maintain

i was driving down beverly. it was a breezy night, had been clear all day but now the rain was pushing in from the coast. it was probably about an hour from falling but you could feel the wind kicking up, see the line of steel gray clouds on the horizon ambling onto shore after their long trek across the pacific. a long trek through turbulent nights above choppy seas and days of laser-like sun reflected on waves.

my trek was shorter, i just wanted to get back and do what we do. it was a tuesday.

at the curve at rossmore there was a sudden slowdown, ahead i could see two cars perpendicular to the roadway. no one was outside, though, and i couldn't see any drivers or passengers within each vehicle. i sat patiently, the sports announcer reciting the night's basketball scores quietly over the radio.

after half an hour my patience ran thin. people were honking, some were getting out of their cars to peer forward, boosting themselves on one arm over the height of the car roofs stretching ahead. i smoked more cigarettes, switched stations, nothing but jazz (too calm for my impatience) and some honky tonk live from a ballroom back east.

the other drivers began walking from their cars so i figured i would too. there were all types: men like myself in rumpled suits--tired from a day's work, joyriding teenagers on god knows what, a mexican couple with a small child. we walked ahead towards the perpendicular cars, muttering under our breath, bracing against the chilly breeze now blowing from the west with greater strength.

as i got about four car lengths ahead of me i heard the popping. sounded like fireworks. i looked over to my right. there was a short stocky woman, her hair cut like a man's but slightly longer, maybe the tips of the strands touching the bottom of her ear lobe, but slicked back, like an old wino or a hermit of the racetrack. she was firing a pistol around wildly but with purpose. it looked like a toy. it made small cracks and little bright bursts of gold light. then i saw the mexican man fall in front of her and the panic set in.

i raced around to the back of a buick and crouched. there was an eerie silence save for the quick, staccato crack every few seconds. i wondered if she was heading off, towards the ocean, into the wind. then i saw a flash between two cars and i realized she was closer to me than ever.

i stumbled forward, towards the ivy covered wall and the sidewalk. it was my only hope, to make a run for it. as i rounded the large curved trunk of the car and peered around the spare tire, i saw her standing off a few feet away, cream colored pants, leather jacket, boots. i ran and in the corner of my eye, as i achieved a full sprint, i saw her turn.

you stood at home, doing the dishes, radio on. you love that old honky tonk music. it reminds you of when you were a girl, back home. you dry a plate, place it in the rack, take a sip from your gin and tonic on the kitchen table. the room bathes in yellow light from the chandelier and when you look out the kitchen window into our jungle of a backyard, you see yourself smiling in the reflection, giddy, buzzed on gin on a tuesday night.

you're waiting for me to come home.

i get in the door, i play it cool. we embrace. you finish the last glasses and i collapse on the couch. i pat the cushion next to me and you come skipping ahead, wiping your hands on a towel then dropping it to the floor. as we sit and i play with your hair we say nothing. we sit in the silence, bathed in golden light. the tv is off, the air is still. all is quiet.

i hear the soft rustle of raindrops beginning to hit leaves and i turn to you.