Lindy was stirring in her bed….the sun had finally penetrated her stupor and she looked around to see if there was a warm body to snuggle against. But her bed was strangely cool and empty. Her mouth felt like mud, her head was dense as a fog and she was alone. All alone. She pulled herself up on the edge of the bed and peeked outside to the brightly lit day. It seared through her brain like a white-hot knife. The back of her eyes felt like they were exploding and she adjusted the curtain to keep out the sunshine until her brain could process the sensation of light. The camper smelled like stale beer, stale sex and somewhere there was the distinct rancid smells of old grease…going bad. Once the smells had meandered and finally registered in her senses it evoked a queasiness that was as familiar to her as her guitar. This was Lindy’s regular morning, but the fact that there was not a warm compliant body sleeping next to her was a little disheartening. She shook her unruly head, raked back her hair and headed toward the tiny bathroom to douse her self under a shower. No sooner than the hot luscious water began pelting down on her body and she was almost able to feel human again…. when the shower began that quick descent toward cooling. “Fuck!” she grumbled as she stumbled out from the icy spray and grabbed a towel. She stood there shivering slightly and toweling herself off and quickly tried to dress before she got too chilled. Amazingly she found a clean pair of 501’s and donned them on and completed the outfit with a sleeveless black Tee that fit her close and hugged her frame. A quick flick of her hands through her crazy cropped hair and she was almost good to go. She grabbed a toothbrush and began what was probably the only consistent ritual in her life. Lindy had to brush her teeth four times a day. It was the only thing that she was stringent about. She didn’t know where it came from. But it was something that was comforting to her no matter where she was or who she was with or what she was into. If she had access to her toothbrush that was good, but if she didn’t….she wasn’t a bit bash about ducking into someone’s bathroom, picking up the toothpaste, using her fingers and brushing her teeth. If toothpaste wasn’t available, there was always table salt around. A powerful cleanser she had found when beating about on the streets for many years as a runaway. But her preference was her own brush and toothpaste, but in her lifestyle, a finger and a glob of toothpaste would do the trick if she wasn’t near her own stuff. No one had ever stayed around long enough to notice this particular habit of hers. The women in her life were wisps and flashes of ethereal beings, temporarily placed in her presence for her own pleasure and to pleasure; but none of them were substantial…. sustainable…. real relationships. Lindy looked in the mirror and smiled and pointed at the image that smiled it’s frothy smile back at her……"you are the only one that knows about this….." she winked at her reflection in the secret that they shared about her passion for clean teeth. As soon as she was finished her ritual of the mouth, the familiar pangs of hunger began to gnaw her gaunt frame. It was feeding time again. She opened the compact fridge in the small kitchenette and looked at her stock of beer which seemed to be a little low because there was shelf space that had been taken up by a container from the Lodge. It apparently was the cause of the smell that she had caught whiff of earlier. She took the offensive carton out and dumped it into a small trash can. Then she took a couple of warm long neck beers from the case on the kitchen table and carefully put them in the space left vacant by the container. Once she was sure that every square inch of the refrigerator was filled with beer bottles she stood back to survey her work. "Now that….is a stocked fridge!" she smiled as she closed the door and heard the distinct clink of bottles rustling inside. She slipped on a pair of roughshod Timberlands and headed out the door. Shades, of course, completed the look and she jumped into her Jeep and headed up Lodge. She knew she could have just walked up, but she also knew that she looked good in the Jeep. It was definitely a chick magnet! And it was well cared for despite the miles that were piled on it year after year riding the road from gig to gig. Lindy had three priorities in her life…..her teeth…..her guitars…..her Jeep. Clothes, women and tangible possessions were disposable and dispensable in her life; necessary but unnecessary as well. She didn’t adore herself with excess and didn’t crave the latest rage. Creature comforts to her were a toothbrush, fresh guitar strings and full tank of gas. It was all about priorities and she had uncomplicated her life to pick up as needed and go with the wind. Other than her audio gear, everything she owned could be put in one well- worn duffel bag. It was an effortless way to live and she had perfected the art of living it. The only piece of jewelry that she had in her possession was a small gold locket that was tucked safely into her twelve-string guitar case. It contained a small and faded, postage-stamp picture of a woman who smiled back knowingly at her…..but Lindy had never really seen her or had any shaped memories of her. The nuns had told her that it was her mother. They had told her that the locket was in the wicker basket that Lindy had been found in. Every now and then….in the still of the night….when she was alone… she would pull out the locket and look at the only tangible piece of her past and press it against her lips... trying to connect in someway to the woman that smiled so calmly and beautifully to her. No matter how deep or dark the pain that Lindy was in at the moment….those soft dark eyes….and that beautiful smile would calm her in way that no lover’s caress had yet touched. But those moments were rare…when the pain of detachment became too much to bear. For now…there were women…..beautiful women….and they were everywhere…and they waved and smiled at her as she drove the short distance to Louise’s home cooking. First things first….first eat…then feast! Click On The River To Continue To Chapter 58 Labinky Park 2008 Labinky Park Enterprises 2008 |
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Chapter 57
