44. I can see clearly now
The rain had stopped. It was becoming a bright sunshiny day as
Crystal sang to herself kneeling on the kitchen floor scraping off
remnants of pet food that had dried and stuck to the linoleum near
her dog’s bowl. She knew Spotting would snap at her rapid hand
movements so she had been forced to lock him outside the house on a
leash.
Crystal had woken up thinking about her birthday, which was only a
few days away, and realized she had no reason to celebrate. As was
her custom when feeling worthless, she cleaned the house to put some
meaning back into her life. Cleaning helped clear the cobwebs from
her mind and swept away the dust that had accumulated there. Cleaning
gave her something to do when everything else around her was
perverted and out of place.
She had recently bumped into the guy who had been on her mind ever
since that hot summer day when they had met at the pool and he had
read her fridge. No one before had ever rocked her world quite as he
had, and she had been singing a new tune ever since. However,
hopelessness and an inability to take some kind of initiative had
slowly overcome her. The only concrete facts she had had were the
type of car he drove and that he parked it in the Grid. She had
periodically, overwhelmed by spasms of lust, detoured into the Grid
and patrolled the streets for a Ford Galaxy 500. While on the prowl,
she had sampled european-flavored fruit drinks with crushed ice and
energy powders, and had spent hours drinking mocha lattes at the
bohemian coffee shops dotting the Grid. It was at a refueling at a
mini-mart where she had finally ran into her man and nailed him down
with a promise that he would call. They had made plans to go hear
some poetry or shoot some pool. That was already a few days ago and
she was still waiting for his call.
“What am I going to do?” she sang out loud. “I’m so lucky. I’m a
star. But I’m so lonely, up here so far.”
Sad and confused, she took a pause from the pet food and momentarily
considered giving up on enjoying life entirely. Perhaps, it would be
better to spend the rest of my days as a mild-mannered country and
western singer, or better yet, some religious fanatic who passes out
pamphlets at bus stations. I think I need to be medicated. Maybe I
should join a monastery, rip out my tongue, scar my body and knead
bread for the rest of my life. If only I could talk to god and get
him to reduce my hormonic drives.
Finally finished with the mess on the pantry floor, she went to the
porcelain cabinet in the living room. “Hello,” she said feather
dusting the chinese figurines, “I have a secret to confess.” She
peered into a porcelain face. “I dreamed last night that I was a
princess and that’s why men don’t call and leave me wasting my life
away in an ivory tower.”
She found herself about to lob a figurine across the room and swung
her arm but did not release. Instead, she placed it back on the built-
in shelf unit, turned on the entertainment center and clicked to a
talk show. Though the panelists were spilling out their guts, she
ignored their babble and tidied up the living room, all the while
searching the depths of her inner soul. She found questions about her
personality that she was unable to answer.
Why do I sometimes say the most inane, trite things to people
I don’t even know? Do I do it for the sake of conversation? Why did I tell
that coffee guy at the Hurry Upper Bible Club in Fresno that I liked
getting deals on coffee J-Mart? Why do I get a thrill out of teasing
Preacher Dan’s sons? What good will it bring?
Why do I agree with almost everything even when I feel the opposite.
Whenever I talk to men, it always ends in disaster. I don’t know
where to focus my eyes. Should I concentrate on one body part, or
different body parts? Should I look into his eyes or stare at his nose?
While thinking, she straightened up the pile of magazines by the
sofa, picked up the soiled dished from the coffee table, carried them
into the kitchen, placed them into the dishwasher, and closed it.
Leaning against the counter she took a break to reflect on her social
inadequacies.
She was, indeed, a somewhat awkward girl inadvertently propelled to
stardom on the wings of christian fundamentalism. If it had not been
for her cousin getting sick, she would still be galloping around the
tables of the Club 400 wreathed in greenbacks and rednecks. What had
seemed at first to be her big break, had soon turned into a living
hell. On stage she learned how to act according to the code of the
establishment, whatever it might be. It was a schizophrenic world,
alternating between the false high moral standards of the church and
the animalistic reality of sexuality. She had made a name for herself
among the unswerving believers of high-powered christianity although
she was, in reality, inept, shy and sexually active.
In the looks department, she had everything going for her: perfect
skin, full lips, cute to shapely figure, depending on how she
displayed it, enough money to buy the latest fashions at the mall,
and enough fame to hide behind expensive designer sunglasses. But
when it came to men, she had no control.
Her lack of self-confidence, she attributed to her upbringing, to
coming from a broken home. Her father constantly nagged her about her
appearance and manners, and insisted that she move up to Chico to
receive a proper upbringing. Down the valley, her mother had a devil-
may-care attitude about raising her daughter and allowed her the
creative freedom to develop as she pleased. These opposing
characters, she concluded were the cause of her insecurity. It was
only after she had a hysterical pregnancy, which led to a shotgun
wedding, that she was able to escape her parents’ physical proximity
and start a life of her own.
Because her mother always questioned society’s standards, the social
etiquette that many took for granted was missing from her education.
The holding of a cocktail glass in the right or left hand to signify
approachability? What to do with a chewed olive pit or when someone
passed wind next to her? To imitate a famous personality, a friend,
her godmother, or just be herself? She was never quite sure if she
had overstayed her superficial welcome, or if sex on the first date
was considered out of fashion nowadays. Her paranoia dribbled over
when others unwittingly stared at her, for she was not sure if they
were looking at something on her face, trying to figure out what she
had just said, or were simply near-sighted.
She looked out the kitchen window hoping to see the Galaxy drive by
and concluded that hitchhiking would probably be quicker than waiting
for the love train to stop at her station.
She returned to the living room and absent-mindedly attacked the dog
hair on the couch with the fabric pill remover. “When am I going to
meet my guy?” “I am so lonely, so lonely I could die,” she sang, and
went to the utility closet to fetch the Hoover.
The sound of the vacuum cleaner sent her dog wild, barking at the
back door to be let in to attack and kill the vicious cleaning
apparatus. She heard Spotting throw himself at the back door and
decided to stop vacuuming until she had fed him and let a Doggy
Downer do its thing.
She made a tour of the house and noticed that the windows needed to
be cleaned. She gathered the necessary supplies and started in the
living room. She clicked onto to the psychic pet channel, squirted a
large pane with Windox but was distracted by the woman psychologically
analyzing a guest’s german shepherd.
They were chatting about the difficulty of getting the dog into the
studio and how upon seeing the pet psychic, the dog had become
silent. They chatted on about how the owner had lost all hope of
preventing her dog from attacking other living creatures. During
their conversation, the psychic had laid hands on the dog in order to
connect with its subconscious.
Suddenly, the psychic was silent for a moment and then informed the
owner that the animal had been neglected as a puppy. She said that
was why the dog attacked anything that vied for its owner’s
attention. But she did not stop there. She went into the dog’s past
life and explained that it had been a poodle that had been run over
by an ice cream truck. The owner shocked by this insight, informed
the psychic how her dog went absolutely mad when it heard children’s
nursery rhymes, how it was all she could do to stop the german
shepherd from destroying the garden.
The psychic recommended a dietary change and medication. Doggy
Downers would be just the right thing. She also recommended a master-
pet seminar she had developed to help owners with distressed pets,
which was coincidentally available on video for those who could not
come to Los Angeles personally.
Crystal had already received the video and found it full of insights
into improving the relationship between herself and Spotting. She had
learned how to communicate to her dog through eye blinks and lip-
licking, to give a proper doggy massage, and how to recognize when
the time had come to surgically liberate him from his sexual drives.
It also gave helpful tips in the training of dogs to poop in the
street instead on the sidewalk or next to trees.
Commercial break and Crystal broke from her television trance, to
find herself standing in a ray of sunlight, paper towel and Windox in
hand.
Lost in cleaning the window shine, she first noticed the postal
worker delivering the mail when she heard the rustle of the mailbox
in front and Spotting barking in back. She automatically moved to the
front door, went outside, shouted at her dog and collected her mail.
In today’s post, she noted the coincidence of receiving a postcard
from her mother with the usual design, a birthday card from her
godmother in fresno and a letter from her father. She attached the
notice from the Poodle Salon for Spotting’s quarterly de-worming to
the refrigerator, took the rest of the mail into the living room and
plopped down on the couch. She lowered the volume on the
entertainment center, opened her father’s letter and began to read.
Dear Crystal,
Hello, Daughter. First of all, I would like to wish you a happy
birthday. I have enclosed a check so you can buy something at the mall.
I have something very special to tell you. I do not know if it was
sparked by God or the way I see things nowadays, but I I’ve decided
to get married.
I have led a lonely life. My farm always came first. Now I realize
that I do not have anyone to share it with. The season has changed
and it is time to come out of the barn.
I am in love. I have been seeing a woman that I met over the
internet. Her name is Dee Griess a.k.a. Fraulein Debby. She lives in
Fresno. We both share the same problems in a way. We are religious,
conservative and lonely.
She has spent her life in Fresno, has raised two children. One of
them now lives in Sacramento. Maybe you know him. His name is Denver.
She said she is planning to get a divorce and is ready to move to
Chico. I hope you will like her.
Before reading the next page, she sat thinking again about her
relationship with her father. She had seen him once a month in her
childhood until she put an end to the visits by getting married. Her
escape legitimized, she divorced as quickly as possible and never
bothered to rekindle the relationship with her father in the years
that followed, though they did maintain contact through letters,
phonecalls and the odd visit. He thus remained distant yet constant.
His occasional contact left her wondering who he really was, though
she was aware of his farming success, having been a recipient on
occasion of large financial gifts.
One night, as I was staring out at the stars, I started thinking
about myself in the order of it all. I am just a piece of dust
floating in the wind. I know that I have been blessed, but there was
something missing. I was searching but was barking up the wrong tree,
as they say. It was not until I met Dee that I began to feel again.
Now, I see clearly. No more rainy days. I am a very happy man because
I know that love is about sharing and I want to be a part of your
life again. We will talk soon.
Love,
Your father
She put down the letter and looked out the cleaned window. She
wondered if she should give her father a call. The thought of him in
love gave her some solace that it could happen, to anyone, at any
time. She contemplated her next cleaning assignment while
absent-mindedly staring at a young man who had recently appeared and
was preparing to clean the pool. The sound of Spotting repeatedly
slamming himself against the back door put her priorities straight.
First, she had to feed and drug her dog before she could find and
love a man.
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