes. The kiss dumbfounded me, the stench made me reflexively wave my hands in the air in front of my face, like shooing away some errant flatulance.
My Dad's old property in Cali is about 12 hours from where I live. It's a boring drive until you hit the mountains. Then the winding curves and steep switchbacks get scary. I take it as cautiously as possible, pissing off most everyone behind me. I really can't help it, the top speed of my truck is 55 MPH.
Every now and then I drive out to my Dad's old property to check up on the woman he left behind there around '92-'93. I was never told the complete truth about why their relationship fell apart. My Dad doesn't really have the guts to tell the complete truth about anything.
Whatever... he didn't have it in him to kick RJ out. So he left. She stayed. The house went to ruin, and the property is slowly being reclaimed by the manzanita that surrounds it. Much of the conifers have died out from beetle infestation. There is some new developement, but from the rim of the small valley where my Dad's house sits, you'd never know there were millions of dollars worth of homes hidden down there somewhere.
I'm not crazy about the community. The stereotype that Californians are laidback does not apply. I lived here for a short period a long time ago and it sucked. I was able to grow a six foot marijuana plant though.
RJ suffers. I can see it. I listen to the crazy stories about the illegals she befriends. She'll pause in the middle of conversing and launch into some kind of testimony about how swell it is getting "saved". An hour into my visit and she becomes withdrawn, she wanders into the kitchen and chainsmokes. Her expression has changed, but I can't quite tell what her mood is. The room suddenly seems colder and darker. The smell of the house sickens me.
I unceremoniously take my leave of her. I let her hug and kiss me. She tells me how good I look and how nice it was of me to come see her. The sun is setting and the valley is quiet. I get in my truck and begin to coast down the awkward driveway- giant dominoes layed end to end against a strange hill. I wave goodbye out the window without looking around. At the bottom of the hill I glance up.
RJ, a silhouette against the fading twilight.
I like cats, but this thing had a face that begged my fist to punch it.
It was a fat cat, with a fat pushed-in face, it was the ugliest cat I'd ever seen, "purebred with papers", or so RJ claimed. RJ used to live with my Dad back in the 20th century. She was, and still is, an alcoholic, compounding her other problem - some form of undiagnosed retardation. RJ is fat too. And she's missing a couple of teeth, giving her the appearance of a halloween witch-mask.
All of our prior confrontations seemed to have been long forgotten. When she saw me she hustled right over and layed a big wet kiss on me. She reeked of wine and cigarettes. The kiss dumbfounded me, the stench made me reflexively wave my hands in the air in front of my face, like shooing away some errant flatulance.
My Dad's old property in Cali is about 12 hours from where I live. It's a boring drive until you hit the mountains. Then the winding curves and steep switchbacks get scary. I take it as cautiously as possible, pissing off most everyone behind me. I really can't help it, the top speed of my truck is 55 MPH.
Every now and then I drive out to my Dad's old property to check up on the woman he left behind there around '92-'93. I was never told the complete truth about why their relationship fell apart. My Dad doesn't really have the guts to tell the complete truth about anything.
Whatever... he didn't have it in him to kick RJ out. So he left. She stayed. The house went to ruin, and the property is slowly being reclaimed by the manzanita that surrounds it. Much of the conifers have died out from beetle infestation. There is some new developement, but from the rim of the small valley where my Dad's house sits, you'd never know there were millions of dollars worth of homes hidden down there somewhere.
I'm not crazy about the community. The stereotype that Californians are laidback does not apply. I lived here for a short period a long time ago and it sucked. I was able to grow a six foot marijuana plant though.
RJ suffers. I can see it. I listen to the crazy stories about the illegals she befriends. She'll pause in the middle of conversing and launch into some kind of testimony about how swell it is getting "saved". An hour into my visit and she becomes withdrawn, she wanders into the kitchen and chainsmokes. Her expression has changed, but I can't quite tell what her mood is. The room suddenly seems colder and darker. The smell of the house sickens me.
I unceremoniously take my leave of her. I let her hug and kiss me. She tells me how good I look and how nice it was of me to come see her. The sun is setting and the valley is quiet. I get in my truck and begin to coast down the awkward driveway- giant dominoes layed end to end against a strange hill. I wave goodbye out the window without looking around. At the bottom of the hill I glance up.
RJ, a silhouette against the fading twilight.
I'm nearly in tears. In fact, I am now.
No shit.
And no offense-- I love your writing-- but some of this stuff should come with a warning.