THE LAST TIME I SAW
CAREY
by
The
last time I saw Carey he was in a really good mood. The first time I saw him, I
just wanted to reach over the counter and shove my fingers into his mouth and grab
a hold of his tongue- I loved him so much. I think of my impulses as one of my
better qualities, but it sometimes gets me in trouble like it did the last time
I saw Carey.
I
was working at the Duane Reade and Carey came to my register to pay for his things,
and you know how it is. One thing led to another, and he was very chatty, and
he said he liked the color of my hair, and I liked the way he cracked open a
package of felt tip pens by the register, and scrawled some doodles on the
counter over and over with a pen. He drew a big silly face with a giant tongue
hanging out and little smiling lambs with big eyes and lots of wool and he
circled the cutest one and said that’s
for you and his eyes were kind of sparkly and my heart practically leapt
out of my mouth right there on the counter.
And I was laughing and staring at his teeth, and his doodles, and the
people behind him in line were getting really impatient and a few of them
started to huff very audibly, and Carey just turned around and gave the whole
lot of them a look that shut them up immediately. All of them
standing there with their rolls of toilet paper and shampoos and razor blades
and their mouths hanging open. Then he grabbed my hands and I swung my
body over the counter and knocked over a Star
Magazine display with my foot, and a bunch of Chap sticks with my other
foot, and the magazines slid across the floor to the crowd like they were on
roller skates, and the Chap sticks tumbled out and made a lot of noise as they
hit the counter and rolled around the feet of the people with their shampoo who
were looking down at the cover of Star
to see the picture of the pop singer in rehab. I tore off my Duane Reade coat
and kind of flung it on the floor very dramatically, and the next thing you
know, everyone was cheering us on as we left the store together hand-in-
hand. That was the last time I ever went
to the Duane Reade.
When we got outside Carey pulled a pair of scissors out of his
bag and cut off my ponytail right there on the sidewalk then put it in his
pocket. There, that’s better, he said. I guess I should have known then that he was
really something. I told him I felt like that actress, the one with the
short hair, and I reached up and felt the hole where my ponytail had been, and
pulled the front of my hair down around my eyes, and puffed out my lips and did
a couple of impressions of the actress, and that made Carey laugh. I had to
fight my impulse to punch him in the stomach, that’s what I wanted to do, I
loved him so much, so instead I asked him if I could have some of his hair too,
and he pulled out the scissors again and cut a bunch off the top of his head –
he still had a pretty good head of hair for a man his age-and gave it to me,
and I stuck my nose into the pile of hair before I shoved it into the two front
pockets of my jeans. I wasn’t certain,
but I was pretty sure we used the same shampoo. That was also the first time I
kissed Carey. We were really going at it, and the next thing you know he picked
me up and threw me over his shoulder and he was running down the street.
Pretty
quickly he was over at my apartment and you know how it is, one thing led to
another, and the next thing you know we were barefoot and standing on top of
the kitchen table putting in a light fixture together. After that, we stripped
down to our underwear and defrosted the freezer and cleaned the refrigerator
drawers. Then he cooked vegetarian chili while I soaked my feet in a pot of
soapy water that he set up under the kitchen table for me. Clean feet, clean heart, he said as he poured the warm water over
my feet. By then he was wearing nothing
but an apron and a chef’s hat, and creating what he called his magic spice
blend. I had to fight the urge to slap his ass it looked so inviting poking out
the back of his apron like that.
Love is when you look into someone’s eyes
and see everything in their head, he said as he turned to me with my
mother’s old potholders on his hands. He spooned the chili into small bowls and
he took off his apron and sat at the table with me and stuck his feet in the
water with mine. Then we kind of rubbed our feet together in the water and ate
a spoonful of chili at the same time and I had to try hard not to kick the pot
of water over with my foot and smash his head against the table I was having so
much fun.
This chili is shit, he said suddenly
after eating a few bites. That was the first time I saw his temper. Then he
stood up, took his feet out of the water, grabbed both of our bowls and threw
them out the window. It was very exciting but also very dangerous and we both
looked at each other when we heard the bowls hit the pavement and I peeked out
the window very stealthily and looked down at the broken bowls and the chili
splattered on the pavement.
We
were laughing so hard we could barely shut the window and we ran to the bedroom
and got into my bed and pulled the covers up over our heads. After five minutes
Carey said that it would be best if we went downstairs and cleaned up the
evidence. He borrowed some clothes and we made disguises and rehearsed how we’d
get rid of the evidence as we walked downstairs to the sidewalk and to the crime scene as Carey called it. He was very funny. We were pretending to be
out walking and Carey pretended to trip over the broken bowl and then he said
loudly so the whole street could hear what pigs
people were to leave their food on the sidewalk and not to mention broken bowls
and then he went on and on about how he could have cut himself as he
scooped up the bowl and threw it in the trash. And all these people were
looking at us and shaking their heads and saying that, yes, it was a shame that
people were so obnoxious and they thanked Carey for cleaning up the streets.
After
that, we went to the grocery store and I bought some hot dogs and Carey went to
the deli next door to buy some coffee and we met on the sidewalk in front of
the store to decide what to do next. Come
on Dahlia, he said and he grabbed me and that was first time I saw that he
was drinking coffee out of a Styrofoam cup, and I had to fight the urge to rip
it from his hands and hurl it at him – I was very protective like that- so I
decided to tell him that it was bad, was very bad to drink out of Styrofoam,
but he ignored me and looked like he really enjoyed that coffee so I didn’t
hurl it at him; I just let him drink it.
Come on
Dahlia he said again as he finished his coffee, and I didn’t mind that he
had Styrofoam coffee breath because when he said my name I wanted to reach over
and bite his cheek, and that was the third time I knew I loved him.
When we got back to my apartment we
took off our disguises and we were hungry so we cooked the hot dogs and ate
them and a bag of chips in bed and drank diet cokes and played dominos and
Crazy Eights until it was dark and he let me win over and over. Carey smiled at
me before he went to sleep and he said come
here kitty when my cat asked to sleep on his stomach. I rolled on my side
and wrapped my legs around his waist and watched him sleep and his eyelids
flutter and the bald spot on his head where he cut off his hair, and I was
thinking that I would like to be with him tomorrow and maybe forever despite
his temper and his penchant for coffee out of Styrofoam cups. And then I
couldn’t control myself and I squeezed him, I squeezed him so hard I wanted him
so much. That was the fourth time I
knew I loved him and the last time I saw Carey.
Author’s Bio: