High Tide at Powell's

I don’t get out often. I’m always behind with work and stuff, and think that I’ll go out and do things ‘soon’, but I rarely do though. And so, it was a special occasion when she and I were clean and dressed nice, not in work clothes, and I was parking the car downtown amongst the trunks of the buildings, a lot of people still passing on the sidewalk even though it was dark and cold, after 8PM on a Thursday.

The car we were driving was not my car, it belonged to a customer, and I had just finished some major work on it and needed to take it out for a test spin, that was the occasion, or excuse for occasion, it was enough excuse for us though, and we took this opportunity to go to the big bookstore, to get out and browse, to go someplace together.

As is my custom, I got out first and quickly sauntered over to her door to let her out. I’m a gentleman like that, just ask anyone. My mother raised me right. My mother was big on Thoughtfulness. She was also big on Operant Conditioning, but that’s another story for another time. Point is, I hold doors open for people and make my bed every day.

I helped her up out of the tiny red car and locked the door behind her. My heart sped up briefly when her arm touched mine as I looked both ways and then crossed the street. I always felt great going out with her. I felt taller and stronger than I usually would. Mutual eye contact would tickle my stomach and there was often a strong flirty energy around us that was rarely acknowledged. As we got to the other side of the street, I put my hand on her back as she stepped up onto the curb. These sorts of things had been occurring more often lately, and began to feel natural. I felt really good. She squealed.

“Look at THAT!” she shouted, pointing to a large flat object leaning against the side of a dark warehouse. “It’s HUUUGE!”

It sure was. It was a cardboard box, and it WAS huge. We had been looking for one like this for a few days now, we had some bench seats to box up and ship, and a box able to accommodate them had proven to be elusive. As fortune would have it, we found it Here and Now, together. I thought this was a good sign. I think she did too.

“I can’t fucking believe this.” I said. “Look at that fucker! How are we going to get it back to the shop?”

“Can’t we fold it up?”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty big. AND, it’s the good cardboard, not that soft yellow Chinese shit. It may not fold up easily. Car’s pretty small. It DOES have a hatchback though…” I was willing to try. It seemed to make her so happy, too. Jesus. A cardboard box.

We spent the next fifteen minutes in a sort of urban-outside game of twister there on the sidewalk in front of the Auto Body shop, one of us folding the thing over, the other stepping over their arms, pinning corners down with black leather boots while the other one of us took new purchase on the cardboard and tried to fold again. Some folds were so stubborn as to require the effort of us both leaning in unison, pulling along an edge while knees were bent against the large flat surface. It took a while. There were several humorous comments offered from passer-bys. It was not easy. But the truth is, we made that box fit in the back of that Porsche. We were happy.

As I locked the car again and we made our way across the street for the third time, we bumped into each other again and leaned against each other while walking. I could not have been happier.

We discussed the box some more, what great luck it had been to find it. What we could do with it, how much it may have cost at the box store, IF we could even find one that big, we laughed, we walked, we made it to the bookstore.

We entered on the lower level and made our way through the aisles, cooking, food, vegetables and then farming. We were going to go upstairs to the geography/travel section, we were going to buy a map, but she made a noise when she saw a book on display with a bright yellow baby chick on the cover. “Peeps!” she almost yelled.

We examined the book together and she asked me again if we could have chickens. She used that word – WE – and again my heart did something unusual, something exciting. Of course, I assured her. I would, too. I wanted nothing more than to make her happy. I wanted to be involved in the process of making her smile. If it meant building a chicken coop at the shop, or raising goats, FINE. I like animals too. I do, this was not a stretch for me. We kept looking at books in this section, it seemed to be catering to the Urban Farmer, books about flower beds and rooftop gardens, and somehow at the conclusion of the next half hour we were sitting on the floor together, and discussing the possibility of living together. We had sort of joked about it before, but now it sounded real, like something that was definitely going to happen, and soon. I was in a daze. WE sat on the floor beside each other and she leaned into me again as I flipped though pages in the book she picked out, we talked about which projects we could feasibly do, and in what order we would do them. We talked about the future, a future together, a future in which we lived together and maybe more. This was real, and it was happening. Eventually we got up and went upstairs to the map section. We did not just buy the one map we came for, I spent about $60 on four maps, all places we said we wanted to go together. This was the life I would have created for myself, and these were the very first actions pushing it along and into becoming.

I would walk away from her just to turn around and walk back towards her, in order to try to imagine I was seeing her for the first time again, and it was always the same; my stomach fluttered. I felt lucky and happy. She was indeed the most beautiful person – She was. I was happy. I stood near her again to test, and she leaned in. If I touched her she did not pull away. This was becoming.

We paid for our maps as well as a couple of books about raising chickens and building greenhouses and got out of the store, headed back to the car. I knew she was happy too because she suggested we go eat something, she was hungry. WE laughed about this and then discussed options, driving around with our cardboard box blocking out any possibility of seeing out the rear window. That was fine, I was really not paying attention behind me at this time anyway. WE decided on a place to go eat, a cozy place, a nice place, and we stayed there longer than we usually go places together, I know we looked good together, and I could see people admiring us from other tables in the room.

We were both excited about this looming future and our maps and our new box. We were going to get paid the next day for the repair job (which was successful, by the way) and things were looking better than they usually did, even. I did not want to go, but it was getting late, nearing midnight, and we had to work the next day.

I brought her back to her car and walked her to the door of it, held it open for her as she got in, gave her a hug, closed the door and she actually sat there in her seat and looked at me through the closed window for a few seconds before starting the engine. That was unusual. Her gaze does not often linger. She had not proven to be a sentimental person. Before she pulled away, she put her window down and said to me

“That was pretty great, finding that box like that. Don’t you think?” and before I could say anything she put it in gear and drove away, me standing there watching her red taillights disappear as she drove down the hill.