Saturday, October 29, 2011
We sat in silence; me waiting for Keck, Eck and Cleal - she, clearing a spot on her "shop project" coffee table and strolling back and forth from living room to kitchen. When the pot whistled, she prepared the brew as I looked at my wrist wishing I had a watch to watch. Finally, she poured the tea and leaned back in her velour easy chair, worn slick on the arms and back, and then she raised her cup holding it high waiting for me to do the same, which I did. Her face was expressionless as she pulled her bare feet up under her leaving her pink fuzzy slippers on the floor in front of her chair.
“Blow,” she said. “It’s hot.”
I did, and we both took a sip and placed our cups in their saucers. She cleared her throat, lit a cigarette cupping her hands around the match out of habit. After she raised her head skyward and blew a cloud of smoke to the ceiling, she looked me right in the eyes and asked; “What have you heard about me?”
