Archives:
January 7-January 13, 2007

January 7, 2007

“It's funny how fast the holidays go by, isn't it?” Grandma asks, drawing cards from the large stack between us. “Seems like it was just days ago I was talking to your mother, making plans for her to come in and everything. Then all of a sudden you're back in town, then she's back, and Ray's back. And then everybody's gone again.”

“I'm still here, Grandma.”

“I know,” she says, discarding. “But that's just the point, isn't it? How long do you have here? Another week?”

“To the day. One week and I'm driving back to Taylor .”

“It just goes by so fast.” She shakes her head “It's nice of you to come play cards while you are here.”

It is kind of sad how time flies—especially here at home, where I feel like nothing's permanent any more. I gave Grandma the cards we're playing with as a gift for Christmas. They're still new, glossy and slippery now. I imagine they're going to be a lot more worn the next time I see her, after playing with her friends. Give it a year, and they'll be in the same shape her old deck was in—still functional, but just your everyday cards.

I think of Matt and Julie. At my insistence, he didn't go after her last night. She went back to her friends, then left within the hour. I think about them and their history. Even if he went after her that night, or if they met up sometime before they leave to go back to school, what would it mean? A week together? A week as enemies? They'll part ways again, not to see each other until Spring Break, or the summer, or maybe even longer.

I think of college. I think about how my life is at Taylor now, and more and more, these trips back home are just breaks from that life, and not the other way around. I suppose that could change in three years or so, when I'm out of school, and I start the next part of my life. Maybe I'll come back to Shermantown, and resume all of this. Or maybe Matt will, or Julie will.

I make my own discard, as our game goes on, if just for this afternoon.

January 8, 2007

“Hey Preston ,” Teri says, answering the phone.

“Hey, how's it going?” I ask, setting down in the living room, phone pinned between my head and shoulder setting down my bowl of cereal on the coffee table, putting the TV on mute. Teri and I have talked almost every day since the new year. I ended up hanging out with Matt until late last night, and didn't get to call her. Getting up this morning, I found that it was the first thing I wanted to do.

“It's glorious,” she says with a yawn. “The weekend's over. Christmas break is over. The house is all mine until three.”

I laugh. “Excellent. What are you doing with this newfound freedom?”

“Are you kidding? It's only 11. I'm still in bed.”

“Ah, I'm sorry—I didn't mean to wake you up. I can call back—”

“No,” Teri cuts me off. “I mean, I like hearing your voice first thing in the morning.”

“Well good. Because I couldn't wait to call.”

“Is that right?”

“Mmm hmm,” I manage, chewing on my cereal. I wipe my mouth. “So anything exciting lined up for today?”

“I don't know about exciting.” There's some rustling from her end, and I picture her rolling over in bed. “I was thinking about driving down to this playground my grandparents used to take me too, and snapping some artsy photos—maybe combine them into something bigger.”

“That sounds cool.”

“It's my underappreciated inner-artist—I have to let her play every once in a while—especially when I've got this downtime.”

“Right on. Just like I'm feeding my underappreciated inner-couch potato.”

She sighs. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

January 9, 2007

““So, I'm telling this guy that I wasn't trying to hit on his girl—I was just talking to her because she was my waitress,” Joey says, dealing out the cards for a hand of poker. “But he's just not leaving me alone. Hey, guys—blinds in.”

“My bad,” Chang says, putting in his five dollar chip to Matt's big blind of ten.

“So this pencil neck's not backing down, and I tell him I don't want any problems—that I just want to get back to my lane, ‘cause it's my turn to bowl. And then, the guys decides to push me.” He pauses, dropping in two five dollar chips. Chang sees the bet, and Joey lays down the flop.

“So did you let him have it?” Matt asks, smiling, leaning back in his chair.

“Well at that point I just stood right up against him—let him see that if he wanted to pursue this thing, I was going to pulverize him.” Joey, turns over the edge of his cards, peeking back down at them. “You kidding me with that raise, Presto?”

I stayed in with a pair of fours before the flop. When a third one appeared on the table, I got a really good feeling about this hand. “I don't know, what do you think, Joey?”

He watches me for a minute, then tosses his cards into the burn pile. “I'm gonna trust you.” It's just Matt and I still in the hand and Joey lays down the next card. “Like I said, I'm kind of staring this guy down. And out of no where, the manager comes out, and asks what the problem is. And of course, I'm the bigger guy, and nothing's going on right that minute, so it looks like I'm being a bully. And this guy tells him that I was bothering the waitress, and now I was picking a fight with him.”

“Dick,” I respond, raising again.

“You're telling me,” Joey goes on, as Matt sees me. “The manager wouldn't even hear me out. Kicks me out, says I'm not welcome there anymore. And it's one of those deals where nothing I was going to say would have changed his mind.” Matt puts in ten, and this time I only see him. “All right boys, time to show ‘em.”

“ Preston , old buddy, I'm afraid you're looking at pocket rockets.” He lays down a pair of aces, to give him two pair with the two fives on the board.

“Not bad. Not good enough, but not bad,” I say, laying down my cards, to Matt's groan.

January 10, 2007

I've been thinking about what Teri said about running—how it was just a simple thing she could do to get in a little better shape. I never really went running for the sake of running in my younger days—I ran when I was playing a game, or for a race, or for whatever reasons kids do. Last year, I ran a few times early on in the year with people from my floor. But then I fell into a more sedentary lifestyle with Dave, and my only real exercise was the occasional basketball game with him and Mike.

I like the idea of running now, not just for the physical aspects of it, but for the idea of spending that time on my own, taking the time to think and remember.

I start to chart out a course in my mind. A map search online shows that my old elementary school is only about a mile and a half away. I figure that would be a good way to start—run there, maybe start the run back. There's a coffee shop near there, so I figure I could stop there. I'm sure I'll be thirsty, though I wonder, in this weather, if I'll want something hot or cold at that point. Either way, I ‘m sure I can find something to buy there.

So I tie my sneakers on tight, stretch out, and head outside in my wind pants and hoodie. I'm shivering to start, but figure I can warm up once I'm in motion.

The cold air stings my throat as I suck it in, and I'm sucking pretty hard after just a couple minutes. I round a corner and find the sidewalk hasn't been cleared off there. The road's not looking much better, covered in sludge and with a long string of cars coming my way. I opt to stay off to the side, charging through the ankle deep snow.

My feet are freezing by the time I'm through it, and about halfway to my old middle school. I try to shift my mind back in time—thinking about when I would walk to school sometimes with one my folks, or with Matt.

I can't stick with the memories long, as I've got to focus on here and now. Here and now, I'm completely out of breath by time I get to the café, and I stop outside of it, bending over and heaving in and out.

I didn't think this running thing would be so hard.

My face is freezing, while I can feel the hoodie, and the t-shirt underneath clinging to me with sweat. I head inside to take a look at my drink options.

January 11, 2007

“Damn, this is good,” Matt says, wiping his mouth off after a bite from his turkey and bacon sandwich. “I don't know why we didn't come here more often when we used to live here.”

We're sitting in the Saunders Deli, a popular little place to grab lunch. It's more popular among an older demographic, and this afternoon, we're by far the youngest people sitting here. On top of that, we're among the few people here not dressed up at all, each of us a little disheveled, having gotten up less than an hour before.

“I think the burger joints were more our speed then,” I say, taking a bite from my chicken salad sandwich on a sun dried tomato bagel. I have to agree with him that we should have come here earlier.

“What do you think of that suit there?” Matt asks, looking behind me.

I turn. “The blue or the green?”

“The green.”

I look again and shrug. “It's different.”

Matt nods. “I'm thinking about getting a suit like that.”

“What do you need a suit for?”

“Who doesn't need a suit? There's always some random event you've got to go to where you're supposed to dress up or something.”

“Yeah, but you wear a shirt and tie.”

“We're getting older, though,” Matt says, looking past me again. “I'm thinking it might be time to step it up a notch. Besides—I might be looking for an internship this summer. And then give us another couple years and it's job interview time.” He picks up a stray piece of bacon and pops it into his mouth. “We ain't kids anymore.”

I shake my head, looking down at my sandwich. “Geez dude, this is depressing.”

“Time marches on, Presto. Time marches on.”

January 12, 2007

“I gotta say, I didn't think it would be so hard to get into running,” I say, phone pinned between my shoulder and ear, looking through the kitchen cupboards, trying to find something for an afternoon snack. “But I guess I'm more out of shape than I thought.”

“Well you're not gonna get very far your first time out,” Teri says. “I mean that first day I got out there again, I only went for like ten minutes. And even now I'm only going for about twenty.”

“Well I think I was running for a while—but I only covered about a mile.”

“Eh, stick with it. You'll be surprised how fast you can gain ground. And besides that, it's harder to get going in weather like this, so I wouldn't get discouraged.”

“Yeah, I suppose you're right.”

“Of course it's also possible that I'm just so much better of an athlete than you, that my advice won't really apply.”

“Cute.”

“So are you.”

I clear my throat, settling on a bag of barbecue chips. “So how did your photo project turn out.”

“Well, taking pictures went pretty well. But I'm still trying to figure out how I want to put them together, and now I'm running out of time.”

“Yeah, it's a real pity that we'll be back in Taylor in just a couple days.”

“You know that's not what I meant.”

“So you're looking forward to seeing me?”

“What kind of question is that?”

I go on with a mouth half full of chips. “It's just a question.”

“Well I can't wait.”

January 13, 2006

“Thanks for waiting here with me,” Matt says, as he slings the last of his bags over his shoulder, preparing to get on the train back to New York .

I wave a hand. “Don't mention it. Wish I could keep you company on the ride back too.”

“Right, because that seven hours is going to be a lot of fun.”

I shrug. It's strange saying goodbye to Matt. He's my best friend, and my constant companion when we're both home like this. The last four weeks have been just like old times, as if we never missed a day. He's just that kind of friend who you can be bored with, and still have a good time—watching TV all day, eating junk food, philosophizing and reminiscing aimlessly.

Beyond all that, I think back to New Years. It's not like we had much to do, but the fact remains that Matt went along for six hour drive, in large part just to be my wing man, and keep me company along the way.

“So hey, I was thinking, maybe you should come to the City for your spring break,” he says.

“That could be cool.”

“And hell, bring Teri along. Maybe I'll have a lady friend by then too, and we can all hang out.”

I nod. “Sounds good. Let's plan on it.”

“All right. Well old buddy, time for me to hit the tracks.”

We shake hands. “See you in a few months.”